#they are still sitting in the corridor around a long table
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#someone please kill me#this was one of the most awkward moments of my life#my colleagues held a Christmas lunch#which I skipped#because this year doesn't worth to celebrate#and I went into the city to have a lunch break#a looong lunch break#but after 1 and a half hour later...#they are still sitting in the corridor around a long table#and everyone saw as I came back#I awkwardly smiled at them when they greeted me#then slipped past them to hide in my office#but the party is right in front of my office#aaaagh#no one is working#I'm dying#hate this fucking idea#anyother year I'd have been the Christmas fairy cooking and baking for them#fuck my life
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Origin [Logan Howlett]
Summary: Two people, one shared past, and decades apart.
Warnings: fem!reader, angst, fluff, longing, things get bad before they get better! WC: 14k - MASTERLIST
A/N: there are plot points that are inspired by Logan's origin story (thank u marvelwiki), but they are so non-canon compliant its funny so don't call me out tyyy đ
----
Before he was known as Logan, or as Wolverine, he was James.Â
Your James.Â
â
Itâs quiet in the Howlett estate, the kind of stillness that only comes when everyone has long retired for the night. But while the rest of the mansion sleeps, you remain wide awake. Dressed in your nightgown and nestled under the blankets, you glance at the small, brass pocketwatch resting on your bedside table. The hands read 10:22 PM. Any minute now, you think to yourself.Â
Then, like clockwork, you hear itâa faint knock on your door. Three slow, deliberate taps, followed by two quick ones. The secret signal never fails to make you smile. You spring from the bed, feet softly padding across the floor as you hurry to the door. You open it as quietly as possible, your grin widening the moment you see whoâs waiting on the other side.
James.
He stands there, dark tousled hair and that familiar mischievous smile that always manages to light up the dim hallway. Youâve known him your entire life, growing up together under the roof of the Howlett estate. Your parents, both loyal servants to the Howlett family, were fortunate enough to be granted permission raise you alongside their son.
From the moment you could walk, you and James were inseparable, sharing countless adventures in the woods, running across the estateâs gardens, and whispering secrets to one another under moonlit skies.
"About time," you whisper, teasing him with a playful glint in your eyes. "You really know how to keep a lady waiting, donât you?"
A soft snort escapes his lips as he grabs your hand, pulling you gently into the hallway. "My deepest apologies, Mâlady," he replies with mock formality, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "I had to... attend to urgent business in the necessary."
You snicker, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Ah, I see. Was it a fulfilling experience, sir Howlett?"
He glances over his shoulder, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, though you catch the small smirk tugging at his lips. He doesnât respond, but his silence confirms everything. It was.
The rest of the trip is quiet, the two of you moving stealthily through the darkened corridors, careful not to disturb anyone or draw unwanted attention. After all, your mother would certainly disapprove of such late-night rendezvous. It is improper, she would say.
But what choice did you have? The day offered no time for moments like this. You were busy training to take over as the next chief maid, learning the endless routines of the household, while James spent his time with his family or other highborn friends. It was only after hours, when the mansion finally settled, that the two of you could steal away for these secret meetings.
Finally, you reach the gardens. The crisp night air greets you as you slip away from any prying eyes. Thereâs a familiar sense of peace here, among the fragrant flowers and the towering trees that shield you from the world. James leads you to your usual spot, a stone bench tucked beneath the shadow of the hedges. Wordlessly, he slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before taking a dramatic bow.
"To keep you warm, Mâlady," he says softly.
"Hush, James," you laugh, finding his antics endearing.Â
Youâre grateful, especially as the cool night air nips at your exposed skin. The nightgown, while comfortable, offers little protection against the chill. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself, then pat the empty spot next to you, gesturing to him to sit, to which he does.
âHow was your day?" you prompt.
James sighs, leaning back on the bench, his hand casually resting behind you as he stares up at the sky. "Same old, same old," he starts, a familiar twinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You know how it is. Dinners with my parents, listeninâ to old men talk about businesses I'll never care about, trying not to fall asleep while they drone on about investments or land expansions. Itâs all so posh."
You stifle a giggle, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Posh? You sound like you're living the dream."
He rolls his eyes dramatically. "If by 'dream,' you mean sitting there pretending to care while wonderinâ how quickly I can escape to see you, then yeah, it's an absolute dream," he quips sarcastically.
Sniggering, you bring your hand up to your forehead, acting distressed. "Oh, how tragic. The poor Lord James Howlett, trapped in a world of lavish dinners and fancy wine. Whatever will you do?"
"Mock me all you want, but itâs unbearable," he groans, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I hate it. All the stuffy clothes, the fake smiles, the way everyone acts like they're better than everyone else." He pauses for a moment, then glances sideways at you. "You're the only real thing here."
The sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter, and youâre suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. Looking away, you try to play it off. "Well, if thatâs the case, I guess I should charge you for my company," you tease coyly.
He lets out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. "I'll pay whatever price you want.â
There's a pause as you both sit in comfortable silence. Just then, a soft breeze sweeps through the garden, catching the edges of your nightgown and fanning it up slightly. Before you can even react, he swiftly moves his jacket from your shoulders to your lap, covering your legs. His hand lingers, making sure you're covered before he hastily wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close against him.
The warmth from his body contrasts with the cool air, and you can't help but laugh softly at his sudden behaviour. "Wow, you really are a gentleman, James."
He tenses slightly, his grip on your shoulder loosening as he looks away, clearly flustered. "IâI just didnât want you to get cold," he mumbles, his usual confidence faltering.
You smile at how shy he suddenly seems, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thank you. Itâs sweet."
For a brief second, he says nothing, but you can feel the way his heartbeat picks up just a little. Then, almost too quietly, he mutters, "Iâd do anythinâ for you."
Your breath catches in your throat, and you tilt your head to look up at him. But you canât respond, because he clears his throat, looking down at you with a small, sheepish smile. "What about you? Any exciting adventures in the life of a future chief maid?"
Grinning, you recognize his attempt to shift the conversation, and decide to let it go for now. "Oh, you know, the usual. A thrilling day of dusting, folding linens, and trying not to spill tea on your motherâs favourite rug."
He chuckles, pulling you a little closer. "Sounds way more exciting than my day."
You hum in acknowledgement, letting the moment linger. Neither of you speak for a bit, just relishing being in each otherâs presence.Â
"So, do tell," you say after a while, breaking the silence, "if you could get away from all the fancy dinners and boring conversations, what would you do?"
He smiles slightly, his gaze still fixed on the star-filled sky. "Iâd leave. Go far away from here, maybe somewhere quiet. Live in the countryside, where no one cares about wealth or titles." His eyes drop to meet yours. "Maybe youâd come with me."
You laugh gently. "And who would take care of your family if we both ran off?"
Shrugging, his expression grows more serious. "They donât need me. They need someone whoâll do what they wantâsomeone to follow in their footsteps. Thatâs never been me."
Thereâs a weight in his words, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. Youâre about to respond, to tell him you understand more than he realizes, whenâ
BANG.
Your body stiffens instantly, heart beginning to pound in your chest as you straighten up, eyes wide.
"What the hell was that?" James asks sharply. He turns to you, his face mirroring the confusion and unease you're feeling.
Shaking your head, you swallow the lump thatâs forming in your throat. "It sounded like a gunshot."
The two of you stare at each other for a beat, then, right when youâre going to speak again, you hear itâhis motherâs scream. Itâs high-pitched, panicked, and it sends a jolt of fear through you both.
"Help!" she shrieks from inside the mansion. "James, help!"
Without a word, you bolt to your feet, the peaceful night forgotten as you rush back inside. Your heart is racing as your bare feet fly across the grass, nightgown fluttering behind you. James is ahead of you, moving fast, his expression shifting from confusion to pure fear.
As you reach the back entrance, your mind races with possibilities, none of them good. You burst through the door into the hallway, your breathing laboured from the sudden sprint. Something is terribly wrong.
"Mother!" He calls, his voice sharp with panic as he leads the way toward the main staircase. You follow close behind, anxiety coiling tight in your chest.
Once you get to the bottom of the stairs, you hear footstepsâheavy, hurriedâand then you see her. Mrs. Howlett, wide-eyed and pale, comes hurrying down from the upper floor, clutching the banister for support. Her hands are trembling.
"James!" she cries. "Your fatherâheâs been shot!"
The boy beside you freezes, face going white. "What?" he breathes, disbelief etched into every syllable.
"Heâhe was in his study, and IâI heard the gunfire. IâI donât know what happened. I donât know whoâ" Her voice breaks, and tears stream down her face as she struggles to speak. "We need to get help!"
He doesnât waste another second, taking off up the stairs, his long strides making quick work of the distance. You trail after him. How could this happen? Who couldâve done this?
When you reach the second floor, you see the study door slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hallway. James' hand wavers over the doorknob for only a moment before pushing the it open wide.
Inside, the scene is worse than you imagined.
There, slumped over his desk, is Mr. Howlett. His once pristine office now looks chaoticâpapers scattered, a window broken, and blood, so much blood. A crimson stain is spreading across his shirt.
"Father," James chokes out, rushing to his side, his hands shaking as he reaches for him.
You stand paralyzed for a moment, the sight rendering you speechless, but then the adrenaline kicks in, and you move further into the room. Your mind is screaming at you to do something, anything, but all you can do is watch as James desperately tries to wake his father, calling his name again and again.
Trying to make sense of the horrific scene, your attention is dragged away by the sound of footsteps shuffling behind you. Thomas Logan, the groundskeeper, stumbles in, his movements clumsy, his face twisted with drunkenness. His bloodshot eyes are manic, and in his trembling hand, heâs clutching a gunâthe same one that must have been used to end Mr. Howlettâs life.
"Thomas!" Mrs. Howlett yelps. "What are you doing?"
James turns sharply, still kneeling beside his fatherâs body, his expression hardening immediately. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Thomas lets out a low, slurred laugh, staggering further into the room. His eyes flick between you, James, and Mrs. Howlett, but his focus remains hazy. "Iâve had enough of this, enough of all of it," he mutters, waving the gun in the air. "Your precious mother thought she could keep the truth from you. But itâs time you knew the truth, boy."
"What truth?" The younger man demands harshly.
Swaying on his feet, he points the gun directly at James, his finger twitching dangerously on the trigger. "Iâm not just the groundskeeper, you idiot," he snarls venomously, "Iâm your damn father."
Itâs as if the room has been put on pause. You feel the air leave your lungs, your mind scrambling to make sense of what you just heard. Glancing at your friend, you see the disbelief wash over his features, his eyes widening with shock, denial.
"No," he whispers, shaking his head, backing away slightly. "You're lying. Youâre drunk."
But the older man just laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. "You think John Howlett was your father? That man never wanted you! He raised you because he had to, not because you were his. Youâre mine, boy. My flesh and blood,â he jerks his head in the direction of Mrs. Howlett. âGo ahead, ask your mama."
You hear Mrs. Howlett begin to blubber in the background at the accusation, but your attention is solely on the boy in front of you.
Betrayal is written all over his face.
His breath quickens, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. You want to reach out to him, concern puling you forward, but then he lets out a screamâa sound so full of pain that you stop in your tracks.
"James!" you cry, but he doesnât seem to hear you. His eyes squeeze shut, and his body convulses, as though something inside him is tearing him apart from the inside out.
The sickening sound of skin breaking fills your ears, and bone claws shoot out from his knuckles. They gleam in the dim light of the room, sharp and lethal. The sight of them is nauseating, but youâre unable to look away as James blinks, gazing down at his hands, dumbfounded.
"Whatâ" he rasps, his chest heaving. "Whatâs happening to me?"
âWhat the hell is this?â Thomas sneers in disgust. He stumbles, reaching for the wall to steady himself. âFigures... Of course my sonâs a freak.â
âYou were always a fuck-up,â he continues in his drunken rage. âUseless, soft... a disappointment from the start. Just like your mother. Look at you now, boy.â
âIâm not your boy,â James snarls through gritted teeth, rage building inside him. His eyes flash dangerously. Itâs as if something inside him has snapped, some deep, instinctual part of him that has been lying dormant, waiting for this very moment.
âYouâre right. Youâre no son of mine. Just a goddamn mistake. Shouldâve left you in the dirt with yourâ"
Before he can finish, a roar rips from Jamesâs throat. So raw, so animalistic, you get goosebumps. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, and then, with terrifying speed, he lunges.
In an instant, his claws sink deep into Thomasâs chest with a thunk. The force of the blow sends the older man crashing back, disbelief and agony seizing his face as blood sprays across the room, spattering the walls and floor. His body thrashes, his hands weakly grasping at his sonâs wrists, but thereâs no strength left in him.Â
A gurgling gasp bubbles from his throat, and then it's over. He collapses to the ground, lifeless, as James stands over him, claws retreating back into his skin.Â
"James!" Mrs. Howlett screams, her voice piercing. "What have you done?!"
You donât know how to react. You canât process it, canât breathe. All you know is that you need to get out of hereâget James out of here, away from this nightmare before it consumes him. Without thinking, you rush to his side, grabbing his bloodied hand.
"We have to go!" you say urgently.
His eyes dart to you, frantic and unfocused but he doesnât resist as you pull him toward the door. His mother's cries echo behind you, but you canât stop, canât look back.
You runâboth of youâthrough the hallways, out the back door, and into the dark of night. The wind whips around you, stinging your face, but you donât stop. You run until your legs burn, until youâve entered the surrounding forest, and the Howlett estate is nothing but a distant shadow behind you.Â
All the while, Jamesâs hand stays locked in yours.
Branches scratch everywhere, at your arms, your face, and the underbrush tugs at your clothes as if trying to hold you back, but you push on. Only after the first light of dawn begins to creep in, does the exhaustion hit. Bodies aching and bruised, the two of you collapse beside a small stream.Â
Youâre on your back, catching you breath, when you tilt to your head to look over at your friend. Heâs sitting down, with his hands out in front of him, leering at them. He struggles for air, his breaths coming in short, panicked bursts, and his clothes are torn, stained with bloodâhis fatherâs blood, Thomasâ blood.Â
His claws are long retracted, but the scars of where they came out of his skin are there, fresh.Â
"James," you whisper, but he doesnât respond. Slowly, you crawl over to his side, pain flaring with each movement. When you reach him, you sit on your knees, looking up at him, trying to meet his gaze. You repeat his name, more firmly this time.
He finally looks at you, but heâs broken. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a choked, almost inaudible, "What did I do?"
Your heart aches for him. Reaching out, you gently take one of his bloodied hands in yours, and as soon as your skin touches his, he flinches, pulling back slightly. "I killed him." he whispers, more to himself than anything. âIâI didnât mean to, I swear I didnât mean to!"
"Hey, listen to me," you say. "You didnât know. You couldnât have known this would happen."
"I killed him," he repeats. "I killed Thomas. Iâ" He glances down at his hands, at the scars along his knuckles, and his expression crumples completely. âHe was my father.â
You donât know what to say, donât know how to fix this, but you know you have to try, so you wrap your arms around him. At first, he stiffens, but then he collapses to the ground, pulling you down with him. You land on top, your chest pressed against his as the weight of your bodies crashes into the soft earth. He squeezes you like youâre the only thing keeping him grounded, his face buried in your shoulder as his breath comes in short, broken sobs.
"I didnât mean to do it," he repeats, the words muffled against your skin. "Something just changed inside me. What am I? What am I turning into?"
âHush," you whisper, moving one of your hands to brush his hair. "Look at me. Just breathe, okay? Youâre not alone in this. Weâll figure it out together, I promise."
His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. Itâs overwhelming, but you donât push him away. Instead, you let him hold you as tightly as he needs, your fingers gently stroking the back of his head, trying to console him in any way you can.
"Iâm a monster," he whimpers. "What if I hurt you, too?"
"You wonât," you affirm, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper. "Youâre not a monster. This⌠this thing that happened, it doesnât change who you are. Youâre still you."
Beneath you, his body shakes, overcome by emotion he holds onto you. Your forehead is pressed to against his, your breath mingling with his while you continue to whisper reassurances, telling him over and over that itâs going to be okay, that heâs not alone.
Minutes pass, maybe longerâyou lose track of time as you lie there together. Gradually, his cries begin to quiet, his breathing slowing as the storm inside him starts to subside. His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesnât let go fully, still cradling you in his arms.
Shifting, you raise your head to look at him. His eyes are red, his face pale, but heâs calmer. You start to pull yourself off of him, but as you're standing up, he grasps your hand again, and he looks at you with a tired, grateful expression, squeezing it gently as if to say everything he canât put into words yet.
Then, you continue. Hand in hand, you move deeper into the forest. And finally, after a few more hours, you notice something in the distance. Through the trees, there are rooftops, small and clustered together, their chimneys trailing thin lines of smoke into the evening sky.
âA town,â you whisper, the first word youâve spoken in hours.
He follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of the small mining town nestled in the valley.
In it, the peopleâs faces are etched with lines of hard labour and even harder lives, but still, you know youâll be safe there.Â
â
Initially, itâs difficultâthis new life you and James have carved out is a far cry from the comforts of the Howlett estate. The town youâve settled in is rough and unpolished. You both share a modest shack on the outskirts, a place that feels foreign and strange, but over time, it starts to become home.
He finds work in the mines almost immediately. The foreman takes one look at him, his broad shoulders and strong arms, and practically shoves a shovel in his hand without asking any questions. The job is tough, but it suits him.Â
Every evening, he comes back to you covered in soot and dirt, his hands rough and calloused, his face lined with exhaustion. You can see the toll the work takes on him, how his body aches, but thereâs something else tooâa measure of peace that wasnât there before. Itâs as if heâs found a way to silence the chaos inside him, at least for a little while.
Itâs not long before everyone in town begins to call him Logan, a name he offers with indifference when asked.
A new identity.Â
Logan is a man who works hard, who keeps to himself, who doesnât ask for anything more than a paycheck at the end of the week.Â
Logan is a man who doesnât need anyone, who can survive on his own.Â
To you, heâs still James.Â
In the quiet moments, when itâs just the two of you, he lets down the walls, lets you see through the façade. And when you whisper his nameâJamesâhe closes his eyes as if that one word alone soothes something deep in his soul.
After weeks of watching him silently carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, you offer him a rag to wipe his face as he sits down at the small table youâve cobbled together from scraps. He takes it without a word, rubbing at the grime on his skin.
âYou donât have to do this forever, you know,â you say softly, leaning against the table as he tosses the rag aside. "Thereâs more to life than breaking your back underground."
He glances at you. "Itâs all Iâm good for now."
"Youâre good for more than that," you reply walking up to him, reaching for his hand. He lets you take it, like he always does. "You canât let what happened define you."
His jaw tightens, but he doesnât pull away. Instead, he gives your hand a small squeeze, his eyes drifting to the floor as he mumbles, "Whatâs inside me⌠itâs different. You donât know what itâs like."
You donât argue. How could you?
The changes in him, the way his strength has grown, how his senses have sharpened, it all impacts him. He can hear things no one else can, smell the rain long before it falls, and even in complete darkness, he sees as clearly as if it were day. His powers are evolving, changing him.
But you know, deep down, that the man sitting in front of you is your friendâyour Jamesâno matter what heâs become.
Youâve seen him wrestle with the fear of what he might turn into, the fear of losing control, but you also see the man who leans into your touch, who lets you bandage his hands after long days in the mines, who presses his forehead to yours when the nights grow too heavy with silence.
And as your time together in the town goes by, there is a shift.
It starts with small thingsâa lingering glance, a brush of your fingers as you pass each other in the kitchen, the way he looks at you when he thinks youâre not paying attention.
Then, it moves to bigger gestures. When youâd pack him his lunch fo the day, you slip in a small piece of parchment with a heart hastily drawn on it, or at night time, instead of falling asleep backs turned toward each other, awkwardly trying to ignore whatever tension is brewing, you fall asleep in his arms, and wake up the same way.
It gets to a point where you can neither of you can deny it.Â
Youâve fallen in love.
â
Itâs late, and youâre sitting by the fire outside the small cabin, waiting for him to return from one of his now-frequent disappearances into the woods. You used to worry about where he went, afraid he was distancing himself from you, so one night you followed him. What you found took your breath awayâhim, sitting out on a ledge, with some wild animals surrounding him. There was something in him that they must have recognized, a mutual respect that seemed to transcend anything human.
Since then, youâve let him go without asking questions, trusting that those nights in the woods bring him the peace he canât find anywhere else. But tonight, when he returns, heâs different. He doesnât just brush past you to head inside. Instead, he sits beside you by the fire.
You turn to him, about to ask if everythingâs alright, but the words catch in your throat when his hand cups your jaw. His grip is gentle, hesitant, as if heâs afraid to break the moment, but in his eyes, you find a longing, a yearning, that mirrors your own.Â
His thumb brushes over your cheek, and for the first time in a long time, thereâs no hesitation in his movements. Your heart stutters, and when he pulls you closer, you let him. His lips meet yours, careful at first, but as you kiss him back, you feel the stress drain from his body.Â
The kiss deepens, slow, tender, and everything youâve ever wanted.
â
The next few years are a kind of peaceful bliss you never expected. With each passing day, you and Logan seem to fall deeper into each other, the bond you share growing stronger, more intimate, like youâve finally found the rhythm of the life you were always meant to have together.
Mornings are your favourite. He always wakes up first, moving quietly so as not to wake you, and heâs gotten into the habit of making you breakfast. You always sneak out of bed and snake your arms around him from behind, pressing your face into his back as he grumbles about you not getting enough sleep. âYouâre always up too early,â heâd say.Â
âI like being up with you,â youâd mumble in response, and heâll turn around, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his eyes soft and full of that quiet, steady love heâs never really put into words. And then heâd kiss you like he has all the time in the world, even if he has to head over to the mines.Â
On your days off from your job at the pub, youâll spend hours together, finding little ways to enjoy the simplicity of your life. He will sometimes take you out to the woods behind the house, where youâd walk the trails together. He points out the different wildlife, the plants you donât recognize, and you tease him about being a mountain man. Heâd smirk, giving you that low, raspy chuckle that never fails to make your heart seize in your chest, and tug you closer to his side.
In the evenings, oftentimes, you sit together while you knit, something that started as a hobby but quickly became one of your preferred pastimes. He always pretends to be uninterested, but heâll watch you anyway. âYouâre getting good at that,â heâd say gruffly.Â
âWant me to make you a sweater?â You smirk, raising an eyebrow.
âMaybe,â heâd grumble, but you can tell heâs secretly pleased at the idea.
The town itself becomes part of your life together, too. Youâve made friends with the locals, joining a small knitting club. If he has time, Logan drops by the pub on your shifts just to check in, sitting at the bar with a beer and watching you work. When your gazes connect very now and then, he gives you that lookâthe one that says heâs proud of you, that heâs content.
âWeâve got a good thing here,â he murmurs one night, holding you close.Â
âYeah,â you agree softly, kissing his cheek. âWe really do.â
But, all good things must come to an end.Â
The mining town, though small and isolated, isnât immune to the tensions that fester beneath the surface. Harsh conditions, grueling work, and the endless grind wear people down, turning frustration into anger, and anger into violence. Fights break out often, especially in the saloon after a long day when men try to drown their sorrows in whiskey. You both have learned to keep your distance from such skirmishes, knowing nothing good ever comes from getting involved.
Still, one night, as you return home from your evening shift at the pub, you hear the unmistakable sounds of a brawl breaking out in the middle of the street. Shouts reverberate through the cold air, followed by the crash of breaking glass. Your heart races as you recognize the deep, guttural growl cutting through the noiseâa sound you know all too well.
On impulse, you rush toward the commotion, dread pooling in your stomach. You know this wonât end well. Not here. Not for him.
When you reach the scene, your worst fears are confirmed. He stands in the centre of the chaos, fists clenched at his sides. Two men circle him, their faces twisted with drunken aggression, goading him. The small crowd thatâs gathered seems almost entertained, too caught up in the spectacle to understand the true danger festering.
âJames!â you shout, trying to get his attention, but to no avail.
One of the menâa burly miner youâve seen around town a few times, always looking for troubleâlunges forward, his fist swinging. The punch connects with your manâs jaw, hard enough to stagger him back, but instead of falling, you see something shift in Loganâs expression. His eyes darken, his jaw tightens. Then, his claws slowly begin sliding out of his knuckles.
The crowd gasps, and the laughter dies immediately.
âDonât come any closer,â he growls, his voice low and full of warning. His chest heaves as he struggles to keep control, but you can see the fire burning behind his eyes. Heâs on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself.
But the miner, too drunk and furious to notice or care, spits on the ground. âFreak!â he slurs, venom lacing every word. âYou think you scare me?â
He charges at Logan again, fists swinging recklessly. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you scream for him to stop. But itâs too late. Logan tries to pull back, to stop whatâs about to happen, but the man is too close, too fast.
Everything slows down, the world moving in fractured seconds. Claws slice through the air, meeting flesh with a sickening thud. The miner gasps, his eyes widening in shock as he stumbles, clutching at his chest where the claws have sunk deep. Blood blooms around his hands, staining the dirt beneath his feet.
And suddenly, youâre thrust back into the past. You see James as he was all those years ago, his claws dripping with blood after killing Thomas. The memory crashes into youâthe look of fear on his face, the horror in his eyes, the way he stumbled back, realizing what heâd done.
Just like now.
Loganâs eyes go wide, his expression mirroring that same devastation. He steps back, staring at the miner who crumples to the ground, gasping for breath. What follows is a deafening silence, the air thick with shock and disbelief. The townspeople that had been so eager for a show now stand frozen, eyes wide, faces pale.
The man gasps one last breath, then goes still.
Logan stares at the body at his feet, his claws still extended, still dripping with the manâs blood. His chest heaves, his breath shallow, and he mutters under his breath, barely audible, "Oh god⌠Not again."
You rush to his side, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Come on, letâs go home."
He doesnât move. Heâs locked in place, staring at the man heâs just killed. His hands tremble, the claws still out, and you can see the raw pain in his eyes as the reality of whatâs just happened sinks in.
"I didnât mean to," he whispers again, his voice cracking. "I didnât⌠I didnât mean toâŚ"
â
That night, while you're sleeping, Logan makes his decision.
And when you wake up the next day, the space beside you is cold.
The shack feels too quiet, too still.Â
All you can do is stare at the empty spot in your bed. You tell yourself that maybe heâs outside, chopping wood or heâs already left for work. But deep down, you know.Â
Throwing on your boots, you donât bother to change out of your nightclothes, and rush outside. His name is the first thing out of your mouth, sharp and desperate. "James! Logan!" Your voice barrels through the small yard, bouncing off the trees and fading into the cool morning air.Â
Thereâs no answer.
Panic grips you as you search the familiar placesâaround the shack, the small trail he likes to take into the woods, by the creek where he often spends time when he needs to clear his head. Thereâs no sign of him.
No footprints, no lingering scent. Nothing.
The townspeople stare as you move through the streets. They know what happened. They saw the claws, the blood. And now, they see youâa reminder of the violence that tore through their quiet lives. But you donât care about their judgment right now. Youâre too focused looking for him, too frantic to worry about the whispers that follow in your wake.
"Have you seen him?" you ask one of the miners who had once shared a drink with him, but he shakes his head and pulls away from you, muttering something under his breath. Everybody keeps their distance, their faces closed off, avoiding your gaze.Â
By the time the sun climbs higher in the sky, the truth settles in your chest like a heavy stone. He left. You wander the streets a little longer, until exhaustion finally forces you back to the shack.
He didnât say goodbye. He didnât even leave a note. The man who you shared your life with, who you fell in love with, is goneâand he isnât coming back.
In the days that follow, everything changes. The people who once greeted you with a nod or a smile now avert their eyes when you walk by. They speak in hushed tones, voices thick with suspicion and disdain.Â
Nobody cares that you had nothing to do with what happened in the street that night. To them, youâre guilty by association.
It starts slowly, but the gossip spreads like wildfire. Saying thinks like: you knew what Logan was all along, that you hid his secret, allowed him to kill their men. Their anger turns to you, and before long, you become the pariahâcut off, unwelcome, the person responsible for the death of one of their own.
The day they decide to exile you is gray and heavy, the sky thick with the promise of rain. No one has the decency to say it to your face. Instead, you wake to a note slipped under your door, the word leave scrawled across it in angry, uneven letters.
You pack what little belongings you haveâa few clothes, some keepsakes from the life you left behind at the Howlett estateâand sling a small bag over your shoulder. Then, you walk away without looking back.
Stretching out before you is a desolate, abandoned looking road. Your legs ache with every step, your feet blistering inside your boots, but you donât stop. The memories of Logan, the town, the life you tried to build together swirl in your mind.
The sound of a a horse whinnying pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to see a carriage approaching. The coachmanâa man with kind eyes and a weathered faceâslows as he pulls alongside you. His voice soft and cautious as he asks, "Need a ride?"
Nodding, youâre too exhausted to respond with words, and climb into the passenger seat. He doesnât ask many questions, sensing perhaps that youâre a soul in need of silence more than conversation. He drives in quiet companionship, the horses' feet against the dirt the only sound breaking the stillness.
He takes you to the nearest town, dropping you off with a quiet wish for better days ahead. You thank him and give him a few coins. Youâre standing on the edge of a new beginning, unsure of where to go next but knowing, with painful certainty, that the past is behind you now.
â
In this new place, you slowly begin to rebuild what youâve lost. It isnât easyâthere are nights when the loneliness threatens to swallow you whole and days when the weight of losing your best friend feels too much to bear. Still, you find work at a small shop, rent a modest room in the quieter part of town, and painstakingly, you carve out a new existence.Â
Though no matter how hard you try to move forward, heâs always there. A shadow, lingering in the corners of your mind. You canât forget himâthe way he looked at you with those intense, searching eyes, the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, the way he left without a word. Your entire childhood, your early adulthood, revolved around him. He was the best part of your life. Every moment spent with him was cherished, imprinted in your memory like a brand you canât erase.
Nights are the hardest. When the world is quiet, and itâs just you and your thoughts, thatâs when the ache becomes unbearable. Each night, your mind drifts back to him. You tell yourself it wasnât his faultâhe must have believed he was protecting you by leaving.Â
Maybe he thought you would hate him for killing another man with his claws, for unleashing the violence he tried so hard to contain. Maybe he thought you could never forgive him.
But the more you think about it, the more you realize: if he truly believed that, then he didnât know you at all.
And that hurts. A lot.
You start to feel like him in some ways, burdened by secrets and anger with nowhere to go. More often than not, you slip out of the town in your nightgown and into the nearby forest, hoping the solitude will offer some kind of peace. It doesnât, not really, but itâs better than suffocating in your room, choking on memories of what was and what could have been.
â
A year passes since the night he left, and you find yourself standing among the trees once again, lost in thought. Itâs not fairânone of it is. You lost everything, and for what? Because you loved him? Because you could look past his mutation?
All of the emotions youâve done a decent job at managing bubble to the surface, a torrent of grief and rage with nowhere to go. Mindlessly, you draw back your fist and slam it into the trunk of a nearby tree. The impact shoots a sharp pain through your arm, but itâs fleeting, drowned out by the rush of anger. You pull back to punch the tree again, harder this time, desperate for some kind of release.
But the tree doesnât just splinter. It explodes.Â
The force of your punch obliterates the trunk, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. You stagger back, staring at the destruction, stunned. What was just a tall, beautiful arbor is now reduced to nothing but rubble, the strength of your blow far beyond anything a normal person could achieve.
Your breath hitches when it dawns on you. Youâre standing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the evidence of your newfound power. You arenât just grieving the loss of Logan anymore; youâre discovering that you are, just like him, a mutant.
Except, unlike him, youâre alone.
Heâs not here to hold you, to help you make sense of whatâs happening. Heâs not here to run away with you like you once ran away with him. You have no one to share this terrifying revelation with. You have only yourself.
Looking down at your trembling hands, the faint ache in your knuckles nothing compared to the pain in your chest. Itâs as if your heart is breaking all over again.
If you had knownâif you had discovered this power when he was still with youâwould things have been different? Would he have taken you with him? Would you still be together?
You canât stop the questions, canât silence the what-ifs that plague you.
Finally, the dam breaks, and you cry.
Pressing your fists against your eyes, you try to stifle the sobs, but itâs no use. The grief crashes over you in waves as the life you tried to build together all plays out in your mind like some twisted, unending loop.
â
The days bleed into one another.
Each is marked by the slow, steady march of time. You continue to live, to survive, but the discovery of your mutant powers changes everything, setting you on a path you had never imagined.
You learn that you can channel energy through your body, whether that be your emotions, or external, and then amplify it for your own gain. Itâs a power that protects you, that makes you feel invincible, but the more you use it, the more distant you become from the life you once knew.Â
And then thereâs the other side of your mutationâthe ability to heal others by absorbing their injuries.Â
The first time you did it, it was an accident.Â
You were closing up shop, and as you walked along the cobblestone roads, you saw a man lying face down. Instinctively, you quickened your pace, and crouched down beside him. Was he drunk? Dead? Gently, almost hesitantly, you reached out, placing your hand on his back with the faint hope that he was simply unconscious. Your intention was simpleâjust to check if he was breathing, to see if he would stir at your touch.
But the moment your fingers brushed his coat, a violent surge of pain exploded in your mind, like a thunderclap within your skull. The agony was so sudden, so sharp, that it nearly knocked you off your feet.Â
It was more than painâit was as though the manâs suffering had become yours, pulling you into his darkness. Your vision blurred, and for an instant, you could feel it. Blood. Hot and sticky, trickling down your forehead in a slow, steady stream. You raised a trembling hand to wipe it away, expecting to feel the warmth of it on your fingertips.
But there was nothing. No blood. No wound.
Just the phantom sensation of pain that wasnât your own.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. You blinked, gasping for air, trying to steady yourself. When you looked down at the man again, he was stirring, groaning softly. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, as if waking from a long sleep. He looked up at you, confused but grateful, oblivious to the power you had just unleashed.
It feels like a curse, the pain of others transferring to you in ways that leave you gasping for breath. But over time, you learn to control it, to take on only as much as you can handle, and to let the rest fade away.
You never stay too long in one place. Town after town, you move, always careful to keep your powers hidden. The people you encounter are kind enough, but you never allow yourself to get close. You canât afford toânot when the memory of him still haunts you, his absence a constant ache in your heart.Â
What if they leave you too?
Every now and then, there are some nights of passion with a stranger, but you never find another lover, never allow yourself to even consider it.Â
As the years slip by, and you move through life like a ghost, always on the fringes, never fully there. In the beginning, you donât notice itâtime is something you stopped paying attention to long ago. But then, one day, nearly ten years after he left, you catch sight of yourself in a mirror.
Your reflection stares back at you, unchanged, unmarked by the years that have passed. Itâs as if time has forgotten you, leaving you suspended in a state of perpetual youth. This knowledgeâthat you could live indefinitelyâfills you with a sense of purpose you havenât felt in years.
So, when the First World War breaks out, you volunteer as a nurse, determined to use your abilities to save as many lives as you can. The troops who come to you are broken, their bodies ravaged by the horrors of war. You take their pain into yourself, healing them with a touch, until there is nothing left but faint scarsâa reminder of what they have survived.
Itâs during the Second World War that you first hear the rumours. Injured men speak in hushed tones of a man they sawâa soldier who seemed invincible, fighting with a ferocity that borders on the inhuman. They talk of clawsâlong, sharp claws that can cut through anything, and a healing ability that allows him to shrug off injuries that would kill anyone else.
Could it be him? Could he still be out there, after all these years?
You dismiss the thought almost as quickly as it comes. It canât be. He would be dead by now, just like everyone else from your past.Â
He is gone, and you are aloneâthatâs the truth youâve come to accept.
â
Somewhere along the way, you meet Charles Xavier. You donât know how, but he knows you. He knows youâre a mutantâhow you helped in the war. And he wants you to join his team.
Youâve spent so long on your own, relying on your powers to survive, that the idea of joining a team feels foreign, almost impossible. But thereâs something in his eyes, something in the way he speaks of his vision for the future, that resonates with you. This isnât just about survivalâitâs about making a difference, about using your powers to protect those who canât protect themselves.Â
And, perhaps, itâs also about finding closure.
Maybe you can help mutants who struggle with their identity, like he did. Maybe this time, you can stop them from running away from themselves, the way you wish you could have stopped him.
So you agree.
And when you arrive at the mansion, youâre introduced to the others who will become your teammatesâJean Grey, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Ororo Munroe.
The early days are challenging. Learning to work as a team, to trust one another, isnât easy, especially for you, after so many years of solitude. But a camaraderie that develops between all of you, and it feels right. Youâre no longer just a group of shunned mutantsâyouâre a family, united by a common goal.
â
This mission is supposed to be simpleâinvestigate a remote facility rumoured to have ties to illegal mutant experimentation. Charles had briefed the team before sending you out, warning that there might be danger but nothing you couldnât handle as a group. Youâve faced threats before, so when you arrive at the facility, itâs with the usual caution but no real alarm.
The structure looks forsaken at first glance, the exterior covered in years of grime, windows cracked and dark. But as you all approach, something feels wrong. Thereâs an energy in the air, a hum of activity beneath the surface. You can sense it, and by the looks of the others, they feel it too.
âWe should be careful,â Scott mutters lowly as his hand hovers near his visor.
Jean furrows her brows. âIâm sensing...something. There are people here. This place isnât emptyâ
Your stomach twists, and once the team cautiously makes its way deeper into the facility, you start to hear itâthe muffled sounds of machinery, the low hum of voices, and then...a scream.
You freeze.
Youâve heard that scream before, in the dead of night, in memories youâve tried to bury.
James.
Without thinking, you push forward, your body moving on instinct as you race toward the source of the sound. The others call after you, but their voices fade into the background as panic claws at your chest.
The scream grows louder, more desperate, until you burst into a large chamber. And there, in the center of the room, suspended in a tank of bubbling liquid, he is.
His body is thrashing against the restraints that bind him, wires and tubes connected to his skin. Machines whir around him, injecting something into his bodyâsomething molten, silvery.Â
A team of scientists in lab coats and armed guards surround the tank, all of them focused on the cruel procedure unfolding before your eyes.
You can barely breathe. The sight of him, after all these yearsâbeing tortured like this is too much. Pain and rage surge through you, and before you realize whatâs happening, youâre moving again.
âWhat the hell are you doing?!â you scream.
The guards whirl toward you, but youâre already on them. The first one goes down with a single blow, your fist connecting with his chest and sending him flying into the wall. You barely register his body crumpling to the floor before you move on to the next.Â
Behind you, Jean and Scott rush in, their powers flashing as they help subdue the remaining guards, but your focus is on the man in the tank, whose eyes are squeezed shut in pain, body convulsing. You canât think straightâyou can only feel the overwhelming need to make this stop, to save him before the experiment finishes.Â
But itâs too late.
In a roar of destruction, he breaks free from the tank, glass and metal exploding outward in every direction. His eyes are wild, erratic, his mind lost to the pain and the transformationâheâs a force of nature now. A whirlwind of violence and fury.
You try to reach him, but Jean steps forward, her eyes glowing as she raises a hand. âIâm sorry,â she strains. Her telekinetic force slams into him, knocking him off his feet, and his body crumples to the ground, unconscious, the rage finally quieted.
Standing there, panting, your hands are shaking as you stare at his still form. Youâre overwhelmedâby the sight of him after so many years, by the pain of seeing him like this, by the fear that you might lose him before you even got him back.
Scott places a hand on your shoulder, his voice gentle. âWe need to get him out of here.â
You nod, unable to speak, and together, the team lifts Loganâs unconscious body and carries him out of the facility. The entire time, you keep your eyes on him, terrified that if you look away for even a second, heâll disappear. When you finally make it back to the jet, Jean lays him on a stretcher, her powers keeping him sedated for the trip back to the X-Mansion. You sit beside him, your hand hovering just above his, too afraid to touch, too afraid to hope.
The jet lifts off, and your mind races with a thousand questions.Â
How did he end up here? Why did they do this to him?Â
But above all, one thought consumes you: Heâs alive.
After all these years, after all the heartache and loss, LoganâJamesâis still here.
â
He remains unconscious for three days, his body healing from the horrific procedure he endured. You barely leave his side, watching over him as if your presence alone could somehow anchor him back to himself. His breathing is steady, but his faceâitâs both exactly the same and entirely foreign to you. He looks like the man youâve known and loved, but itâs what is on the inside that worries you.
You swallow hard, your gaze tracing the familiar lines on his skin. Where are you, James? you think. Are you still in there?
Jean had done a body scan soon after you brought him back to the mansion, and the results confirmed your worst fears: theyâve bound adamantium to his bones and buried his personality underneath the most powerful brainwashing youâve ever heard of.
Itâs devastating. Whatever relief youâd feltâif any at allâat finding him alive is now eclipsed by the crushing reality of what heâs become.
The day he is scheduled to wake, Charles calls a meeting. The team gathers in the briefing room, and you sit quietly in your chair, replaying everything that led up to this moment.
Following a seemingly endless stretch of silence from you, Charles clears his throat. âIf youâre ready, perhaps you could tell us more about your history with him. It might help us understand what weâre dealing with.â
A deep breath fills your lungs as your hands clutch the tableâs edge tightly. Talking about him, about everything youâve been through together, feels like peeling at old wounds that never really healed. But you know itâs necessary. If anyone is going to help him, they need to know the truth.
âI met LoganâJames, as I used to call himâover a hundred years ago, when I was very youngâ you begin, and you can see the surprise ripple through the room at the admission of your age. âWe grew up together. My parents were servants at the Howlett estate, and I spent most of my childhood by his side. He was my best friend⌠and eventually, he became so much more.â Your voice cracks, and you pause for a moment, collecting yourself.
âAfter a tragedy involving his family, we ran away together. We lived in a small mining town for years, trying to find some semblance of a life, but things fell apart. He left, and IâI spent years trying to forget him, but I never could. He wasâisâeverything to me."
Jean leans forward. âI canât imagine how hard this has been for you,â she says softly. âBut you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that when he wakes up⌠he may not be the man you remember, and not just because of how much time passed.â
You look up at her in confusion. âWhat do you mean?â
She hesitates, exchanging a glance with Charles before continuing. âThe brainwashing they used on him wasnât just designed to make him forget. It was meant to strip away his sense of self entirely. His mind was⌠broken down, piece by piece. What you saw back at the facilityâhis rage, his lack of controlâthatâs whatâs left of him right now.â
Hank speaks next. âWeâll do everything we can to help him, but Jeanâs right. You need to be ready for the possibility that he wonât recognize you. He might not even recognize himself.â
Nodding slowly, your heart sinks further and further with each word.Â
âWe have tools, ways to work through the brainwashing,â he continues, âbut it will take time. And patience.â
âTime,â you echo quietly. âIâve already waited so long.â
Ororo reaches across the table, her hand hovering near yours. âI know this is overwhelming. But you donât have to do this alone. Weâre here to help.â
âI need to see him,â you whisper, your voice firmer than before. âWhen he wakes up, I need to be there.â
Charles nods gently. âOf course.â
â
When he finally stirs, itâs not a gentle awakening. His whole body jerks, his head whipping around in wild confusion. His breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps, and his eyes dart frantically across the room, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, and just as his eyes finally land on you, he freezes.
And for a long moment, neither of you speak.
Thereâs a lump in your throat, and you wait with a bated breath for some flicker of recognition in his eyes, some sign that he remembers youâthat he knows you.
But it never comes.
Instead, his gaze narrows, studying you. âWhere the hell am I?â he grunts. âAnd who are you?â
It hurts more than you expected. You knew this might happenâJean and Charles had warned youâand you thought you had prepared yourself, but it doesnât make hearing it any easier.Â
He doesnât remember you.Â
âJust take it easy,â you manage to say softly. âYouâve been through a lot, James.â
His eyes flicker with confusion as he shifts in the bed, wincing at the movement. "James?" he questions.
You quickly correct yourself. "Logan."
His hand instinctively goes to his chest, fingers brushing against his side as if testing for wounds that arenât there anymore. âWhat is this place?â he asks again.Â
âYouâre at the X-Mansion,â you explain. âYou were... rescued. We brought you here to heal.â
âRescued.â he repeats dryly. âFrom what?â
You hesitate, unsure how much to tell him. How do you explain everythingâthe horrors of Weapon X, the brutal experiments, the torture that nearly destroyed him? You canât even bring yourself to speak the full truth, not yet.Â
âYou were taken,â you say carefully. âBy people who wanted to use you for something terrible. But we got to you before they could. Youâre safe now.â
Logan lets out a short, bitter laugh, though thereâs no humour in it. âSafe,â he mutters, his voice low and sarcastic. âRight.â He rubs a hand across his face.
âWhy do I feel like Iâm missing somethinâ?â he mutters, his irritation growing. âLike... like thereâs something important I should remember.â
Swallowing hard, your heart twists at his words. He is missing something. But you wonât tell him that now. Heâs already grappling with so much, and the last thing he needs is the weight of your shared past thrust upon him before heâs ready.
âDonât worry about it.â Your voice is gentle, coaxing. âItâs... normal to feel confused right now.â
Frowning, he runs a hand through his hair. âLike Iâm supposed to believe that.â
âI know itâs hard to understand,â you say softly. âBut itâll get better. Youâll remember in time.â
He doesnât respond right away, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if heâs searching for answers that arenât there. After a moment, he sighs, his eyes returning to yours. âAlright. Who are you, really?â he asks. âWhy do I feel like I should know you?â
Because we grew up together.Â
Because we were everything to each other.Â
Because you were the one person I never stopped loving.Â
âJust focus on resting,â you say, forcing a soft smile.Â
He studies you briefly, as if trying to figure out whether or not to trust you. Then finally, he nods, thought you can tell heâs still wary âYeah... okay.â
The awkward silence returns.Â
âI should go,â you murmur, standing abruptly. The chair scrapes against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room. âYou need rest.â
He doesnât stop you, doesnât ask you to stay. He just watches as you turn toward the door, and leave.
Your chest tightens painfully as you walk out of the room, the familiar ache of loss settling in once more. Itâs worse this time, thoughâworse because heâs alive, and yet, in every way that matters, heâs gone.
You leave the room in a daze, your mind swirling with a storm of emotions. Your feet carry you down the hall, and before you realize whatâs happening, you find yourself in the washroom.Â
The moment the door clicks shut, your stomach lurches. You barely make it a toilet before youâre retching. Tears sting your eyes, and you brace yourself against the cold porcelain, gasping for breath as your body shakes with sobs.
Standing up and flushing, you walk over to the sink, and press your forehead against the mirror. How did it come to this? You found him, after all these years, but the person in that bed isnât the Loganâit isnât the Jamesâyou once knew.Â
Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you try to pull yourself together. It's not the time to breakdown, you think, and after splashing some water on your face, you turn toward the exit.
Pushing open the door, youâre met with the familiar gaze of Ororo. She stands in the hallway, her white hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes filled with something that feels like both understanding and pity.
Your eyes widen, caught off guard, not expecting to see anyone, least of all her.
âI saw you come in here,â she whispers empathetically, âbut thought you might need a moment.â
You pause, trying to blink away the redness in your eyes, trying to pretend youâre stronger than you feel. But she sees through it. She always has.
âIâm fine,â you say, the words slipping out automatically.
Stepping closer, her gaze softens as she studies your face. âNo,â she disagrees, âyouâre not.â
The vulnerability youâve been trying to keep at bay rushes forward again, threatening to swallow you whole. You open your mouth to argue, to brush it off, but the moment you meet her eyes, the words die in your throat. The pity, the compassionâitâs too much.
Silently, she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. Itâs a small gesture, but it feels grounding.
âI saw him,â you whisper, your voice trembling. âHe doesnât remember me.â
âI know,â she says quietly. âIâm so sorry.âÂ
â
The next few days are a blur. You keep yourself busyâtoo busyâhoping that constant movement will keep the gnawing ache at bay. If you let yourself stop, if you let yourself think about whatâs happened, the hurt would consume you, so you donât stop.
Most of your time is spent in your room or the garden, taking refuge in the places where you can hide from everything, everyone.
Sometimes, you train, pushing your body past its limits in a desperate attempt to silence your thoughts. Every hit you land, every punch you throw, never feels like enough.
Itâs easier this way, you tell yourself. Easier to avoid him, to pretend he never came back into your life. Because the alternativeâwatching him live here, knowing he doesnât remember you, doesnât understand what you once sharedâthatâs too painful.
Youâd rather pretend heâs still a memory than face the reality that the man you love is here, but not really.
When you walk through the mansion, you see him from afar. You canât help but notice how heâs begun to soften around the others, how the confused man who woke up in that bed is slowly adjusting to life at the mansion. He has daily appointments with Charles, who you imagine is sifting through his mind, doing his very best to retrieve something, anything.
While there is still a distance in his eyes, still a guarded edge to him, but you can see the small shiftsâthe way he listens when someone speaks, the faintest hint of a smile when Hank tries to crack a joke.
And sometimes, your eyes meet.
From across the room, youâll catch him watching you. In those moments, your heart skips a beat, wondering if thereâs a reason why heâs zeroed in on you specifically, but then he looks away, and it passes. You never approach him, never ask him how heâs feeling or if heâs starting to remember anything. Youâre too afraid of the answer.
One night, you sit in the garden, letting the soft breeze play with your hair, eyes closed.Â
âMind if I sit here?â
The voice startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyelids flutter, and as you turn, your heart jolts upon seeing Logan standing at above you. And momentarily, itâs like youâre teenagers againâsneaking out at night into the gardens to talk.Â
âSure,â you nod, gently patting the space beside you, as you always did.Â
He steps closer and sits down, though not without leaving a small space between the two of you. âIâve been seeing you around,â he says after a beat.. He doesnât look at you, his gaze focused on the flowers in front of him. âBut... youâve been avoidinâ me, havenât you?â
A small laugh escapes you, bitter and self-deprecating. âYou noticed, huh?â
âYeah, not much gets past me. Even that one guyâs attempts at being a leader.â
Despite yourself, you snort. âScott?â
He chuckles, shaking his head. âHeâs too easy. Guy looks like a human stoplight with those stupid glasses.â
You bite back a snicker, feeling like a teenager again. The banter, the lighthearted teasingâit makes it seem like maybe, just maybe, thereâs still something left of the man you knew.
He turns his head slightly, his expression growing more serious. âYou know, Iâve been trying to figure it out,â he says, quieter now. âWhy it feels like somethingâs missing. Every time I see you... I know youâre related to it.â
Shifting a little to look at him, you take in the way his facial hair is a little bit more kempt, how he still has his hair tufts. You miss him, and heâs right here with you.Â
âI... thought it would be easier,â you admit, staring down at your hands. âFor both of us. If I kept my distance. I didnât want to add to your stress.â
Frowning, his brows furrow as he processes your words. âAdd to it? How?â
âBecause you donât remember me,â you say softly. âAnd I didnât want to be a reminder of something you canât recall.â
He stares at you for a long moment. Then, âyouâre right. I donât remember everything,â he says slowly, âbut I know thereâs something about you.â
You nod, your throat tight, but you donât push him. You know itâs only a matter of time before the pieces fall into place. âYouâll remember,â you whisper. âI know it.â
He grunts. âI donât want you to keep your distance.â
âI wonât. Not anymore.â The idea of him wanting to spend more time with you, fills you with joy.
â
For the next few weeks, it becomes a quiet routineâthe nightly conversations in the garden. Itâs like slipping into an old rhythm, the two of you always finding a way to gravitate toward each other once the sun goes down. You talk about small things, but it's never too heavy. Sometimes he teases you, and you tease him back, exchanging sarcastic quips. Nothing and everything has changed at the same time.
Youâve started training together too, spending more and more time together each day. Itâs almost as if thereâs a magnet between you that not even time could weaken.
This night, youâre in the gym together on the sparring mat. Itâs the usual scenario playing outâdodging, blocking, throwing punches. Heâs fast and strong. And it means a lot to see you see him finally embrace his mutant powers and use them, rather than try to hide and run.Â
Youâre both breathing hard, the exertion pushing your bodies to their limits. You land a solid kick to his side, and he grunts, stepping back for a moment. Without warning, his claws extend, and your gaze locks in on them.
Of course you know about the adamantium, but seeing it like this, so up close, itâs different.Â
âWhat?â Logan asks, noticing your sudden stillness. His brow furrows, and he glances down at his claws, as if heâs only just realizing theyâre out. âWhat are you staring at?â
âDoes it hurt?â you question, clearing your throat. âWhen they come out?â
He tilts his head, his gaze flicking between you and his claws. âEverytimeâ he sighs. âBut not as much as the old ones.â
Your eyes snap up from his claws to meet his. â... What?â you ask. The old ones?
âThey were bone,â he continues, âHurt like a bitch.â
Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Could this be it? Could he be remembering?
Stepping closer, your voice trembles slightly as you push for more. âWhat else do you remember?â
His eyes widen, and then he blinks, his stare glazing over for a second, like heâs trying to chase down a memory thatâs just out of reach.
âI⌠I donât know,â he admits with a bit of frustration. His claws retract, his hand flexing unconsciously as he stares at the empty space where the blades once were. âItâs all bits and pieces. I get these flashes, but nothing sticks. Charles said... he said the barriers in my mind are cominâ down, but itâs slow. Like finding a damn needle in a haystack.â
But the fact that he remembers even a sliver, is enough to fill you with hope.
â
This continues, the small fragments of memories coming back to him. They come unexpectedly, at random times in the day. Itâs never anything big, never the full flood of memories youâre hoping for, but each time it happens, it feels like another piece of the puzzle falling into place.
You suggest a walk one afternoon. The mansion has felt a little too closed in lately, and you think maybe the fresh air might help clear his mind. Together, you wander along a little pathway that connects the mansion to a nearby river, the sound of the water in the distance a soothing backdrop as you walk side by side. Heâs quiet, more so than usual, and as you glance at him, you notice his expression has grown distant.
âLogan?â you ask softly, nudging his arm. âWhatâs on your mind?â
He doesnât answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. His brow is furrowed, like heâs trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle, his thoughts distant, swirling. âI rememberâŚâ he starts, his voice quiet, as if heâs speaking more to himself than to you.
Your fingers begin to twitch at your side. Every time he remembers something, it feels like youâre standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if heâll fall into the past, if this will be the moment he remembers it all.
âA cabin,â he says finally, his voice rough but certain. âThere was a shack. In a small town. I used to stay there.â
You nod, urging him to continue, anticipated building within your chest. âGo on.â
âIt was small. Cold most of the time. But I donât think I cared.â He lets a chuckle. âI liked it. Felt... peaceful.â
You canât help but smile a little at the memories heâs bringing up. His steps falter, and he stops in the middle of the path, turning to look at you. âMining,â he mutters, as if the word itself is triggering something. âI remember mining.â
âThatâs good,â you say. âIâm happy for you.â
â
The memories keep coming.
Youâre in the mansion, passing through one of the long hallways together on your way to eat, when he suddenly stops, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. You turn, concern flooding through you. âAre you okay? What is it?â
He frowns, his eyes narrowing as if heâs trying to force something into focus. âThere was a girl.â
âA girl?â you repeat, not wanting to push him but unable to stop the question from spilling out.
âYeah,â he confirms. âIn a big houseâlike a mansion, I think. We'd play together. She was... she was always following me around. Always gettinâ into trouble.â
You know exactly who heâs talking about.
âDo you remember her name?âÂ
Shaking his head, you can see the frustration etched onto his face. âNo. But she must have been important, I can feel it.â
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to hold yourself together. It was me, you want to say. That little girl was me.
âItâs okay,â you say instead, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. âYouâll remember. Youâre already so close.â
He looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for somethingâanswers, reassurance. Once a few seconds pass, he sighs and shakes his head.
âI donât know how you put up with this,â he grumbles lowly. âWith me.â
âBecause I know you,â you whisper back.Â
To have a chance at another lifetime with him, youâd put up with anything.Â
â
Heâs busy with Jean and Charles this morning, the duo having started to work together last week, trying to finally break down the wall stopping Logan from recovering his memories. With nothing else to occupy you, youâve retreated to the mansionâs library, seeking solace in the endless rows of books. The familiar smell of paper and ink is comforting, and for a while, you manage to lose yourself in the words on the page.Â
Youâre curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a book resting in your lap, when your ears pick up the sound of heavy footstepsâfast, purposeful, ringing out through the mansionâs quiet halls.
Concern rises in your chest. Those footsteps arenât casual; someone is rushing, and youâve been around long enough to know that in here, that usually means somethingâs wrong.
Setting the book down on the small table beside you, you stand and head toward the entrance of the library. The sound grows louder, the footsteps coming closer, and just as you reach the doorway, you collide with a solid wall of muscle.
"Hoâholy shâ" you gasp, stumbling back, startled. Your hands fly to steady yourself, and you look up, wide-eyed, to see Logan standing there. "Logan, you scared mâ"
âJames.â
You still.Â
"What?" you whisper, your mind racing as you stare at him. His face is differentânot just the usual irritated-by-himself expression heâs been wearing lately, but something else. Thereâs a certainty in his eyes, relief and maybe evenâ
âMy name is James,â he repeats. âI was born in Alberta. We grew up together. I... I killed my father.â His voice falters slightly at that, but he pushes through, his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. âYou were the little girl in the mansion. Youâve always been there. And Iââ His eyes brim with emotion. âI love you.â
The words slam into you, leaving you breathless. You can feel the blood drain from your face, your heart jumping so hard it feels like it might burst. âYou... you remember?â Youâre barely able to get the words out.
LoganâJamesâstares at you. âI remember everything.â
A sob escapes your throat, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the floodgates open. His arms come around you immediately, holding you tight, his chin resting on the top of your head.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs. âIâm so damn sorry. I should have never left. I should have gone back to find you.â
You shake your head, tears soaking into his shirt. âIt doesnât matter,â your voice breaks. âNone of that matters anymore. Weâre together now. Thatâs all I care about.â
He pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that wonât stop falling. Thereâs so much loveâso much everythingâin his eyes, your knees nearly buckle. All you do is hold on to him, as tightly as you can, afraid that if you let go, this moment will slip away.
But it wonât, because heâs really here, he remembers, and he still loves you.
For what feels like hours, you stand there in the hallway, wrapped in each otherâs arms. Eventually, you take a small step back, unwrapping your arms and instead grabbing his hands, squeezing them. âWe have a lot to talk about.â
He squeezes your hands back in return. âYeah, we do.â
â
You sniffle, wiping away the last of your tears as you lie in bed with him, pressed so close it feels like youâre trying to merge into one person. His warmth surrounds you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, hands drawing small circles. Itâs like all the years apart never happened, like youâre finally back where youâre meant to be.
âSo, what made it all come back to you?â you ask softly, your voice a bit hoarsefrom all the crying youâve done in the last hour.
James takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. âI guess having two strong telepaths digginâ around in your mind will do the trick,â he responds. âShit was brutal, but... worth it.â
Tilting his head down, he presses a small kiss to your temple. If even possible, you nestle yourself further into his hold.Â
âI thought Iâd lost you forever,â you whisper. âAll those years... I never thought Iâd see you again.â
âSame for me. Thought I lost you too,â James murmurs, his hand running gently up and down your back. âAfter I left the cabin, I tried to forget. Tried to convince myself you were better off without me, but...â He trails off. âI was wrongâa coward. I shouldnât have been runninâ away. Especially from you.â
You look up at him, your eyes searching his. âWhat did you do all those years? Where did you go?â
He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. âI wandered. For a long time, I didnât stay in one place. Fought when I had to, drank when I couldnât forget. Got into a lot of trouble.â He grimaces slightly.Â
You frown. âWhat kind of trouble?â
âThe kind where people like me arenât supposed to be walking free,â he remarks bitterly. âI gave into the monster I thought I was.â
His words sink in, and you can feel the toll those years took on him, the way they left him scarred, not just physically, but emotionally. âIt must have been so hard,â you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. âLiving like that, without... anyone.â
Leaning into your touch, âYeah,â he admits. âIt was. But... I didnât know how to live any other way. Not after everything that happened.â
Thereâs a long pause, the two of you lying there, bodies tangled together as you both process the weight of whatâs been lost and whatâs been found. Then, he kisses the inside of your hand, looking at you with a faint, curious smile.
âWhat about you?â he asks softly, tugging you closer. âWhen did you... ya know, find out you were a mutant?â
The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you donât know how to respond. Youâve never really talked about that part of your life to anyone, at least not in detail.Â
âI didnât know for about a year,â you begin. âAfter you left, I was... lost. And then one day... I punched a tree.â
James raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. âA tree?â
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the memory. âYeah. I was angryâangry at everything. And when I punched it... the damn thing exploded.â
He stares at you for a moment, processing your words. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face. âExploded, huh? Guess thatâs one way to find out youâre not normal.â
You chuckle softly, shaking your head. âYeah, it wasnât exactly subtle.â
His smile fades slightly. âWhat did you do after that?â
Taking a deep breath, you let the memories of those early days as a mutant flood back. âI tried to keep it hidden for a while. Didnât really know what to do with it. But then... the wars started.â
Eyes narrowing, his expression changes instantly. âThe wars?â
Nodding, you continue. âYeah, the First and Second. I volunteered as a nurse. I figured if I could use my powers to help people, then maybe I could make up for everything I lost. I moved station to station, healing soldiers. I couldnât save everyone, but I tried.â
Heâs momentarily quiet, gaze never leaving yours, even as he processes what youâre telling him. Then, slowly, his features shift into disbelief.
âYou were on the frontlines?â His voice low, almost incredulous. He reaches out to brush a few strands of hair out of your face.Â
âYeah. I wanted to make a difference.â
Letting out a sharp breath, James sits up slightly in bed as he stares at you. âHoly shit,â he mutters. âI fought in those wars, too. In the trenches.â
Youâre speechless, and the realization washes over you slowly. The whisperings youâd heard from the troops, the rumours youâd chalked up to be nothing more than drunken tales, suddenly come flooding back. A man who couldnât be killed, who healed from every injury, who fought with claws that could tear through anything.
It was him.
It was always him.
âOh my god,â you breathe. âSo it was trueâŚall those rumours about the man who couldnât die... that was you.â
âYeah,â he says quietly. âGuess it was.â
All those years, all those battles... and you were both there, so close, yet so far apart.Â
âWe were so close,â you say, moving forward in to give him a kiss. âAnd we didnât even know it.â
He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening. Then, when you pull away, he sighs, leaning back against the headboard. âItâs all so different now,â he begins gruffly. âYouâre not the little maid in training anymore, runninâ around that mansion, worried about getting caughtâ
You smile faintly at the memories of your younger selves, the girl you used to be, and the boy who was so much more to you than just a young lord.Â
âAnd youâre not sir James Howlett or whateverâLordâanymoreâ you tease. âYouâve come a long way from the boy who used to sulk in the garden because he had to attend another dinner party.â
He lets out a noise that sounds like a mix between a huff and a laugh âYeah,â he agrees. âThat feels like a lifetime ago. And in a way, I guess it was.â
While neither of you are the same people you once were, in this moment, you can feel that connectionâthe one that has always been there.
âIâve thought about you every day,â he speaks up again. âAll those years.â
âJamesâŚâ
âI love you,â he confesses. âAnd Iâve loved you my whole life. Before we ran away, after I left, even after I thought you were gone... I couldnât forget. Didnât want to.â He sucks in a harsh breath, grabbing your hand once more. âI shouldnât have left. I should have stayed. We couldâve figured it out together, but I was so... so damn scared. I thought if I stayed, Iâd only hurt you.â
You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. âYou did what you thought was right,â you whisper, intertwining your fingers. âYou were scared, and so was I.â
âI wish I could take it all back,â he says, regret bleeding into his tone. âI wish I couldâve been there for you... We couldâve had so many more years together.â
âWe have time now,â you say softly, assuring him. âWe have all the time in the world to make up for it.â
He doesnât respond verbally, but rather he edges forward, brushing his lips softly against yours. âI love you,â he murmurs before closing the gap completely, kissing you passionately.
You smile against his lips, because while he may be known as logan, or Wolverine, heâs still James.
Your James.Â
----
A/N: I'm going to have to either write some crazy smut or excessive fluff now because this took it out of me LOL also I hope none of you got confused with the name switching! Thank you so much for reading <3
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett#logan x reader#logan howlett fic#x men#wolverine#deadpool movie#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x reader#deadpool 3#hugh jackman#logan howlett angst#x men origins: wolverine#wolverine angst#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#angst#mcu#marvel fanfiction#james logan howlett
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Insolent wench ⼠Prince Regent!Aemond
Summary: when he finds the master of whispersâ daughter in the council room in the dead of the night playing with the marble ball he gave to Aegon earlier, the dragon in him is ready to burn or succumb to her.
Pairing: prince regent!Aemond Targaryen x Larys Strongâs daughter reader
Warnings: 18+ mdni! Dark content -> manipulation & blackmail! Dark!reader even a bit of dubcon, virginity loss, virgin!reader, degrading, rough sex, spanking, pussy slapping, breeding, fingering, porn with little plot, ehem using the ball as a toy, Larysâ daughter has zero description, English isnât my first language<3
Word count: 3.07k+
A/n: thank you @namelesslosers for giving me this dynamic idea & thank you @sylasthegrim for beta reading this for me𼚠Happy rough fucking with Aemond everyoneđ¤ Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!đ also I was too lazy to make an aesthetic moodboard for my fic lol
He lurks in the corridors of the Keep that lead to the Small Council room. It has become his little secret, a routine he has always longed to have, and now, after months of yearning, he finally has it.
The halls are silent, and the sound of every step he takes echoes within the walls. Aemond walks with Blackfyre attached to his hip, the heavy weight of the Valyrian steel makes him smirk. Truly, he has never felt an emotion so deeply rooted inside him that makes the hair on his nape rouse, but now being the regent and the protector of the realm does it for him.
He stops for a moment when he finds the door to the councilâs room ajar, the flickering of the candlelight visible from outside. He has never encountered anyone at such an hour, everyone has to be abed, except for the guards who are the ones that arenât found anywhere near this room.
He takes a cautious step towards the door, hearing the sound of a low humming coming from inside. He reaches for Aegonâs dagger, fingers wrapping around the hilt as he pushes the door open slowly, his good eye skimming the room only to find someoneâs back to him, leaning over the table and playing with his marble ball.
âA fine night, is it not, my Prince Regent?â you ask him, your back still to him as you fidget with the ball on the table, walking towards the Kingâs chair with a sway in your hips.
âWhat is your business here, Lady Strong?â he asks, letting go of the dagger before he locks his hands behind his back, walking towards his previous seat at the end of the marble desk.
He watches you closely, his good eye following your every move as you sit down on his chair at the head of the table, rolling the ball between your fingers as you look up from the ball to him slowly.
âI am disheartened by your words to my father,â you say, leaning back on the chair while your thumb rubs over the smooth surface of the marble ball in your hand, âhe has served the King and your grace faithfully.â
Aemond doesnât move from his spot, staring solely at your fingers as they rub and caress what belongs to him. He listens carefully, though he is not sure what good it might come out of conversing with a lady like you at such an hour.
âYour father sought power when he already had more than he deserved,â he replies, taking prolonged steps towards you, stopping at Tyland Lannisterâs empty chair, âmy council is no place for cunning rats like him.â
You chuckle, leaning your head on the back of the chair with a smirk tugging on the corner of your mouth, and it irritates Aemond to no end to see you finding such immense joy in tormenting himâeven though you have not really started yet.
You were always such a strange lady to him; so much like your father in the sense that you stopped at nothing to obtain what you wanted".He has heard tales of your rebellious nature in the court, always listening and bothering the royals with your remarks, but they have failed to tell him about your blinding beauty.
âI thought you were ruling in your brotherâs stead while he recovers, my prince,â you say, pushing the ball until it starts rolling towards where Aemond stands, âallegedly, this is his council, not yours.â
âYet your father assumed heâd be my Hand, not my brotherâs,â he moves the ball on the table as he walks towards Orwyleâs seat, his gaze never leaving yours, âit does make me wonder how hungry both he and you are for the attention of the royals, my lady.â
âOh, you have mistaken my motives, your grace,â you stand up, stepping on the opposite side of him, matching his pace as he rounds the table with confidence until heâs standing behind the Kingâs chair, âI am not here to seek power or the attention of the royals, no. I am here to tell you that sometimes you need to think before you utter some words; ugly rats like my father as you said, tend to thrive on them, best is to learn how to say those words without causing a problem.â
âMind your tongue, little girl,â Aemond spits out the words, closing his fingers around the ball tightly before he strides towards you purposefully with a tinge of fury in his steps.
âNot little, my prince,â you match his tone, standing where you are until he is right in front of you, the purple of his eye now fully gone as darkness seeps through his iris, âcertainly older than you. I reckon you like older women, given your rendezvous to the brothel and all.â
His hand comes up to grip your jaw, squishing your cheeks harshly as he looms over you, his face inches away from yours as his nostrils flare in anger.
âWatch yourself, insolent wench. You are in no position to drag my name in the dirt. Your father tried, and look where he is nowâcalled a Toad by me, dismissed as my Hand and ready to fetch Otto Hightower like a dog,â he says through gritted teeth, his nails digging into your face as he leans closer, his hot breath hitting your lips.
âYour name is already filthy by your own hands. You and Larys Strong have more in common than you think; both kinslayersââ he cuts you off by spinning you away from him, pushing you down on the table roughly by his large palm on your back.
âFilthy whores like you should be executed in the muddy streets of Flea Bottom and their heads parading around the city on a spike,â he presses himself against your back, his crotch rubbing against your skirt, âLucky for you, I know how to treat girls like you.â
âI assumed His Grace took no pleasure in taking whores,â you laugh with a jab in your tone at him, âI would love to see how you treat them though. Your brother is the one with tales of his masterful bedding, not you.â
âTormenting me at the hour of the wolf has severe consequences which I will deliver to you accordingly, Strong,â he groans against your ear, reaching for his dagger to tear through the fabric of your dress, the remaining layers falling on the floor with ease. âPunishment or not, you will learn you shall never wake the dragon for you will burn and the only thing that will remain is your ashes.â
Your small clothes join your ruined dress on the floor, leaving you bare and dripping to the Prince Regentâs eye, devouring the sight of your flesh like a man starved.
The moan that slips from your lips when you feel something cold against your heated cunt is shameless, just like the sound a whore in the Street of Silk would make.Â
Aemond starts rubbing your buzzing pearl with the marble ball between his fingers, his breathless laugh against the shell of your ear only makes the feeling of the coldness against your most vulnerable part much stronger.
âYou were playing with my property, now I shall use it to make you a property of mine as well,â he whispers, his teeth sinking in the flesh of your neck as he moves the ball faster, your juices flowing down on the cold stone in his hand.
You realize you have awakened the beast within him as he quickens his movements, one hand pinning you to the table and the other rubbing the bundle of nerves furiously, tightening the knot in your core. You fist your hands, nails digging into your palm as your breathing turns into panting.
âIt is in your blood it seems, to enjoy having the attention of someone who can easily snap your neck in half,â he mumbles more to himself than you, pleased with how shaky you have become, âyou see, insolent wenches like you should be put in their place. How fortunate you are to be under my care.â
As soon as you feel your breaking point, he takes away the ball from your cunt, making you whine and arch your back in protest. He chuckles darkly, bringing the ball to your lips before he orders you to suck and clean the ball off your juices.
âMy Princeââ
âGo on, you tart, show your prince how much of a power-hungry slut you are, maybe I will reconsider naming your father as my Hand.â
You comply, licking your nectar off the cold marble, humming at the taste. Aemond knows these games, at least he knew them with the little education he had in the brothels, but you? You are a different kind of lady, a master in disguise. It irritates and arouses him to no end.
Aemond lets go of the stone, bringing his palm down on your arsecheek roughly, making you yelp in surprise. He repeats his action, slapping your backside one more on the same spot he did a few seconds ago.Â
You whine in pain and unbelievable pleasure as the sting of his hand spreads through your flesh, a deep primal desire rushing to your aching pussy. He looks down to find you wetter than before, and the sight makes him almost lose his self-restraint, almost.
You wrap your hand around the ball tightly, crying out when you feel the impact of another spank not on your bottom but on your cunt. The pain mixes with an undeniably overwhelming pleasure that has you biting your lip, not wishing to give him the satisfaction. He senses it anyway and hears the muffled scream as he lands another slap on your swollen folds with a sinister smile.Â
âI wonder if your father knows of your whereabouts, his daughter ready to be turned into his future kingâs whore,â he brings two of his fingers to his mouth, covering them with his spit before he reaches down to play with your pussy, no patience left in him as he thrusts his fingers inside you, groaning at the feel of your warmth.
You do not have the chance to tell him about your maidenhead, and with how fast he is moving his fingers, you can no longer think of it as an issue â your plans are falling into the right path.
Your mind has turned into a mush with how luscious his fingers feel inside you, not a foreign feeling but his fingers are much longer and thicker than you and reach deeper inside you, having you moaning and clawing the table.
âIt only takes a few fingers to have your mouth shut, Lady Strong. I wonder what youâd do when I have my cock deep in your cunt,â he leans down to lick at your cheek, his fingers moving faster as he presses his bulge to your thigh. This time, he doesnât pull away and keeps his pace up, curving his digits to hit your sweet spot rapidly, bringing you closer to your high.Â
âMy prince, pleaseââ
âThatâs it, Strong, give it to me,â he groans out the words, resting his forehead on the side of your face. He hums as soon as you start shaking and tightening around his fingers, gushing your wetness on him.
He doesnât kiss you, no, he just licks over your lips as you moan and part them in pure delight, seeing stars as your peak rocks your body forward.Â
âFuck it, I need to be buried inside you, seeing for myself how the real blood of Strongs feels like,â he says, biting your cheek as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the red handprint on your bottom before reaching for his doublet, unbuttoning it and pulling his linen undershirt out of his leather pants. His fingers unlace his trousers quickly, pushing them and his breeches down enough for his cock to spring free.
He aligns his leaking tip with your soaked entrance, filling you to the hilt with one swift snap of his slim hips. Aemond groans, your wet pulsating walls enveloping his length in a delicious way that not even Sylvie has made him feel.
His hands make a home on your hips as soon as he starts thrusting his cock at a fast bruising pace, not letting you adjust to how his girth stretches your walls more than you thought youâd expect. Your maidenhead is now gone, you can feel his tip licking at the head of your womb, nudging it with each snap of his hips to yours.
Aemond cannot take his eye off of the way his cock disappears inside you, coated with your essence and wetness as he fucks you with abandon, his brain foggy with a desire he has only felt while burning his brother and killing his nephewâyou are special in his eye, you awaken the dragon within him, insolent wench as he so likes to call you.
Your hands grow clammy, and the ball falls from your grasp with Aemondâs rough hammering, rolling on the table until it falls on the floor, making a loud uncomfortable noise that matches your unladylike moans and gasps in pleasure.
âYou canât even hold a fucking ball in your hands, Strong. Is your father as weak as you? Will he succumb to me the way you have with just a cock inside your tight pretty cunt?â
It is you who has succumbed to me, you think to yourself as coherent as your thoughts can get without the feeling of him overwhelming your senses. You nod mindlessly, thinking of how he has fallen into your trap so easily.
He comes hard, his hip bones pushing your plush thighs to the rough edges of the councilâs table, filling you to the brim with his royal seed. Aemondâs head is thrown back, groaning at your name as his cock twitches inside you, the final ropes of his warm cum painting your walls.
âWhat have you done?â you ask shakily, faking terror as you try to push him away from you,Â
âwhatâ how could you, my prince?â
âWhat?â he asks dumbfounded, pulling his now softened cock out of you, looking at you with his mind now sharper than before, âwhat are you saying, my lady?â
âWhich lord will now take me as his bride? I amâmay the Seven help meâ I am tainted! I-I cannot find a husband, m-my maidenhead!â
âYouâŚâ Aemondâs voice falters, âyou were⌠you were still a maiden?â
âI was! How crude you have to be to sully my name like a- like the whores you visit? I cannot believe youââ
âWait!â he tries to reach for you, his lips parted in sheer surprise and terror as you push away from him, nearly dropping on his knees, âMy Lady, we should have a wordââ
âNo!â You fix your dress as best as you could, shaking your head as you run away from him, opening the doors without even looking at him, leaving him shocked and confused with his soft dick out, looking like a deer caught by the hunters.
With so little sleep, Aemond walks through the same hallways he took last night, waltzing inside the small council with a pulsating heart. His eye finds Larys alone in the room, humming as he plays with the marble ball you â his daughter â were playing with last night.
âMy Prince Regent,â Lord Larys stands up and bows, âwhat a lovely day, do you not think so?â
âLovely morrow indeed,â Aemond says, sitting at the head of the table, glaring at Larys who rolls his marble ball from side to side, âstate your mind or leave me.â
âMy daughter, Your Grace,â Larys sighs, a ghost of a smirk finding its way onto his face, âshe was⌠in a not-so-pleasant state for her status when she sought me out.â
âWhat of her?â Aemond tries to remain unbothered, but he knows there is a scheme going on that his intelligence could not pick up on last night.
âShe said you forced yourself upon her,â Larys drops the ball on the floor as he locks his hand on the table, his eyes meeting Aemondâs, glaring at him with newfound confidence, âthat no Lord will take her now, that you have tainted and impured my daughter!â
âI assure you, my good Lord, that is a lie. Your daughter was the one who made me do itââ he tries to reason with him, but Larys has none of it.
âSo you admit that you yielded to your desires and took my daughterâs innocence! How wild, how disgusting! To know I wished to be in your councilââ
ââMind your tongue, Lord Larys. I do not care if you are to leave the Keep, but you will not talk to me as if Iâm lesser than I was before!â Aemondâs voice booms through the room, slamming his fist on the table as he stands up.
âYou are a lesser man, Prince Aemond. A man who gave into his desires and used his power over a helpless noble womanâŚâ
âWhat is it you wish for me to do? I have not forced myself upon your daughter, she partook in the act willingly if not more enthusiastically than me.â Aemondâs breathing changes and his knuckles turn white as he tries to stop himself from doing something he would surely regret.
âShe was crying in my arms last nightââ
âName it and it is yours!â Aemond yells at him, walking to grab Larys by his collar, âYou want me to name you my Hand? I will. But in return, you shall keep your mouth shut.â
âYou are in no position to tell me what to do, my prince,â Larys calms down a bit, knowing the plan he and you have made has been done perfectly, âyou will make me your Hand, and you will marry my daughter in a fortnight.â
âNot acceptable! We will lose Baratheonsâ support!â Aemond shoves Larys back on his seat before he starts pacing, âYou are my Hand from now on, and I will arrange a good match for your daughter.â
âNo, she will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, or I will taint your reputation the way you have done to my daughter.âÂ
Rest assured, Larys Strongâs only child married the former Prince Regent and now the King in a fortnight with a lavish feast thrown for her.
#aemond targaryen#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#aemond x you#prince regent aemond#rue:smut#rue:darkcontent#aemond x dark!reader#hotd x you#hotd smut
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Rain On The Way Home
Zayne takes you home after an argument between the two of you.
ŕ˛. Zayne x Reader/MC
ŕ˛. Tags & warnings: since there's a bit spicy at the end I shall put 16+, MDNI here, fluff, short and sweet, kiss and make up, making out, argument, hurt/comfort, established relationship, character might be a bit ooc idk.
ŕ˛. Word count: ~1k9
ŕ˛. Based on a request by YNhi.
ŕ˛. Masterlist ⥠Request a fic
Your lips were pursed tightly. Hands placed on your thighs were clenched so tightly that you could feel the nails digging into your skin. You did your hardest to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, but failed. Warm drops dripped on the back of your hands, and you brushed them away as soon as you noticed a familiar figure approaching from afar.
Zayne opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat. He did not glance at you or say anything. You turned entirely to face the window, observing the soft drizzle fall outside. All you wanted to do was kick the car door open, run out into the rain and scream your lungs out.
The atmosphere between the two of you had never been this stuffy. You could have left alone, but because your body was injured and your emotions were all over the place, you lacked the strength to oppose Zayne's decision. So you let him do anything he wanted. Perhaps that was best for both.
Just a second ago, you fought to reject him and ended up sitting here with bitterness in your heart, allowing him to take you home, allowing him to control you like a puppet again.
The third time you had been hospitalized in one short month, you had also reached Zayne's limit.
People at the hospital claimed that when Dr. Zayne was upset, he became quite frightening. They thought he would explode and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way would suffer. On the contrary, Zayne's rage was like a blizzard on the horizon. You might believe it would not find you, but when it did, no matter where you hid, you would never be secure.Â
And that day, for the first time ever, Doctor Zayne was seen losing his usual composure.
His lengthy and fast steps resembled racing through long and busy corridors. The hospital room door opened in such a way that it was about to come off its hinges. Zayne's face solidified. Without a word, he confiscated your medical documents and commanded everyone to go, in such a frightening manner that the nurse caring for you had to shiver from the cold after leaving.
Zayne looked at the documents and then at the wound on your shoulder. It was treated in time but remained painful. The injury had left you quite weak, but after nearly a day of medical care, what distressed you the most was Zayne's attitude.
Before he could say anything, you spoke up and explained:
âIt was just an incident⌠It wasn't like I took the initiative to accept this mission. It's just that there were no other Hunters closer to the attack area than I wasâŚâ
âThat's why, despite the fact that you hadn't completely recovered and were resting, you hurried to the scene, dismissing your prior injuries. Dismissing your doctor's orders?"
One corner of the file in Zayne's hand was so tight that it became wrinkled when he let go and threw it hard on the nearby table. He turned his back on you and looked out the window. One hand on his hip, the other hand to bury his face. He acted as if he was trying his best to retain the last bit of composure.Â
"I'm fine." You said. "I honestly felt no discomfort. I have been able to move properly for a week now. Staying at home constantly is boring. I needed to stretch a little so I could get back to work quickly."
Zayne slowly turned around to look at you. He was still standing in the corner of the room, and you noticed the window glass behind him starting to freeze.Â
âYou were bored? If you feel bored, call your friends. If you feel bored, go shopping or hang out where you like to go. You were bored so you decided to jump right into a group of Wanderers?"
âZayneâŚâ You grimaced. âI don't like you this way⌠You⌠are acting so strangeâŚâ
âDo you think I'd like to see you lying here? Do you think I'd like to see you being carried to the hospital?"
"I'm sorryâŚ" You murmured. You knew it was you to blame for not listening to him and instead running to the scene of the attack. But you were conscious of your own strength and wanted to fulfill the commitment you made when you decided to become a Hunter.
"You've said sorry for the third time this month." Zayne responded. His face was rigid, yet his fists were clasped firmly. "I've heard enough."
"Oh, just quit it!" You abruptly raised your voice. "I told you I didn't like you acting this way. As a Hunter, it's normal for me to get hurt!"
Zayne opened his eyes wide. He was astonished by your response. He stayed silent so you could pour out your feelings.
âI am capable of taking care of myself! I don't like being told what to eat or drink. I don't like being told what time I must go to bed. Or being compelled to stay at home even though I have completely recovered and ready to battle! I'm not a child for you to order around, or tell me to do this and that!â
âYou're saying, I'm too controlling over you?â
âIâŚâ You halted. It seemed that was true. Even while you knew Zayne had good intentions and genuinely cared for you, you were unable to avoid feeling as if he was in charge of every part of your life, controlling every meal and sleep.Â
"Understood."
Silence permeated the hospital room for a long moment. Zayne gazed at you as if he was considering something, then he started to pack up your clothes and belongings that remained in the room.
âWhat are you doing?âÂ
Zayne responded: âI don't want to be the one who controls you. You will be discharged from the hospital and free to do as you please.â
âWhat do you mean by that?â Free? It sounded like he did not care about you anymore. It sounded like he was going to give you your freedom back by not getting involved in anything related to you anymore.
âI will not force you to stay here. No one can do that. In roughly ten minutes, someone will come and take you to my car. I only ask you to do this for me once more.â
Having said that, Zayne turned and left. The door closed behind his broad back and you swore you were about to cry right from that moment.
The nurse came to inform you that Dr. Zayne had directly requested your discharge from the hospital. They let you go since your situation was not too serious and they believed Zayne would care for you discreetly at home. Zayne waited for you in the parking lot. He unlocked the door for you to enter first and returned to fetch a few more medical supplies before driving you home. Â
All along the way, you kept wondering if you had made a big mistake. You were exceptionally disrespectful and became frustrated with Zayne for no reason. However, he did not give in to you as he always did. Confused, you simply wanted to lie down on your pleasant mattress at home and weep loudly. However, as the car came to a halt in front of your flat, Zayne refused to let you get out.
You turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and miserable. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then your eyes met for a moment. You were the first to break that connection.
"I'm home now. Can I leave yet? Or do I still have to wait for your permission?"
"Just stay a little more." Zayne's deep voice rang out. He was considerably more relaxed now than he had been previously. "I'm sorryâŚ"
That was the first time you had heard an apology from him. How strange! Usually, you were the one making trouble, and Zayne was the one who looked after you. You were the one who said sorry. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel so odd.
âI'm sorry if I become too controlling and that makes you feel uncomfortable.â
You were astonished for a second. You still wanted to weep, but your emotions had settled down considerably.
Zayne slipped his hand down from the steering wheel to seize yours and turned it over. He said:
âWhen I saw you almost unconscious from the poison, being carried into the hospital room, my heart seemed to stop beating. That is not something I want to see at all.â
Zayne's eyes were quite sorrowful. You subconsciously imagined that if you switched roles and the injured person was him, you definitely would not be able to remain calm in such a situation.
âI know you can take care of yourself,â Zayne continued. âBut I still want to help you do that and protect you. In my own way.â
After he finished speaking, there was a moment of calmness. The street lights were illuminated, and the rain stopped pouring. You softly clutched his hand.
âI'm sorry too, because what I said was not true⌠I didn't mean to call you a dictator who controls this relationshipâŚâ
You smiled at him. The corners of Zayne's lips also loosened somewhat. He took your hand and tenderly pressed a kiss on.
âI'm really okay.â You added. âThe doctor also said that the poison from the Wanderers had been purified. I don't feel too much pain anymore."
Zayne gave a slight nod. He understood this from the moment he read your record. That was why he boldly asked for you to be discharged from the hospital. Even though he was upset, your safety would come first in any case.
"You said you were fine?" Zayne inquired out of the blue. "How do you prove it then?"
You exhaled. After all, he still had reservations about your ability to care for yourself. You leaned in to offer him a passionate kiss. The resentment in your heart melted away in his warmth.
As your lips withdrew from Zayne's, he whispered:
"Good enough. However, in the future, if there is an issue between us, or if you are dissatisfied with something I do,... can I trust you to talk to me directly about it?"
You gave a modest nod. Zayne kissed you, deep. He caressed you but only so gently, as if afraid that you would melt into rain bubbles if he became too greedy. A while later, perhaps since your head was hazy from the injury, you had no clue how you ended up sitting on top of Zayne in the driver's seat, your lips locked with him while your hands constantly touching his flesh underneath the shirt. His delicate but searing kisses fell on your shoulder, around the bandaged area that had just been revealed to his sight as he pulled your shirt down. He kissed your wounds, new and old. He asked softly, would you feel pain if he touched them? And you replied that there was only pain if he did not do so.
Rain began pouring again; it might last all night long. How convenient, since he did not intend to let you get out of the car in such a condition.
#love and deepspace#fanfic#fanfiction#love and deepspace fanfic#zayne#rei#li shen#zayne love and deepspace#lads#lnds#l&ds#lads fanfic#lnds zayne#lads zayne#l&ds zayne#zayne x mc#zayne x you#zayne x reader#zayne lads#love and deepspace x reader#lnds x reader#lads x reader#lads x you#l&ds x reader#heart hunters series#banners and dividers by me
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Sleepless Nights
Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader
Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.
Wordcount: 2.3k
Warnings:
soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.
Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth heâs fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thingâfinding his pregnant wife.
The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomasâs polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.
As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomasâs eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.
Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. Sheâs nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. Sheâs wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.
âLove,â Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. âYâalright there?â His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.
She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. âTommy,â she replies, a small smile curving her lips. âJust needed a moment. The babyâs been restless tonight.â
Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. Itâs a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.
âBeen lookinâ for you,â he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. âWorried me, yâknow.â
She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. âIâm fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.â
Thomasâs eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. âYâshould rest more, love. Donât want you overexertinâ yâself.â His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.
She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. âI know. Itâs just... thereâs so much to do. So much to prepare for.â
Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. âLeave it to me. Iâll handle everythinâ. You just focus on our little one, yeah?â
He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.
She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."
But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.
âTommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.â
Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."
He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.
"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.
She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."
He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.
"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."
She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."
He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."
They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.
âLove,â he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. âYouâre the most beautiful thing Iâve ever seen.â The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.
She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. Itâs not just a kiss; itâs a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.
His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
âYouâve got to know,â he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, âIâd do anything for you. Anythinâ to keep you safe.â His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.
Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.
The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.
His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.
Thomasâs worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different â the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.
The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house â warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.
A soft chuckle escaped Thomasâs lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.
She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.
He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"
She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."
Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, itâs nothing I canât handle."
He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Donât try to be too strong on your own."
She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."
They both stood there looking at each other.
"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.
She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."
He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. Iâve got a meeting later, but Iâll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."
She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "Iâd like that."
Authorâs Notes:
Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune
#cillian murphy#cillian fanfic#cillian fic#cillian x fem!reader#cillian x reader#cillian x y/n#cillian oneshots#cillian series#cillian fluff#cillian smut#cilliangifs#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky fucking blinders#peaky fookin blinders#thomas shelby#thomas x reader#arthur shelby#john shelby#finn shelby#polly gray#micheal gray#ada shelby#inception#robert fischer#the dark knight trilogy#jonathan x reader#dr. crane#fear toxin#fanfic
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P.S.T EP. 12 | Love Language ft Ningning.
length: 12k wordsâŚ
Ningning & Male Reader
Special Guest: ITZY
genres: oral sex, dirty talk, ass eating, facetime sex, squirt, footjob, lesbian, butt play, sneaky blowjob/handjob, bit fluffy
âŚâ§âŚâ§âŚâ§
âŚâ§âŚâ§âŚâ§
Once again, the Miami morning sun filtered through the balcony window and filled your room with light. The shine was annoying on your eyes, but it was the perfect natural wake-up call for you to open them and look at the beautiful angel lying next to you.
Yoo Jimin was pure natural and ethereal beauty. You had read multiple times on different social networks that she looked like she was made by computer, and you had never understood those comments as much as you did at that moment when you saw her peacefully sleeping. You moved as subtly as you could to lean on one elbow and brush a strand of hair away from her temple. You brought two of your knuckles close to her cheek and rubbed it slowly; she shifted slightly, and grabbed you by your wrist so you could cradle that side of her face with your hand. You couldn't help but smile. She clung to your hand as if it were a teddy bear.
Of course the cute moment couldn't last too long. The doorbell of the suite and multiple messages on your phone snapped you out of your trance. You frowned, since it was fucking 7 in the morning. While you were reading the messages the doorbell rang a couple more times.
When you finished reading the messages you lowered the phone and found that Jimin was already beginning to open her eyes. She had the same annoyed expression as you as she rubbed her eyes.
"Well, I have to assume the deal between you two is over," you told her with a sigh.
You got out of bed, turned off the air conditioning, and reluctantly put on some boxers. You left the bedroom and walked through the corridors of the suite. The doorbell continued ringing, and you quickened your pace so that it would shut up once and for all. When you reached the door and opened it, all the girls except Noze began to enter the suite like raiders. Minjeong and Aeri passed you by without even saying hello, but when Ning did she hugged you around the waist and kissed your cheek to join the other two.
"Mother of God! This place is huge!" you heard Aeri say from behind you.
"I want to stay in a place like this too!" Minjeong protested as well. Ningning didn't say anything.
"Weren't there more subtle ways to wake me up?" you asked, looking Noze in the eyes. She didn't seem to care at all, "How annoying, damn."
"Aha whatever," she waved her hand and walked past you. You closed the door with a huff, "Today's breakfast and meeting will be here."
Just then Jimin also came out, wearing nothing but panties. She was still sleepy and her hair was a mess. She stood looking towards the balcony with a frown. Minjeong was looking at figurines on a shelf, Aeri was next to the coffee table, and Ningning was sitting on the couch. You could see in her face that she wanted to lie down and sleep too.
"Oh, can we all have breakfast naked then?" Aeri teased with a giggle, looking at Jimin.
"Go get dressed before room service arrives," Noze ordered, with a sternness that let you know she was in no mood for jokes.
You and Jimin went back into the bedroom and while you were in there you agreed to take longer on purpose. How did you do it? She gave you a quick blowjob, made you cum inside her mouth, and right after that was when you really started getting dressed. You came out and all of them were already settled at the table on the balcony. You took the free seats. Jimin to your left, Noze to the right.
That particular morning it felt like you were in hell itself. You didn't know how many degrees it was, but the sun stung your skin. You thanked god it wasn't right above your head, otherwise you would have been roasted alive. Luckily, the sea breeze counteracted the heat a little and kept you cool.
Noze began to detail all the activities scheduled for that day. You were all paying as much attention as you could, but it was evident on your faces that none of you had rested well enough to be fully operational at that time of the morning. As soon as she finished, seconds later room service arrived.
"Well? How were those nights?" Minjeong asked you, sitting next to Jimin, "I think I deserve to know the details, right?"
The hotel workers placed plate after plate on the table, which soon began to fill with food of all kinds. That made you remember the breakfast Jimin had made you eat the day before, and you had Vietnam flashbacks. Your gaze was lost looking at some boiled eggs with vegetables.
"We just bro'ed out, ate pizza and played video games," Jimin replied with a mischievous smile, "Nothing exciting, Minjeong-ah."
"Hey, hurry up and eat. It's getting late," Noze interrupted you.
"Mother of God, late for what," you said, wrinkling your forehead, "Not even the roosters have woken up at this point."
Noze glared at you, but the rest of the girls laughed at your joke. You, however, didn't find it so funny, you still felt exhausted from the day before and what you were saying was a real complaint. All of you finished your breakfast in a matter of about ten minutes. This time you didn't eat much; it was enough for you with some egg and cheese toast, and some cereal bars.
"Girls, go to the lobby with the rest of the staff so they can take you to the venue. They are already waiting for you," Noze told the girls.
All the girls obediently wiped their mouths with napkins and stood up. Jimin said goodbye to you with a couple of pats on the cheek. Ning gave you a kiss on the cheek again, along with a light caress on your chin. You could feel yourself almost melting at her soft touch, but you hid it as best you could.
"Did you have fun with Jiminie?" Noze asked you once all the girls left.
"Sex with her is fucking amazing, I'm not going to lie. But the best thing of all was feeling like she was just another good friend... I mean, I got to know her a lot better, and that was very valuable to me."
"Yeah," she nodded, looking out toward the open sea, "it probably doesn't show much on the outside but she's a very down-to-earth girl."
"You and her get along well, don't you?"
"She's the leader of the group I manage, silly, I have to get along with her anyway. But you're not wrong, she and I have formed a special bond over time."
âUmâŚâ Noze knew what you were thinking, she laughed and tapped you on the forehead with her middle finger.
"I don't like her, idiot. And she doesn't like me either. In fact, she's told me more than once that she's not interested in girls, not in a romantic way at least."
"I imagine so. Dating restrictions only lead to them fucking each other."
"Mhum. But that can get out of control sometimes, that's why I have to keep them in line."
"And I'm the tool to do it huh?"
"Mmm, kind of, but you're not just a tool anymore. Those girls really like you, so it's up to you not to let them down."
"I have no plans to do so either."
"Cool,â she turned her gaze to you again, "Now, you have work to do."
"Which paparazzi needs to have their teeth broken?"
"All of them, but that's not what I want you to do. I need you to collect all the girls' luggage and leave them ready for the hotel check out."
"Oh, piece of cake."
"However, I have bad news for you," she said as you made a move to get up from the chair. You sat down again.
"What's the matter?"
"This morning my days of the month started. You don't need to be very smart to know what I mean. And I know the girls well enough to know that theirs is coming too."
"Oh, okay, but what's up with that?"
"Nothing. I just apologize in advance for any behavior you may have to bear over the next few days. Not just theirs."
"Nah, no need. I think I'm pretty tolerant."
"Alright," she nodded and stood up. You did too, "Oh, one more thing. After tonight's concert we're taking a bus to Atlanta. I booked a nice spacious one just for the six of us."
"Damn, that sounds great," you and her left the balcony and walked into the suite.
"Yup, we'll have a three-day break between tonight's concert and the next one. So if you want some time to yourself and grab some souvenirs, thatâs your chance."
"Oh, great. Yuna will start crying if I don't bring her something," you let out a sigh, "Well, I have work to do, if you'll excuse me."
"Go ahead, and good luck. Who knows what you might encounter in those rooms," Noze turned around with a laugh and left the suite.
Of course you started with your and Jimin's luggage. There weren't many clothes scattered around the room, you had been as organized as possible and everything was perfectly in order. You just had to make the bed, leave everything as you found it when you first entered and get to work with the other rooms. You already had an order that you would follow, and since you knew Minjeong and what she was capable of, you decided to leave her room as the last one just so you could be mentally prepared for what you would find there.
You started in Aeri's room. It was frankly a disaster. There were clothes of all kinds everywhere: blouses, sweaters, pants and panties. The main place of concentration was around the bed. You picked up each piece of clothing and folded it as best you could to put it in the suitcases that weren't even completely unpacked. It was evident that with each passing day she only took out what she needed and survived that way. It didn't take you too long to gather her things and leave everything neatly packed.
Ning's room followed. Just as you expected, that room looked as if no one had used it in weeks. Everything was perfectly organized and clean. Ning's suitcases were neatly packed and organized at the foot of the bed. You noticed there was a small note on top of one of them. You went to pick it up and read it.
'Thank you for taking such good care of me, darling.
Love, Ning.'
You smiled from ear to ear, folding the note to put it in the back pocket of your pants. You made a mental note to spend more time with her over the next few days so you could thank her for making your job so easy. She was certainly a being of light who deserved all the love in the world.
The joy didn't last too long. The next room was Minjeong's, and you couldn't put it off much longer.
You were mentally preparedâor so you thoughtâ, but as soon as you opened the door, what your eyes saw left you perplexed. There was a very stark dichotomy in the room, almost as if it had been cut in two and each half had been used by a different person. The suitcases were well organized and her bed was half made, which was appreciated. But the other side was an exaggerated conglomeration of sex toys of all kinds: dildos of all colors and sizes, vibrators, handcuffsâyou had no idea she had anyâ, and even a pair of anal plugs that you didn't expect she had.
You stared at the sexual objects for a few long seconds without really knowing how to act or what to do. Hundreds of dirty thoughts ran through your head. One of them was Minjeong with her wrists handcuffed behind her back being fucked in her ass. Another was her sucking you off while she had one of those butt plugs buried in her ass.
You quickly came back to reality and set about gathering all the things the best way you could. Looking back you noticed an empty bag, you immediately assumed it was the bag she had dedicated entirely to her toys. You took it, put it on the bed and started putting things there. While you were doing it, you were surprised that one of the plugs was still warm and with a light layer of lubricant on top.
"This girl..." you murmured in disbelief, holding the plug by the edge so as not to stain yourself.
However, this was not the only thing. One of the dildos was also warm and wet with what you knew were Minjeong's fluids. You cursed her in your head. She had done it entirely on purpose knowing that you were going to collect the luggage.
As you put the dildo away, just like there was a camera in the room or something, you received a message from Minjeong.
You didn't even bother to answer, you just grabbed both toys to clean them in the bathroom and put them away with the rest of the things. With all the things ready, you prepared to make your way to the lobby, still with Minjeong's dirty thoughts running through your head non-stop. You had to make a little mental effort to get that out of your head. You thought about Noze looking at you with a look like she wanted to kill you, but that only made it worse. So you imagined your high school math teacher in a bikini. That was it.
When you arrived at the lobby you had to ask a couple of staff members for help to fetch a few suitcases that you left behind since you didn't have enough arms to carry them all, but soon everything was ready for check out.
With everything ready to go you had the girls' luggage begin to be loaded onto the big bus that Noze had booked. It looked like one of those buses that soccer teams used to go from one city to another, spacious, nice and modern.
You still had some free time to go to the venue, and remembering that the days of girls' month were approaching, you decided to run to the nearest store to buy them some things. You put your deepest feminine instinct into practice to figure out what to buy; in the end you decided on chocolates of all kinds, snacks, gummies, small soft stuffed animals and last but not least, pain pillsâyou had to ask the woman at the pharmacy which ones were suitable for menstrual cramps.
When you bought everything and went to the venue with the bags in your hands, you found that everything was absolute chaos. You rushed into the middle of the commotion to help with whatever you were useful for, and in the blink of an eye, the next thing you knew, there was a crowd outside eager to see their favorite girl group. The girls were ready to go on stage.
From that backstage area you could perfectly see the audience from the darkness, where the spotlights did not shine. You dedicated yourself to seeing as many people as you could, all of them with an emotion that oozed out of their pores. At that moment you thought about how truly blessed you were to be able to enjoy each concert from that position, and above all, because of the good relationship you had with each of them.
The days went by and you watched each concert until the end, but it never ceased to amaze you how Noze had everything running like a perfectly adjusted clock. The logistics were impeccable in every sense of the word. The costume changes were smooth; every emerging need of the girls was met almost immediately; the lighting never failed, and the sound was incredibly well mixed.
The concert came to an end, and soon everything began to be dismantled. You, Noze and the girls met backstage.
"Damn fucking mother Nature," you heard Aeri say to your left, with English and tone worthy of Mean Girls.
âI'm too bloated, oh my god,â Ning complained, pointing a portable fan at herself, âPlease tell me I still looked pretty,â she asked you.
"You always look pretty baby, now go drink some water, please."
"I'm going to fucking explode," Minjeong growled, going to sit in a chair. Jimin sat next to her.
"Hey, at least it's not the worst that could have happened," you said.
"And what do you think is the worst that could have happened, genius?" Noze said, passing by you.
"I don't know, a space kitty invader could have come and devastated the venue. Come on, cheer up. Soon you'll be able to sleep comfortably."
Your words were intended to perhaps lift their spirits a little, and it seemed to work at least a little. Everyone's faces lit up and they looked at you with little smirks.
"He's right," Noze said, "All we have to do is get on that bus and sleep until we get to Atlanta."
"That sounds like a dream to me," Jimin sighed, "let's hurry up and get out of here."
For the next few minutes you dedicated yourself to being as helpful as possible so that the girls didn't have to do too much before getting on the bus. Once inside, everyone took advantage of the tinted windows to start changing into baggy and comfortable clothes. You did it too. You put on an adidas sports outfit; black tracksuit jacket and sweatpants along with your sliders.
"Girls! I have some gifts for you," you announced, taking the bags that until now no one had wondered what they were.
"A magic pill that will automatically eliminate the menstrual process from our body?" Jimin asked.
"I'm still working on it, I ask for patience."
You went through the seats and began to distribute everything you had bought. All of the girls had wide smiles forming on their faces. You distributed everything evenly, leaving some chocolates and snacks for yourself.
"Oh my god thank youuu!" Aeri squealed with excitement, grabbing her unicorn stuffed animal and hugging it. Jimin had a whale, Minjeong a Siberian husky, Ning a tiger, and Noze had a clown fish.
"This is so cute I might throw up," Minjeong joked with an adorable smile.
"Just wait for you to sit here. I'm going to kiss you like you've never been kissed before," Ning said from one of the wide sofa-like seats.
"Noze didn't pay you for this right?" Jimin laughed, opening a twix chocolate with her whale hugged to her body.
"As incredible as it may seem, no, I didn't," Noze replied, also with a little smile of disbelief.
The bus finally started, and everyone started eating many of the things you gave them. You had gone to sit with Ning, and just as she had promised, as soon as you sat next to her she wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed you multiple times on the lips and all over your face.
"You're so sweet," kiss, "and adorable," kiss, "and loving," kiss, "and wonderful."
She cupped both hands on either side of your face and looked at you with bright eyes. You were going to kiss her again until Aeri opened her mouth.
"Hey, I'm sorry to ruin your romantic moment," she apologized, "but can you come and massage my back and feet? Pleaaaase?"
"Fuck, I can't say no to that. Can I too?" Ning asked.
"Me too?" Jimin asked. Minjeong repeated the question. Surprisingly Noze too.
You had no choice but to agree to their requests. You went to Aeri's seat and started warming up your fingers before you started. Your specialty was doing massages, and this time you would do the routine you always did to loosen the muscles. Aeri melted into your hands, letting out long sighs of relief and taking deep breaths that you took as good signs; she even pulled up her baggy sweater so you had better access to her back muscles, which was really helpful. When you finished with her back, you knelt in front of her to repeat the process with her feet, which you noticed were incredibly tense and swollen.
As soon as you finished your work with Aeri you signaled Ning and Noze to have one of them come over since Minjeong and Jimin had fallen asleep before their turn. It was Ning who reached you first. You tried to work as quickly as you could, while still treating the two girls in the best way possible so that they could have a pleasant rest.
When the massages were done, you, Noze and Ning went to the sofa at the back of the bus where she was sitting. The space was very cozy, and it was an area of the busâwhich in itself already seemed like a small apartmentâ where the air conditioning was colder and more pleasant. As soon as you placed your butt back on the padded surface you sighed and finally settled down to look at the layout of your surroundings. To your right was a corner sofa with a dining table. To your left, a small desk with an artificial campfire. In front you had a couple more seats, one on each side of a small table with a lamp and a television attached to the wall.
"Have you ever seen No Strings Attached?" you asked the girls.
They were huddled against you, Ning on your right and Noze on your left. Both hugged in your arms. They both shook their heads.
"Well, it will be your first time then."
You grabbed the TV remote and went to Netflix to find the movie. The three of you started watching the movie, but halfway through, Ning fell asleep. You noticed it from her adorable, subtle snores that filled your heart with tenderness. That left you alone with Noze. Once again.
"She snores like her stuffed animal would, she's so damn adorable," she said in a low, husky voice, followed by a giggle.
"Do you think she liked it?"
You had a hand placed on her thigh. You hadn't done it on purpose, just your hand ended up there, but she didn't say anything about it.
"Are you kidding? I haven't seen girls this excited and happy about something in a long time," she lifted her head from your shoulder to look at you, "It was a very nice gesture on your part, really, thank you."
You also turned your head to look at her. You met a pair of sleepy and somewhat shiny gorgeous eyes, but inevitably your gaze drifted to her full, red lips. She looked inexplicably beautiful like that, with her hair somewhat messy and dressed in that sweater that was twice her size. You were so, so tempted to make a move, but you held back.
"There's nothing to thank me for, it's my way of showing that I really love them."
"Does that include me?"
"Why, are you jealous?"
"No, it's just that you're looking to sleep in a hotel lobby when we get to Atlanta."
You couldn't help but smile. She really was jealous.
"Of course that includes you... Noze? I'm starting to not like calling you that, darling."
"Jihye," she finally said with an adorable smile, "Noh Jihye."
"Oh, so that's where the No in the name comes from."
"Aha, you're very smart, congratulations," she lay back on your shoulder with a giggle, "shut up and let's finish watching the movie, I'm exhausted."
The reality was that the movie hadn't even ended when she fell asleep, so you finished watching it alone. When the credits popped out, you turned off the TV and made yourself comfortable between the two of them, resting your head on Ning's and fell asleep just like that.
--------------------------
You and Aeri woke up when you were passing through Cordele, but the rest of the girls didn't wake up until you were passing through Macon. Another hour passed when you finally arrived in Atlanta, straight towards your destination: the Ritz-Carlton hotel, a small but wide building in the middle of the city.
"Alright girls, you have a few days off to relax. Enjoy it," Noze announced as you arrived at the hotel lobby, which was honestly the most impressive to you yet.
"You still owe me a massage, don't forget," Jimin told you, she was walking in front of you.
"Aha, sure thing," you nodded, looking at the enormous heptagon of warm lights above your heads. The spacious reception in front of you.
"Hey, I'd like to have a few drinks with you one of these nights, are you up?" Noze told you, standing to your left.
"You don't even have to ask me. You know the answer."
She smiled and walked towards the reception as she watched you.
"Cool," she winked at you and prepared to say a few words to the receptionist, "Oh, and for the record!" She turned around to see you all, "You have free rein to do whatever you want, but if you are going to leave the hotel make sure you communicate it through the appropriate channels. Me, basically."
You stood waiting for a few minutes while Noze got you all the cards. As you did so, you all took the wide stairs that led to the first floor. That's where the elevators and the real hotel started, and also where you all parted ways to go to your rooms.
Your room was spacious and with good views of the rest of the city. The first thing you saw when you entered was the queen size bed with white sheets and pillows, and another long pillow but gray with white prints in the middle of them. In front of the bed there was a chest of drawers with dark varnished wood on the top and champagne-colored melamine on the drawers; two large ones on each side and four small ones in the middle. On the wall behind the dresser was the television, and to the left of it was also a small dark desk with a dark brown plastic chair. Finally, at the back of the room, right in front of the window, there was a large dark silver alcantara sofa with a small circular high table in front of it.
The first thing you did when you entered was take off your shoes and start unpacking all the things you knew you would use during those three days. After putting everything in the dresser and leaving your laptop and phone on top, you went directly to the bathroom to take a necessarily long shower. You came out again with the towel around your waist and went to check on your phone, finding that you had a message to read.
It was Lia. And when you read her name, a huge feeling of guilt attacked you for not having been able to pay attention to them. You immediately responded to her.
After having responded to Lia you decided to also write to the rest of the girlsâall while you were in a towel in front of the widely open curtains where anyone from the building across the street could see you.
Of course, the first was Chaery.
Once you sent all the corresponding messages, you got dressed, turned on the air conditioning and went to close the curtains in the room. Then you grabbed your laptop from the top of the dresser and made yourself comfortable on the couch. You started watching Haikyuu, an anime that you wanted to start for a while but hadn't had time to. A couple of hours passed when you remembered that Rina still wanted that massage, so you picked up your phone and texted her.
When you received confirmation from her you closed your laptop, put your phone in the pocket of your sweatpants and went straight to Jimin's room. The door was open, and when you put your hand on the knob and opened it you found Jimin already lying face down on her hands. She was completely topless, but she was still wearing short sports shorts. You also noticed that her room was exactly the same as yours, only she had a view of the city that had the Oconee National Forest in the background.
"Straight to the point huh?" You teased with a chuckle, closing the door behind you.
"Kinda," she sighed, "my back is killing me."
"I think I have a solution for that."
You took your phone out of your pocket and climbed onto the bed with her to put it aside. Then you straddled her butt and did the same finger warm-up you always did.
"Fuck, you're heavy you know?" she complained.
"Do you want the massage or not, crybaby?" you rubbed your hands together quickly to warm them up and then placed them on her bare shoulder blades.
She was going to answer you, but she could only let out a sigh of relief as you started your work. Just like the rest of the girls, Rina had very tense muscles. You immediately felt empathy for her. Concert after concert doing the same show without proper breaks between them was certainly something that took its toll in the long run, and they had the bad luck that it just happened to coincide with their days of the month.
"What are you planning to do these days?" she asked you softly. She had her eyes closed.
"I have to catch up with Itzy's girls, I feel like an idiot," you sighed, massaging her lower back, "I'm also going out with Jihye for drinks, but I don't know when."
"Jihye?" She giggled, "So she told you her real name huh? You're one step closer to the wedding at this point."
"You're not funny you know?"
"I'm the funniest person you know."
"I don't know that many people, Rina," you moved back to her shoulders.
"That's already an achievement then. You like her right?"
You took more time to answer that question than you'd like.
"No," no matter how confident you sounded, you couldn't help but think you were lying to yourself.
"But you like Ning right?"
"Are you a detective now or what?"
"It's a basic question, are you afraid to answer it?"
"No, but I don't know what this interrogation is about."
"I'm just curious. Come on, tell me."
"I'm one damn step away from being crazy about her. And it's a fine line."
"Aw, that's adorable."
"It's not, I feel like an idiot every time she does something sweet for me or every time she talks to me like⌠god."
"Buddy, you're crazy about her."
"Please shut up," you said heavily. Rina could only laugh. But you weren't as cool about it as she might think. Chaery was still in your head, and with her were the words you said to her before the tour. At that moment you hated being a man.
"I mean, I don't blame you. She's a princess in every way possible."
"It is, but please let's stop talking about my love life. What do you have planned?" you finally moved to her feet.
"Oh, we have a girls' night planned today. Here, actually."
"Aren't you planning to go sightseeing?"
"I saw that there is a very nice botanical garden, it would be a nice place to go."
"There's also a zoo tho, and an aquarium."
"Right! That would be cool."
"I can go with you if you want, but let me see how the next few days go."
"That sounds like a date to me."
"We can go with one of the girls then, comedian girl."
"I wasn't complaining," she let out a small whimper when you pressed close to her thumb, but it was natural, "Hey, you said you felt like an idiot about Itzy's girls, why?"
"Because I've been neglecting them these days, and it feels bad because I know how much they appreciate me."
"Dude, you've done a wonderful job taking care of us. Besides, I know Yeji unnie well, she knows very well how demanding a tour is. She won't be upset with you."
"I hope so. I would feel terrible if she was," you now moved to the other foot. Another whine from Jimin.
"Well, if she gives you a hard time about that I can take care of her if you want," she said with a joking tone. You chuckled.
"Yeah, I'd appreciate it. By the way, give me details about the girls' night, I'm curious about it."
"Oh, nothing special. We'll just order junk food, watch a few movies, and talk about boys."
"Boys?" you laughed, âWhat boys, Yoo Jimin, you should lie better.â
"During these days of the month I become a little more girly, you know. And I think it would be rude to say that we are going to be talking about you."
"Wow, that's certainly reassuring."
"It won't be anything bad, don't worry. You've done nothing but be a wonderful guy for us."
"Just let me know if you need anything, okay?" With that said you released her foot to finish the massage.
"Yeah, I will," she answered you with a little smile, finally opening her eyes to see you, "Thank you for the massage, I feel much better."
"I'm glad to hear that, don't thank me. I'll see you later, Rina," you leaned forward, giving her a peck on the forehead and another on the cheek before standing up.
As soon as you left her room you checked your phone, finding that all the girls had already responded to you. It made you happy to see all their personalities captured in each word. You began to walk the corridor slowly while reading the messages from Chaery, who you started chatting with.
When you finished talking to Chaery you were already inside the elevator going to the floor of your room. Then you read the other messages, starting with Lia.
You weren't surprised by the fact that Ryujin responded with a photo as well. She was lying on her side, legs drawn up as she held a wet dildo. A butt plug buried in her ass too. Just then the elevator door opened as it stopped a couple of floors before yours, and an elderly couple entered. You quickly had to lock the screen.
"Good afternoon," you greeted politely, playing dumb, with a smile and a small bow.
"Good afternoon dear," smiled the good-natured granny. Grandpa only gave you a smirk and raised his eyebrows.
You had to wait until you were alone on your corresponding floor before re-entering the chat.
Next was Yuna, who as expected had more energy than all of you and Itzy's girls combined.
When you were going to read Yeji's messages, you were already in front of your room. You opened the door, walked in and lay face up on your bed to answer her.
Finishing talking to all of them and having arranged to have a video call did nothing but fill your heart with joy and relief. You had finally taken a burden off your shoulders, but they were not that burden, but rather the emotional weight you had for not having been as attentive to them as you promised before you left.
Just as you were going to get out of bed to go watch a couple more episodes of Haikyuu before going to eat, you received more messages, but they were from Noze.
Had she really used a heart in a message to you? That was certainly new.
This time you did put the phone down and got out of bed to go change your outfit, which was really fucking difficult considering you had no idea what kind of occasion this was. But in the end, the solution was always to do something in the middle. Not looking like a bum but not like James Bond about to go on a mission either. Your choice this time was a black Columbia sweatshirt, and a black jacket with a beige hood on top; also some gray wide-leg jeans and your Air Force 1 07 LV8 in its champagne color variation.
Once prepared, you grabbed all your things and left your room, locked it and prepared to leave the hotel to look for a restaurant to eat nearby. You could have just asked for a car to drive yourself, but you wanted to walk the streets of a city you had never visited before. In your search you came across a place called Cuts Steakhouse, and the name alone convinced you.
You sat at one of the tables to order the food, and while you waited for it you looked for nearby bars. Looking through Google Maps you found one that was perfect for the occasion, it was quite nice and not too far from your current location, so after finishing your pork ribs with barbecue and your grilled salmon with ponzu, you went straight there.
Upon entering the large establishment you were relieved to see that there were not too many people there, which was normal considering that it was a weekday and that many people must be at home resting from work. Naturally the first thing you did was go sit at the bar, which formed a wide rectangle around a main island where the shelves, all the bottles and the televisions were.
One of the bartenders offered to serve you, and while you waited for Noze's message you just ordered a beer. The aforementioned message arrived when you were already a little more than halfway through the beer. You immediately gave her her address, and were impressed by the speed at which she arrived. You remembered what she had ordered the last time you had drinks together, so there was her Rusty Nail next to your half-finished beer.
"Hiii theeeere!" She greeted with a smile as she walked towards you. Once again, she impressed you with her beauty.
Black and white knitted sweater, short black skirt and high leather boots. She also sported pretty, freshly cut bangs, and simple makeup whose main attraction was scarlet lips. You were screwed. It was like she had read your mind when you had that little moment on the bus.
"Hello beautiful," you smiled as she sat down next to you, "You look amazing."
"Do you like it?" She asked with a small twinkle in her eye as she looked at her outfit and then she looked at you.
"Oh yeah, that sweater is beautiful. And damn, so are you, why lie."
"You look really cute too, why lie," she examined you up and down with a sly smile and then looked at the drink you had ordered, "Oh my god! I can't believe you remembered!"
"You never forget the initial shock of seeing a girl order Scotch whiskey," you replied as she took a swig of her drink. You also drank your beer.
"You say that like I'm a savage," she laughed.
"Honey, you look like extremely expensive wine."
"Is that a compliment?" she raised her eyebrows, taking another sip of the drink.
"It is if you want it to be," you shrugged and finally finished your beer, "Yo, brother! Pour me a Black Orchid, please."
"Wow, how enigmatic. Now you're the riddle?"
"No, but it would be fun to make you look for a Rata Alada so you can get into your room today."
You rarely made her truly laugh, and this was one of those times. You smiled as you looked at her.
"You know, I didn't expect you to have that drink with me today," the bartender returned with your drink. You thanked him with a nod and a smile.
"Why not?" she took a sip.
"I don't know, I thought you'd be at girls' night," you tried your drink and wrinkled your forehead a little at the taste, but it was delicious.
"Oh, yes I was invited," she finally set the glass down on the bar and leaned her elbow on it, "But I think there are certain boundaries that need to be respected, you know? A certain level of... uhm, separation, yeah."
"Those boundaries are definitely like the chains in an NFL game, right?" you teased, taking another sip of your drink, "Considering what happened with Rina and Minjeongie a couple days ago."
"That's just sex, it's of no consequence," she looked away with a nonchalant wave of her hand, "Now, a girls' night is much more intimate. You wouldn't understand, you have a cock."
"Nah, I think I understand you. And I have a cock," you pointed out.
Just like her, you left your glass on the bar and crossed your arms on top of it. Then, you lifted your butt only to move your stool closer to hers. She looked out of the corner of her eye as you were now practically leg to leg with her, you noticed a hint of a smile.
"And what about me? You don't mind being intimate with me, do you?" You raised an eyebrow as you looked at her.
"I bursted into tears like a little girl in your arms, what do you think that means?" She turned to look at you, and with her gaze still on your eyes she took a sip of the drink.
"That you had a mental breakdown?" She once again burst out laughing, you smiled.
"Yes, that could be too," she nodded, placing the glass back on the bar and looking at you again, "But I'm glad you were there... I felt safe."
You held her gaze for a few long seconds, long enough to leave you in a small trance. Once again those damn pretty lips. You looked at them again and again. And you could have sworn that she saw your lips too, but that must have been a figment of your imagination. Jihye finally blinked faster and came back to reality.
"Well, do you have any idea why I wanted to have drinks with you?" She changed the subject quickly.
"Uh... I honestly have no idea," you took another sip of your drink and looked towards one of the televisions, praying that the blush on your cheeks wouldn't show.
"Look."
She took out her phone and went into her contacts, scrolled for a few seconds and finally showed you the screen. 'Bae Johyun' you read. Then you noticed that the phone number was blurred and then you noticed that it was blocked.
"I finally blocked her. I want to move on with my life," she put the phone away again. You opened your mouth in surprise.
"Oh my god finally!" you cheered with a big smile on your face, "Damn, I'm so proud of you! Come on, let's make a toast to that."
"Cheers!" she said, smiling. You both raised your glasses, clinked them, and took longer sips than usual.
"Does that mean you accept my offer?"
"The one about looking for a hook up during the tour? Yeah, but not right now, that will have to wait a few days."
"It doesn't matter, the important thing is that you took a giant step."
Then you did something that, thinking about it very carefully, you didn't know why the hell you had done it. It was almost like a natural instinct, something you did without thinking about what possible consequences it could have. You leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
Noze froze for a few seconds, but at that moment, thinking that you had done something perfectly normal, you didn't understand why. Then you saw how her cheeks acquired a light red blush. She giggled nervously and brought her hands to her cheeks to cover them.
"Something happens?" You tilted your head.
"Oh? No, no," she giggled, then quickly grabbed her glass from the bar and finished the rest of the drink in one gulp, "Uhm..." she wrinkled her brow, it had been too much.
"I guess you shouldn't have done that," you laughed, sipping patiently from your glass.
"No, definitely not," she blew air into her face with her hands and looked at the bartender, "Give me another one, please," she turned her gaze to you, "Uh⌠what are you planning to do during these next few?" days?"
"The main thing is to catch up with the Itzy girls, that's for sure. But I also want to go shopping, you know, for me and for them."
"Oh, in that case I have something for you."
She took her handbag and took out a small red Chanel wallet. From this she took out a credit card which she handed to you.
"Here. Use it and make sure you get them something nice. It's meant for tourist expenses, so there's practically no limit."
You took the card and examined it for a few seconds. Then you looked at her.
"Woman, how many unlimited monetary funds do you have access to?" you joked with an incredulous laugh. You put the card in your jacket pocket.
"Why? Are you only interested in my money?" She teased, then took a sip of her new drink.
"Well, you have enough mommy potential, why lie."
You made her laugh out loud again, and you smiled like an idiot again. You were starting to feel like this would become a non-sexual pleasure for you.
"Don't say that too loudly, I might get a mother complex and over spoil you."
You couldn't help but think about Lia and laugh about it.
"Then I won't do it. You have enough to take care of four unruly girls."
"Four unruly and horny girls, don't forget that detail."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
You and Jihye drank those couple of drinks and two more rounds. The only thing you did during all that time was have a pleasant conversation full of jokes and topics of recent interest to discuss. Just like you were with Rina, you felt very comfortable around her, just being a couple of good friends who constantly messed with each other. However, there was something else with her, you couldn't identify what, and you didn't want to think about the worst either, but she had an aura that was too stupidly attractive for you. Every thing she did, every expression, every word and every body movement caught your attention and left you captivated.
"Oh shit, it's getting late," you said as you looked at the time on your phone, "Honey, I need to go to the hotel to check on the girls before my video call with ITZY."
"That's fine, baby, let's go. It's also my bedtime."
At that moment you also didn't realize that you were saying 'honey' and 'baby' to each other. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was just the naturalness with which you had been carrying everything for a couple of hours.
"Get away from there, I'll pay for everything, silly."
You obediently put away your phone and took a small step back. She got into that space you left so she could pay. Now her back was almost touching your torso, and you could smell the scent of her hair. It made too much sense to you that it smelled like blackberries. Then you did something else that you didn't think about at all, and that you did out of pure instinct. You placed your hands on her small waist. She didn't seem to care.
"Aight, let's go," she stepped aside and linked her arm with yours, "Thank you, very kind!" she told the bartender, who said goodbye with a wave of his hand.
When you walked outside you realized why Jihye had arrived at the bar so stupidly quickly. Parked waiting for you was a black sedan with tinted windows. The passenger window was down, Jihye crouched down a little to confirm that this was the driver and made you get in.
"Damn, how long has he been waiting here?" you said, climbing into the back seats with her.
"Since I arrived," she laughed, "I paid him for it, don't worry."
When you settled into the car it started heading towards the hotel. During the entire way Jihye never let go of your arm, even though she had all the space in the world to move in the seats. Only there, with your slow man's mind, did you realize that something was happening.
When you arrived you got off and she thanked the driver. Then you entered the lobby and went up to the first floor to take the elevator, which first stopped on Rina's room floor. When the doors opened, you took a step forward and turned to look into her eyes.
"Thanks for this, big guy," she told you with a little smile, "It was a fun night."
She also took a step forward, wrapped her arms around your neck and hugged you tightly. You wrapped your arms around her small body and reciprocated the hug.
"No problem, boss. It was fun for me too," you murmured in her ear, and then separated from her, "Rest well."
"You too, and good luck with the girls," she winked at you.
You turned to walk down the hallway, but she caught your attention again.
"Hey, just don't get too relaxed just because you're close to the boss," she warned, making an I'm-watching-you sign. Before you could respond, the elevator doors closed.
You finally turned around and walked down the hallway until you reached the door to Jimin's room. When you opened you found the lights off and all of them dressed in baggy and comfortable clothes. Everything seemed perfectly in order, they were all sitting on the bed, eating snacks, drinking Coca-Cola and watching TV.
"Hey, do you need anything? Maybe something else to eat or...?"
"What we need is for you to stop interrupting our girls' night out!" Minjeong said. You weren't surprised at that response.
"Aight, fair enough."
You approached each of them to say goodnight and kissed each one's cheeks except Ning's. You grabbed her by the chin, made her look at you and gave her a kiss on her lips. She smiled at you, you smiled back, and then turned to leave the room.
You took the elevator back and went to your floor. When you got to the door of your room and looked for your door card in your jacket pockets you couldn't find it. You didn't give it much importance, you just went to the reception, asked for a replacement and came back. While inside, you took all the things out of your jacket pockets and took it off. You also took off your shoes and pants, leaving you only in a sweatshirt, socks, and boxers.
You just laid down on your bed and waited. Yeji's video call arrived after about fifteen minutes. When you answered you were a little shocked, but frankly it didn't surprise you at all. On the other side of the screen they were all completely naked, all in different seductive poses on top of the extended sofa bed. The order from left to right was Ryujin, Yuna, Chaery, Lia and Yeji.
"Wow, what a nice surprise, right?" You said with a sly smile, looking carefully at each one of them and their perfect bodies.
"You like what you see huh?" said Ryujin, who was lying on her side just like in the photo she sent you. She put a hand on her ass and squeezed it.
"Daddy sure loves what she sees, don't ask stupid questions," Yuna said to Ryujin's side, then she put her hands on her tits and squeezed them. You were still impressed by how big she was.
"I'm going to spank your asses if you start arguing," you told them both.
"Yes please!" they both said in unison. You couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, you'll notice that we wanted to pull out all our tricks to remind you of what awaits you when you get home," Yeji said, playing with her own tits.
"Oh, believe me. I can't wait to go back and sink my fingers into those pussies again."
"How, like this?" Lia asked, spreading her legs wide open and taking a finger inside her pussy.
"Or maybe like this?" Yeji asked, bringing two fingers inside hers. They both let out a small moan.
"We thought it would be best to give you a show so you wouldn't have to imagine us too much while you're gone," Chaery said with an evil little smile. You were just surprised to hear her speak so confidently.
As soon as she finished that sentence, Ryujin crawled over Yuna and got on all fours between Chaery's legs, making sure the camera caught her ass with a butt plug buried in it. You looked at Chaery's face, and from the change in her expression you knew that Ryujin had started eating her out.
Being the restless girl that she was, Yuna moved to the other side of the sofa to get down and kneel in front of Yeji. She grabbed one of her feet and started kissing them. With Yuna worshiping her feet, Yeji removed her fingers from her pussy and reached between Lia's legs. Lia also took her finger out of her pussy, and as if it were a scripted act between them, they began to finger each other. The moans began to be present through the speakers of your phone.
At that point you could no longer resist the urge to touch yourself, so you took off your boxers and threw them on the floor. You brought one hand to your cock and started to stroke it slowly.
âYou girls are so fucking sexy, fuckâŚâ you gasped.
"You love this, don't you?" Yeji asked in a seductive tone looking directly into the camera as she pumped her fingers in and out of Lia's pussy.
Chaery was caressing Ryujin's hair, who was eating her out slowly but enough to make her moan again and again. Yuna stopped worshiping Yeji's feet and moved towards Lia, who began to kiss her thighs.
"I do love it, god. I can't wait to be there with you and hammer those pussies with all my might."
"Mmmgh!" Lia moaned louder, fucking Yeji's pussy with her fingers, "And fill our pussies with that hot load?"
"Fuck yeah baby," you started jerking off faster, making your moans audible so they knew what you were doing.
Yuna stopped kissing Lia's thighs and moved towards Ryujin, climbed onto the sofa again and removed the butt plug from her ass.
"Do you want to see a magic trick daddy?" Yuna asked, shaking the buttplug at the camera from side to side. She then turned her back to the camera, bent forward and buried the same butt plug that she had removed from Ryujin into her butthole. Then, she started eating Ryujin's ass fiercely.
You could barely hear Ryujin's moans muffled against Chaery's pussy, who judging by her red face and raised eyebrows you knew she was being eaten with much more enthusiasm and hunger. That led to her being the first to erupt in a chain of loud orgasms and spasms.
Lia matched Ryujin's position but in front of Yeji, who began to eat her pussy. Yeji tangled the strands of Lia's blonde hair between her fingers, and began to moan louder, looking directly into the camera with her predatory feline eyes. She wrapped her pale thighs around Lia's head, and raised her hips to grind her pussy against the blonde's mouth, throwing her head back and letting herself be carried away by the pleasure.
Ryujin's moans were heard more clearly since she had stopped eating Chaery's pussy, but she was still being eaten out by Yuna, who had both hands gripping her perfect buttocks while she shook her head madly against her ass and apparently her pussy too. Chaery moved away from the edge of the sofa, giving the three of them enough room to maneuver.
Yeji was the next to cum, making Lia eat her pussy and collect all her fluids. When her orgasm had passed, Lia stood up and pushed Yeji back against the couch, then straddled her, and crawled until her ass was on top of her face. She lowered her hips, burying Yeji's face between her fleshy buttocks. Yeji started eating her pussy while she squeezed her ass.
You were about to give them instructions, especially Chaery, Yuna and Ryujin, who were now sharing a torrid triple kiss. But your heart almost jumped out of shock when you heard the door to your room open. You immediately covered yourself with a pillow, but that fear soon disappeared when you noticed that the person who was entering was Ning.
You thanked God that none of the girls were looking at the camera and that they hadn't noticed your reaction. You quickly muted yourself.
"Honey, what are you doing?" you asked as she closed the door behind her.
"Don't worry about me..." she said while looking at your cock, also listening to what was happening on the other side of the screen.
She took off her cotton jacket and threw it next to your boxers. Then she also took off the pink tank top she was wearing and her bra. You looked at her beautiful free tits and bit your lip. You understood why she hadn't taken off her clothes from the waist down, you didn't comment on it.
You unmuted yourself, and turned your gaze to the screen to start giving orders to the ITZY girls.
"Chaery, eat Yuna's tits while Ryujin eats her pussy. Ryujin, you use your left hand to touch yourself and the other to finger Chaery."
The girls obeyed you, Yuna lay down with her legs spread and pressed against her torso; Chaery lay down on one side of her to bring one of her tits into her mouth, and Ryujin got on her hands and knees in front of Yuna's pussy, running one hand under her own body to rub her clit and extending her other arm to put her fingers inside Chaery's pussy. You continued to jerk your cock, alternating your gaze between the screen and Ning's eyes as she watched you touch yourself.
"Yeji, when you make Lia cum, go with Chaery and eat her ass real good. Lia, just make out with Yuna so you can rest."
While you were giving that order Ning had climbed onto the bed with you and knelt between your legs just to stare at you. When you finished giving the order and they started to move, she took your hand off your cock and replaced it with hers. You let out a louder moan as she matched your previous pace.
"Daddy, I can get my toys so we can all play, can I have permission?" Ryujin asked you, looking over her shoulder at you. You noticed that her jaw and her mouth were stained with saliva.
"Of course baby, but hurry up. Oh fuck..." you gasped. Ning had spit on her hand and now she was giving you a slippery handjob behind your phone. You were too careful not to accidentally press the flip camera button.
Ryujin disappeared from the plane and soon returned with her characteristic bag of toys. They all remained faithful to your orders until Yuna exploded with her first orgasm, that's when they all started taking toys out of the bag. Ryujin grabbed a bullet vibrator and a huge black silicone dildo; Yuna grabbed the pink dildo that she always chose and some black anal beads shaped like little balls; Yeji grabbed a clitoral stimulator and dildo that was small compared to the ones Ryujin and Yuna had chosen; Lia also picked up some anal beads, but these were cone-shaped; Chaery only picked up a microphone-shaped vibrator.
With the toys already chosen, the dirtiest of debaucheries began. Ryujin helped Yuna lubricate her anal beads and take them inside her ass while she was on her hands and knees. Yuna moaned loudly as each ball entered her tight butthole, until only the small ring by which the toy was held was outside of her. With her beads inside her ass, Yuna grabbed her dildo and slowly buried it inside her pussy to start fucking herself. Chaery took advantage of Yuna's mouth being free to sit in front of her and spread her legs so she could eat her pussy while she pressed the vibrator against her own clit.
Ryujin lay down next to Yuna and poured lube on her dildo to press it against her butthole. In a matter of seconds the dildo was halfway inside. She began using one of her hands to pump it over and over, and with the other she pulled on Yuna's anal beads, pulling them all out in a single pull that made Yuna squeal with pleasure. The process was constantly repeated, as Chaery caressed Yuna's hair and brought her vibrator to maximum speed.
When Yeji moved to the other side of the couch you realized that the clitoral stimulator was not for her, but for Ryujin. She turned it on, and the toy's little tongue began to move at full speed. Yeji brought it closer to Ryujin's pussy, and as soon as she pressed against her clitoris she began to writhe with pleasure. Then, Yeji took her small dildo and inserted it inside her pussy to start fucking herself at full speed with it.
Lia, on the other hand, had also lubricated her anal beads; but for this she asked Chaery for help. Lia stood on her hands and knees with her ass facing her, and Chaery grabbed her anal beads to bury them deep in Lia's trained ass.
Now the moans of the five girls were blasting through your speakers at full volume, in a catastrophic cacophony of pleasure and lust. You couldn't do anything but moan with them, not only looking at the screen and what they were doing, but also at Ning's eyes right above your phone as she gave you an incredible handjob.
All the girls came a few more times, Ryujin had even let out an intense stream of squirt that wet Yeji's entire naked body and the couch beneath them.
"Dear, are you close? We're starting to get exhausted," Yeji told you, turning to the camera. She was breathing hard and was covered in sweat.
Hearing that question, Ning hid behind your phone and took your entire cock into her mouth in one smooth motion. You rolled your eyes and let out a longer moan.
"Oh fuck yeah... I'm close," you stated between heavy pants. You moved your phone a little to the left so you could watch Ning suck you off.
Ning bobbed her head up and down again and again, covering your entire shaft with a thin layer of saliva and precum. Her hand was gripping the base of your cock, which she soon began using to also jerk you off while giving you one of the best blowjobs you had received since you were on tour with them.
"Perfect, because we still have one final act for you."
They all moved around the sofa and picked up Chaery to position her right in the center of it. Ryujin sat in the far corner to see everything, you noticed that she was the most exhausted. But the rest of the girls did jump into action. Lia lay down next to Chaery and started sucking, licking and kissing her tits. Yeji positioned herself between her legs, and took to alternating between feasting on her pussy and her butthole. Yuna finally sat on Chaery's face facing the camera and leaned forward to start rubbing her clit.
At that moment Ning took you out of her mouth and sat a few centimeters further away from your cock, taking advantage of how slippery your cock was to make a meat sandwich with her feet around it. She began to move her feet up and down, slow at first and picking up speed as the seconds passed. Soon you were also receiving an impeccable footjob.
From the way Chaery was writhing in the middle of all those bodies you could tell that she was approaching what was possibly the strongest orgasm she had ever had in her life. Ning felt you throbbing between her feet and leaned forward once again to now suck on your tip while jerking you off.
It didn't take long for all the inputs of pleasure that Chaery was receiving to bring her to her peak. She finally came, but you were surprised to see how she drenched Yuna's hand and Yeji's entire face with a powerful squirt. Seeing this made you and Yuna explode as well.
You grabbed Ning's head with your free hand and pushed it down until her nose was pressed against your pelvis. You shot spurt after spurt of hot cum into her throat, letting out loud moans that Yuna on the other side of the screen matched as she ground her hips against Chaery's face. You could hear Ning's gagging sounds as she took your entire load down her throat, and you just hoped the girls wouldn't do it.
Even though she was choking on your cock, Ning did her best to tighten her lips around your shaft so as not to let any drops spill out. When your orgasm was over, she pulled you out of her mouth and stuck out her tongue to show you that all your cum had gone down her throat and was gone.
"Well, I guess the real catching up will have to wait until one of the next few days," Yeji mentioned with a giggle, getting closer to the camera, "Fuck, these two bitches really squirted on me like they were in cahoots."
"Fuck..." you were breathing heavily, still recovering from that experience, "Yeah, sure baby," you nodded at Yeji.
"I have to hang up right now, we have to clean up this mess. I'll call you later, okay?"
"I'll be waiting, honey. I love you all, bye," you waved at the camera and blew them a kiss.
"Bye bye!" Yeji said, and as soon as she hung up you threw your phone aside.
"Ning Yizhuo..." you sighed, leaning up on your elbow to bring your hand to her face and caress it.
"I did a good job?" she asked with a shy tone of voice.
"You did amazing," you nodded with a smile, "Come here."
You put a hand on Ning's waist and pulled her up, she simply fell on top of you. Her naked tits pressed against you and her face below yours. You wrapped your arms around her and snuggled her against you as she placed her legs on either side of your hips.
"May I know how the hell you got in here?" you asked, stroking her hair.
"Well... Jimin-unnie has been giving us details of the days you spent together in Miami. I knew that I hadn't given you as much of myself or done as many things with you as she had, and since I didn't want you to forget about me, when you went to check on us and kissed me I took the card from your jacket pocket."
"How did you know it was there?"
"It stuck out of the pocket, darling."
You couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.
"Baby, I had to go to the lobby to get another card, you know?"
"I'm sorryyyy!" she said adorably, raising her head to look at you with a pout.
"You more than made up for it, believe me. So don't worry," you gave her a peck on the lips, "But honey, you don't have to compare yourself to any of the other members. I value each of you individually. Besides, I am the one who is here to help you and meet your needs. Not the other way around."
"I know, I know," she nodded as if she were being scolded, "But I couldn't help but feel like I want to be a lot more adventurous and try more things with you. Hearing how you reacted to Unnie's feet made me determined to want to try that, as well as giving you my other hole for the end of the tour... but I'm not ready for that yet."
"Dear, I am more than happy to help you explore new things, but only if they are things that you really want. I don't want you to feel pressured by the fact that the other members do things that you don't, that's not the important thing. "
Ning stared at you for a few long seconds and then cupped your face in her hands to kiss you again. This time it was a long, slow kiss, devoid of lust but full of love and affection.
"Thank you for always saying the right things and meaning them..." she murmured against your lips as she broke away from the kiss, "You're wonderful," she gave you a couple more short kisses, which you were happy to reciprocate.
"You really are wonderful, Ning Yizhuo, "Now lie down with me, let's spoon and take some sleep, will you?"
"Actually... I have to go back to Jiminie's room, honey, I'm sorry," she wailed with a sad look, "I don't want to raise suspicion when they wake up. They dropped dead before I left."
"Oh... sure," you nodded, even sadder than her, "It's okay, darling, no problem."
She got out of bed and began to put on the top garments that she had taken off.
"You should take me with you to ITZY's house sometime, it would be fun. I heard they have amazing pool parties."
"Well..." you went blank for a second, remembering the last day you spent there, "Yeah, I can certify that."
She approached you again, already dressed, and leaned in to give you one last kiss.
"Good night, sweetheart. Have sweet dreams," she told you, caressing your chin.
"Good night, cutie. You too," you responded as she walked towards the door, then left through it.
Left alone in your room you got up to put your boxers back on, turn off the light and go back to bed. You curled up under the covers, disappointed and a little sad that you didn't get to sleep with Ning that night. Before you could close your eyes you thought about many things. You thought about the drinks you had shared with Noze, and only then did you realize all the things you had done and that she had done. You had kissed her forehead, you had held her waist while she paid, and you had called her honeyâher calling you baby and holding on to your arm the entire trip back, by the way.
You also thought about your conversations with ITZY, especially Chaery. She had adhered to the request you made of her, she took care of everything that was yours there as if it were hers. And the simple fact of imagining her sleeping in your bed just because she missed you and wanted to be close to you somehow shrank your heart to the size of a marble. You missed her, a lot.
Lastly you thought of Ning. She was full of things that reminded you of Chaery, but she in turn shone with a very special and unique aura. She was willing to do anything to please you and see you happy, and she was very expressive about her feelings for you, with physical contact being her main love language for you. Your heart was being invaded from several hills, and she was leading the way with an imminent invader also hot on her heels: Noh Jihye.
With all those thoughts swirling around your head, especially the image of three girls, you closed your eyes and tried to relax to sleep.
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#ningning smut#itzy smut#aespa smut#yeji smut#ryujin smut#chaeryeong smut#yuna smut#lia smut#x male reader#male reader smut#x male reader smut
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[he's in a meeting]
A quick horny ramble about your boss failing to control himself. here's [part 2] for you horny, horny freaks (affectionate) Executive John Price x EA f!Reader 18+ mdni - ~1k words
Does that pen taste good?Â
Itâs the sixth time youâve stuck it in your mouth in the last minute.Â
John watches you through the shimmering glass of the conference room, his spinning leather seat perfectly situated; he can see you where you sit at your desk through the gap in the corridor, just the right angle to see you cross one of your nylon-sheathed legs over the other. Watches the sling-back of your kitten heel slip loose as you buck your foot, wiggling it in boredom, kicking the leg of your desk with the pointed toe.Â
You lavish that pen. Heâs almost jealous of it. Your gentle teeth bite down on the clicker, he sees you run it back and forth in strokes over your bottom lip. Glossy with balm and spit, the soft pink flesh of your lip pillows out around where you push the plastic in.Â
He adjusts himself in his seat, leaning back to stretch out the tension knotting in his abdominals. Turns his head back towards the conference table at regular intervals to ensure he appears appropriately attentive, avoiding comment from his fellow executives that he looks distracted.Â
They drone on about the merger, about surplus, about transition plans and communication bottlenecks. Theyâll ask him for his input as their senior, heâll make a noncommittal comment and defer to somebody else to elaborate.Â
And heâll look back at you.Â
You lean over your desk and the waistband of your pencil skirt cuts into the arch of your spine, the grey pinstripe material strains over the mouthwatering swell of your ass. The seams look weak. Wouldnât take much to tear it apart. Â
Fuck, he wants to tear it to shreds.Â
Heâd have to, the fabric is too firm, too tight to be rucked up to your hips; no, heâd grab it by the hem and rip it apart by the stitches. Heâd roll down your stockings, peel them from your legs, and use them to bind together your winsome hands. Heâd hold your little head against the wood veneer of your desk, heâd knock over the jar that holds all of your pens with the force in his thrusts as he stuffs you full.Â
He can hear you mewling in your sweetly surprised voice; Please, Mr Price. That hurts, Mr Price. Harder, Mr Price.Â
Gritting teeth, he hopes his colleagues pay no mind to the bulging veins that throb in his temples. To the tendons in the back of his hands wrenching under his skin as they clench into fists. He bounces his knee, some effort at somatic distraction, to keep the blood flowing anywhere else but his cock.Â
He knew hiring you was a terrible idea. He saw you waiting outside his office before your interview, and immediately knew it would be cruel of him to subject you to being his subordinate. You were impish and clever during that interview, took everything he threw at you and sucked on it thoughtfully, presented it back to him as hard candy.Â
When you left with that saunter, so confident you had gotten the job - he decided then and there that he couldnât have you as his executive assistant. Because in that short thirty minutes you had invaded every crevice of his mind, you lingered on his tongue long after you left. It took every synapse of his brain to forcibly prevent his body from enacting what it so ravenously wanted to, from tearing you out of your seat and breaking you in half over his desk.Â
But, to his dismay, the decision had been taken from his grip. He offered one positive statement about you, and that was that - human resources declared your resume the strongest, your attitude the keenest, and you were hired without much fanfare.Â
He insisted your desk be far from his, out of sight and mind; but even still, every morning, he could smell your perfume where it lingered by the coffee machine, could hear your cloying giggles from across the expansive office.Â
He had scolded you, once, dragged you into his office in sight of all of your murmuring colleagues. He told you that you were too distractible, too easily turned away from your tasks by things more interesting. He said that if you didnât like doing what you were told, then this wasnât the place for you.Â
But, no, you simply gave him a sweet and eager smile. This is the place for me, Mr Price. Iâm sorry. It wonât happen again.Â
His cock turned to steel at your desperate apology, at your sycophantic enthusiasm - and that was the last time he scolded you.Â
If he were a better man, he would have fucked his fist in a cubicle to the image of you, shot ropes of his pent-up come into some single ply toilet paper and flushed it away, over and done with.Â
But he has let it build, has let the pressure mount within his welded seams such that he threatens to erupt like a steam boiler.Â
Your tongue juts out only slightly, you lick the tip of your painted finger to help you turn the page of the folder you sift through, and your lip catches in your teeth.Â
ââScuse me for a minute,â is all he says, it comes out of his throat ragged and strained, and he pushes himself up from the conference table.Â
Follow a few murmurs of either dispute or acceptance - they fall on deaf ears, as he shoves open the swinging glass door and marches down the short corridor.Â
The footsteps of his leather oxfords are loud despite being muted by the dense, flat carpet - they alert you to his approach, and you tug the wet pen from your lips when you swivel around to look at him.Â
You squeak, already fearing admonishment, âMr-â
âA word,â he grunts, a succinct order, gesturing with a hand for you to follow him.Â
Letting out his tie just a bit, he bites down hard on nothing.Â
âOh - yes, of course,â you oblige with a stammer, pushing yourself to stand and smoothing out the creases in your little skirt with flat palms. âAm I in trouble?â
Huffing impatiently, eyes dark, he gives you a single and rigid nod.
âYou might be.â
#oh no mr price please don't write me up for insubordination#john price x reader#john price#captain price x reader#captain john price#call of duty fanfic#cod fanfic#cod smut#bitterfruit fics#bitten-fruit
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My Body is a Cage
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Heavy angst, death. Word count: ~2.3k
Summary: When Aemond goes to Storm's End to offer a betrothal between his younger brother, Daeron, and one of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters, he does not anticipate the arrival of his nephew, Lucerys, nor does he anticipate murdering him. He seeks comfort and reassurance in the arms of his betrothed, but soon finds she has neither to offer to a kinslayer... Based on this request.
Author's note: For @doomwhathouwilt Moodboard by the wonderful @flowerandblood. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.
Grief is an impregnable fortress, an all consuming void that, once toppled into, feels impossible to escape. When grief turns to rage, there is the false belief that one has found freedom, however, it is merely the act of replacing the bars of a cage with anger instead of sorrow. The emotions vibrate at a differing frequency, yet the imprisonment is fortified with equally devastating consequences.
The air is thick as Aemond dismounts from Vhagar, the sulphurous stench of dragonfire clings to his leather riding coat like a shroud as his boots crunch heavily across the gravel, leading him back towards the imposing ruin of Harrenhal. His skin is hot, he can feel the soot that darkens the ends of his snow white hair also sticking to the flesh of his cheeks. There is no time to pause and wipe it away, not when duty awaits.
The heavy oak doors creak as he pushes them open, revealing the men that sit around the long table in the centre of the room - his war council - dwindled to a paltry number since the war began. They stand as he enters, each of them look ashen faced, none standing quite as proudly as they once had. He swallows thickly, before addressing them.
âBe seated,â he snaps dismissively. âHave the Riverlands been scouted? Do we have the final count of Houses that have fallen?â
How different life is now to what it was a year ago.
Aemondâs betrothal to Lady Fell had been a political arrangement, a bargaining tool utilised by his grandsire to secure loyalty to Aegonâs claim to the throne in the Stormlands. A lady in waiting for Helaena, it had made perfect sense, she was already present within the Keep, so their courtship could be easily managed.
Despite the formality of it, Aemond had grown to love her, and in turn she loved him. She was patient where he was quick to anger, forgiving where he was vengeful, all of the things he knew he did not deserve and yet yearned for just the same.
He basked in the glow of her radiant smile, his heart softening when she did not recoil from his disfigurement. With every stolen kiss in darkened corridors, every eager touch that lingered in places that decency dictated be saved for their wedding night, the burden of the injustice that had been bestowed upon him felt lighter to bear. Despite the hardships that had befallen him, his affection for her came easily, there was nothing simpler in his world.
Then his father, King Viserys, had passed away, and life for Aemond grew infinitely more complicated.
There had always been the unspoken intention that his mother and grandfather planned to challenge his half sister Rhaenyraâs claim to the throne, however, even he was surprised by the swiftness with which they moved to coronate Aegon. Further still, there was the responsibility that fell to him as second son to help assure his brother kept the throne that his family had made bold moves to secure.
Many of the lords that had sworn fealty to Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne had long since passed, and she would surely be sending reminders to their heirs of the vows sworn more than a decade ago. It was up to Aemond to ensure that better offers were made in Aegonâs name.
With Daeron in Oldtown, Aemond was tasked with earning the fealty of The Stormlands. Despite his own impending marriage to Lady Fell, without the support of House Baratheon they would stand little chance of gaining any further support from that part of Westeros. In order to do this, he was to fly to Stormâs End to offer a marriage proposal between his younger brother and one of Lord Baratheonâs daughters.
He had been given a warm reception upon his arrival, and Lord Borros had readily accepted his offer. Aemond has chosen carefully for Daeron, desiring for him to have a match that would make him as happy as he was with Lady Fell. He had selected the youngest of the Four Storms, Floris. Closest in age to his sibling, and the most comely of her sisters, she had seemed the best suited. Aemond had felt satisfied that he could return to Kingâs Landing proud of what he had accomplished for his family.
What he hadnât anticipated was the arrival of his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon.
When he saw the dark haired boy enter the hall, he had felt a phantom slash across the left side of his face, a malevolent rage simmered beneath the surface of his skin, barely concealed by the sinister smirk that tugged upwards at the corners of his mouth.
With every word that Lucerys uttered, Aemondâs mood grew darker. Was it not enough that his half sisterâs bastard had taken his eye? Now he meant to take his brotherâs birthright too.
As he had chased down Lucerys and Arrax on the back of Vhagar, he had only intended to scare him. If his nephew felt only a fraction of the fear that he had endured as a boy, as he had laid bleeding and maimed upon the dusty ground of Driftmark, then he would consider it a triumph, a reminder that there was a debt to be paid.
His heart had lurched when the jaws of his dragon had snapped around the body of the one they had been pursuing, sending both rider and mount toppling into the sea below. He had killed him. Yet the tears he wept as he made the sombre return home to Kingâs Landing were not for the death of Lucerys, they were for the consequences that his family would face as a result. The debt owed to Aemond had been paid in blood, and it would cost his family everything.
He had immediately sought out Lady Fellâs chambers upon his return to the Red Keep. The rain had dripped off of his riding leathers and onto the flagstone floor in cold rivulets as he had hovered in her doorway, eye wide and imploring.
She had rushed to him, grasping his forearms and pulling him inside. Her touch had immediately grounded him, calmed the pounding in his chest. It would all be alright in the end, how could it not be with her at his side?
âYou will catch a fever like this,â she said with a soft laugh,âcould you really not wait to get changed to see me?â
He raised a hand to stroke through her soft hair, loose and brushed through, ready for sleep. It was only as he did this that he realised he was trembling, and not from the cold.
âAemond?â She asked, her brow furrowing with concern. âWhat is it?â
It would be fine. He could tell her this. She loved him. She would understand.
âI killed him,â he told her in a hushed tone, his eye reluctantly meeting hers.
Her lips had parted in shock, before she exhaled shakily. âKilled who?â
âLucerys,â he told her, âI did not mean to, I only meant to frighten him, but I lost control, and now he is dead.â
He had expected her to embrace him, to tell him Lucerys had gotten what he deserved, that she would stand by him.
Instead, she had pulled away, and at the loss of her touch Aemond had felt as though he was in freefall. The warmth that usually filled her gaze when she looked upon him was filled with an emotion that he had never seen her direct at him before: fear.
His stomach had twisted into knots and his throat had grown dry as heâd taken a step towards her, hoping to bridge the gap between them, and instead she had furthered it by taking one backwards.
âKinslayer,â she had whispered shakily. âLeave my chambers at once or I shall scream.â
He had turned and walked away without another word, a gaping void opening within his chest at the realisation that her love for him had died alongside Lucerys.
His world had seemed as though it was coming to an end when Lady Fell departed Kingâs Landing to return to Felwood. She was taking his heart with him, and he grieved the loss of her, alongside the knowledge that he had jeopardised his familyâs prospects for an alliance with the Houses of the Stormlands.
Consumed by grief, her absence was never felt more than in the moments when his nephew, Jaehaerys, was murdered and Aegon was grievously injured in battle. He no longer had her to turn to for comfort, and so his sorrow turned to rage, hot as dragonâs fire. If the only person he had ever truly loved saw him as someone to fear, then he would become just that. The loss of her would not be for nothing.
It was this thought that had clouded his thoughts as he had seized Harrenhal, and put every person residing within to the sword. Every person except one: Alys Rivers. She was a witch, and the visions she conjured within fire aided him in his efforts in battle, though his uncle continued to evade him.
He had grown to love Alys, not in the same way he loved Lady Fell, but he felt that Alys was the match that he deserved. Lady Fell possessed a kind heart, a purity that Aemond could never dream of aspiring to. There was a darkness within Alys that paralleled his own, and so when she invited him to her bed, he did not resist.
There was no hushed laughter, or gentle caresses, the pair of them tore at each other like wild beasts, both of them pouring their malice into the other. There was no warmth to be found in her gaze, only a sharpness that served to encourage his bloodlust and desire for vengeance.
She had told him that she was expecting his child, and his thoughts had drifted to what could have been with his betrothed; a soft, happy bundle of joy that would have been all of the best parts of its mother. He wondered what qualities the bastard he had fathered upon Alys would possess, perhaps they had created the second coming of Maegor Targaryen. It would be no less than what he deserved.
When the news had reached him of Rhaenyraâs capture of Kingâs Landing, he was briefly thankful that Lady Fell no longer resided there, though enraged that he was not able to fly back to the capital to defend his family. If he ended his occupation of Harrenhal, then it would provide his uncle with the opportunity to seize it back.
The fear in Lady Fellâs eyes flashed through his mind once more. Fear. If he could inspire that, do any damage possible to his half sisterâs plight, then he would. His losses would not be for nothing.
He was merciless as he mounted Vhagar and flew over the Riverlands, torching everything in his path. Every House that had sworn allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen would burn, for her capture of the capital would be meaningless with no supporters left to aid her.
It is in the wake of this that he stands, waiting to hear of the total losses of support to his half sister.
The maester clears his throat, unfurling a parchment upon the tabletop. âThe final raven has just arrived, your grace,â he tells Aemond. âHouse Darry, House Blackwood, House Fellââ
âHouse Fell?â He interrupts, his blood turning to ice in his veins. âImpossible, they are based in the Northern Stormlands.â
âYes, your grace. However, there was a betrothal between the youngest daughter of House Fell and the youngest son of House Blackwood. Lord Fell and his family had been guests of Raventree Hall.â
Bile rises in his throat. He had killed her. The only good thing he had ever had in the world had died at his hands. She had been right to be afraid of him, and yet it had not helped to save her. He does not want to live a life where her goodness has been snuffed out. For every atrocity he has committed in the name of his familyâs honour, he has known that the gentleness of her soul is a beacon of hope that there is goodness in humanity. Now there is nothing. He is trapped in a prison of his own making.
It has to end.
With the aid of Alys, he tracks Daemon to South of the Trident, West of the Kingsroad in the Southern Riverlands. His uncle is eagerly awaiting him.
As he kisses Alys, his usual ferocity is absent. His lips are soft and tender against hers, filled with unspoken devotion, the goodbye kiss he never got to give to his intended.
He knows this is a battle he will not return from as he chains himself into Vhagarâs saddle. The cage he is trapped in has only one means of escape.
Daemon is a savage opponent, and Aemond fights as though he has nothing to lose. What else could possibly be taken from him, when he has already deprived himself of it? As his uncle leaps from the back of Caraxes towards him, he does not resist, even as the blade of Dark Sister plunges brutally into the socket of his seeing eye.
His final thought as his body tumbles down towards the icy waters of the Godâs Eye is that finally he is free, and if he could not reciprocate his true loveâs purity in life then perhaps the Seven will see fit to grant him the opportunity to do so in death.
When grief is allowed to mutate into rage, it will become a personâs ruin, and none more so than that of Aemond Targaryen.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#the one eyed prince#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#pro aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond x y/n#hotd aemond#aemond hotd#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond imagine#aemond tagraryen fan fiction#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fan fic#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd angst#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfiction#hotd fan fic#hotd fanfic
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hiii I LOVED ur ni-ki hogwarts au and I wanted to request more for ni-ki in hogwarts au if thatâs okay đđ?? I love ur writing, itâs really immersive and Iâll definitely look forward to many more of ur writings đđŤś
đđđ đ˝đđđŞđŠđŽ đđ đđŁđ¤đŹ đźđŁđ đđđ - N.R
AHH THANK UU!! I was quite unsure if you wanted part 2 from the previous one, but nahh i will give you all a new scenario :) (Big thanks to bestie @starf4lls for the help for this one!! Ily! <3 (thanks for buying me hogwarts legacy, will never forget it)
P: Slytherin!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Teasing
Synopsis: When you transfer to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny, you quickly catch the attention of Nishimura Ni-ki, a charming Slytherin.
masterlist
٨Ů٨ŮâĄďŽŠŮ¨Ů٨Ů
The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. Students filled the long, wooden tables. The Sorting Hat had just finished placing the last of the first years into their respective houses, when Professor Dumbledore stood up from his ornate chair at the staff table. He raised a hand, and the hall fell silent.
âCongratulations to all our new first years,â Dumbledore began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. âWe are thrilled to have you join our Hogwarts family. But tonight, we have another special announcement. This year, we have the pleasure of welcoming a new student from one of our neighboring schools, Ilvermorny. Please join me in extending a warm welcome to Y/N.â
The massive doors at the back of the hall creaked open, and all eyes turned to see you entering, flanked by the ever-grumpy caretaker, Filch. Your plain robes set you apart from the others, and you couldnât help but gaze around in wonder at the majestic hall, the floating candles, and the enchanted ceiling.
As you made your way to the front, the murmur of whispers followed you, a mix of curiosity and excitement. Filch gestured towards a stool where the Sorting Hat sat waiting. âPlease, take a seat, Miss,â he said gruffly. You nodded, smiling nervously, and perched on the stool as Professor McGonagall approached with the Sorting Hat.
She placed the hat gently on your head, and you felt it settle over your eyes. For a moment, there was only silence, and then a voice echoed in your mind. âAh, a transfer from IlvermornyâŚinteresting. Where to put you, where to put you?â
After what felt like an eternity but was merely seconds, the hat declared your house. The table erupted in cheers, and you made your way over, greeted by friendly faces and welcoming smiles.
You didnât notice the pair of piercing eyes from the Slytherin table, watching your every move. The gaze was intense, like a predator sizing up its prey. As you took your seat among your new housemates, you felt a shiver run down your spine, unaware that someone had taken a particular interest in you from the moment you stepped into the Great Hall.
٨Ů٨ŮâĄďŽŠŮ¨Ů٨Ů
Life at Hogwarts had turned out to be both thrilling and challenging, but you adapted quickly. The first few weeks had been a whirlwind of lessons, new faces, and navigating the sprawling castle. At first glance, you might have appeared aloof, often lost in thought or daydreaming as you strolled through the corridors or took your seat in class. But in truth, you werenât lost at all. You excelled in your studies, quickly mastering spells and absorbing knowledge at a pace that even impressed your professors. You built a tight-knit group of friends, mostly from your house but with a few from other houses as well.
Still, there were odd moments when you couldnât shake the feeling that someone was watching you. A tingling awareness would prick at the back of your neck as you walked to class or studied in the library. Yet, every time you turned to look, no one seemed to be paying you any special attention. Youâd shake it off, wondering if you were just imagining things, and continue on with your day.
But today, during Charms class, that lingering feeling returned. You were sitting near the front, dutifully taking notes as Professor Flitwick explained a particularly tricky spell. As you wrote, you felt it againâthat unmistakable sensation of being watched. This time, instead of turning your head sharply, you let your eyes slowly drift upward, keeping your head down and posture casual.
Thatâs when you saw him.
Sitting in the back row, partially obscured by a few of his Slytherin housemates, was a strikingly handsome boy. His black hair fell over the left side of his face, casting a shadow over one eye, but the other was locked on you with an intense focus that sent a shiver down your spine. He didnât look away when you noticed him. In fact, he seemed amused by the fact that you had caught him staring. He tilted his head slightly, and for a brief moment, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His gaze was dark, calculating, but there was something exhilarating about having it fixed on you.
You blinked, heart racing, and quickly averted your gaze back to your notes, trying to focus on the lesson. But the curiosity gnawed at you, distracting you from the spells and incantations. With a soft hum, you scribbled a quick note in the corner of your notebook: Whoâs the dark-haired Slytherin on the last row to the left?
You slid the notebook toward one of your Ravenclaw friends sitting beside you, a clever boy named Adrian. He glanced down, read your note, then discreetly lifted his gaze to the back of the class. His eyes landed on the boy before he quickly scribbled a response and slid the notebook back to you.
Thatâs Nishimura Riki, but he goes by Ni-ki.
You read the note and nodded lightly, casting another glance toward the back of the room. Ni-ki was still watching you, his eyes meeting yours as soon as you looked up. This time, you didnât look away so quickly. Instead, you absently caressed the feather of your quill, feeling a rush of anticipation as his gaze lingered.
Ni-ki, huh? You thought to yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips.
When class ended, you let out a breath you hadnât realized you were holding. As the other students filed out of the room, you packed your things, trying to act as though your thoughts werenât entirely preoccupied with the tall, dark-haired Slytherin.
You slipped your notebook into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Heading for the door, you kept your gaze ahead, your heart still racing slightly from the earlier encounter. As you stepped through the doorway and into the hallway, you turned to glance back, almost instinctively.
And thatâs when you bumped into something solidâsomeone solid.
Startled, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his. It was Ni-ki, standing impossibly close, his tall frame towering over you. His presence was even more imposing now that he was right in front of you, and for a moment, you were struck speechless.
âOhâsorry!â you blurted out, feeling your cheeks warm as you took a small step back.
Ni-ki didnât move, but the hint of a smirk played at his lips, the same one you had seen earlier in class. âDonât apologize, itâs okay,â he said, his voice smooth, rich with an underlying confidence that made your pulse quicken.
Up close, he was even more striking than you had realized. His sharp eyes were intense, framed by dark lashes that gave him an almost mysterious air. His lips, full and soft, curled slightly as he observed you, and his skin was flawless and smooth.
You blinked, trying to collect yourself, but being this close to him had thrown you off balance. He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze unwavering, as if he was reading something in you that no one else had ever seen.
âHey youâre from Ilvermorny, right?â he asked, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.
You nodded, a little too quickly. âYeah, and you're⌠Ni-ki?â you replied, your voice coming out steadier than you expected.
âExactly,â he said, flashing a charming smile that made your heart skip a beat.
Just then, you remembered something. âActually, itâs Y/n,â you corrected him gently, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
His grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, the distance between you diminishing even more. âI know,â he said playfully, his tone teasing. âBut I think âIlvermornyâ suits you better. It has a nice ring to it.â
Your cheeks flushed at the nickname, and you couldnât help but laugh. âYouâre really going to call me that, arenât you?â
âAbsolutely,â he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. âItâs perfect, and itâll remind everyone that youâre something special. Plus, itâs a good conversation starter.â
âFine,â you conceded, a smirk playing on your lips. âBut only if you promise to call me by my real name sometimes too.â
âDeal,â he said, his voice smooth and confident. âBut for now, I think Ilvermorny has a nice charm to it, donât you?â
Before you could think of how to respond, he took a small step back, giving you some space but not breaking eye contact. âIâll see you around, Ilvermorny,â Ni-ki said, his voice smooth as ever, as he turned and began walking away, his pace unhurried.
You stood there for a moment, watching him as he disappeared down the hall. The encounter left you feeling oddly exhilarated, your heart still pounding in your chest.
As you turned to head back to your common room, one thought echoed in your mind: Ni-ki is definitely someone to keep an eye on.
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Over the next few weeks, you started noticing Ni-kiâs presence more and more. It wasnât just in passing glances during classes anymoreâhe seemed to be everywhere. Whether you were heading to the library, walking down the hallway, or grabbing lunch in the Great Hall, he always found a way to cross your path. And every time, heâd stop to talk, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
At first, it was subtle. Heâd give a casual âHey, Ilvermornyâ as he passed by, his eyes locking onto yours for just a second longer than necessary. Then it became more frequent. Youâd feel a tap on your shoulder in the corridors, turning to find him leaning casually against the wall, looking at you with that same half-smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
He wasnât just talking, either. He started doing little things, almost without you realizing it at first. If you were carrying a stack of books that looked too heavy, heâd take them from you with a simple, âHere, let me get that.â Once, when you were balancing your bag and a few loose scrolls of parchment after class, he slid the bag off your shoulder before you even had time to protest. âIâll carry it,â he said smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. And he did, walking beside you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
It wasnât just about being helpful either. Ni-ki had a way of complimenting you that felt almost too effortless. âYou look nice today,â heâd say, his voice low and smooth as he passed by, sending a shiver down your spine. Or sometimes, when you were deep in thought or stressing over an assignment, heâd lean in close and say something like, âYouâre always so focused. Itâs kind of impressive.â And his words stuck with you longer than you liked to admit.
The candies were a nice touch too. Out of nowhere, he started bringing you small treats from Hogsmeadeâtiny, colorful sweets that were your favorite. He never made a big deal of it, just handed them to you with a casual, âThought you might like these,â before walking off like it was no big deal. But every time you opened your hand to find another sweet, you couldnât help but smile to yourself, wondering just how closely he was paying attention.
Yet, there was another side to Ni-ki. You started to notice the way his eyes would darken slightly whenever another guy approached you. If a boy from your house stopped to talk with you, asking about class or inviting you to study in the library, Ni-kiâs gaze would turn sharp, though he never said a word. He didnât have to. His presence was enough to make the others hesitate, sensing the unspoken tension.
And when youâd turn back to Ni-ki, giving him your full attention again, his expression would shift instantlyâback to that smug, satisfied look, as though heâd won some unspoken battle. You found it oddly cute, the way he seemed so sure of himself, yet always with that hint of playful arrogance.
One afternoon, while you were walking out of Potions class, a Gryffindor boy from your year had caught up to you, asking about a spell youâd used during the lesson. You were explaining it when you felt that familiar gaze on you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed what you already knewâNi-ki, standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable but his eyes locked on you and the boy next to you.
As soon as the Gryffindor left, Ni-ki was there, falling into step beside you. âYou sure have a lot of people interested in what you have to say,â he commented, his voice smooth, but there was a teasing edge to it.
You shrugged, smiling. âMaybe Iâm just that interesting.â
Ni-ki smirked, his eyes gleaming. âOh, I already know that.â He glanced down at you, his gaze lingering in a way that made your heart skip. âBut itâs nice when you remember whoâs been paying attention the longest.â
He didnât wait for you to respond, just continued walking beside you, carrying your bag without a second thought, like he always did now. You couldnât help but find it adorable how Ni-ki never seemed to let any other guy linger too long in your space. And the way he always seemed so smug when you gave him your attention? It made you smile, even if you tried to hide it.
Ni-ki was becoming a constant presence in your life, and though he never said it outright, it was clear that he was staking his claim, in his own subtle, confident way. And somehow, you didnât mind it at all. In fact, you found yourself looking forward to those moments more than you would ever admit.
٨Ů٨ŮâĄďŽŠŮ¨Ů٨Ů
It was a crisp, sunny Saturday morning when Ni-ki approached you with that familiar confident smile, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. He found you in the hallway, casually leaning against the wall as though he hadnât sought you out deliberately, though by now, you knew better. He always had a reason for being wherever you were.
âIlvermorny,â he said, his voice smooth as ever, âyou coming to the Quidditch match today?â
You looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow. âYou really expect me to cheer for Quidditch?â
He chuckled softly, his eyes narrowing in that mischievous way that made your heart race. âMaybe. Or maybe I just want you there, cheering for me.â
You couldnât help the smile that tugged at your lips. Ni-ki was relentless, and somehow, you found yourself agreeing despite the obvious conflict of interest. âAlright, Iâll come,â you said, pretending to be reluctant. âBut donât expect me to be super hyped.â
He smirked, clearly pleased. âWeâll see about that.â
Later that afternoon, you found yourself seated in the stands, wrapped in your house scarf, surrounded by your friends who were all eager to cheer. Despite their enthusiasm, your eyes kept straying to the Slytherin side of the pitch, where Ni-ki and his teammates were preparing for the match.
As Madam Hooch gathered both teams in the center of the field to go over the rules, you saw Ni-kiâs head turn, his eyes scanning the crowd. You could tell he was looking for someoneâlooking for you. When his gaze finally found you in the stands, his expression brightened instantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He raised an eyebrow, the unspoken question in his eyes clear: Youâre really here?
You smiled and waved at him, feeling the warmth spread through your chest despite the cool breeze. Ni-ki's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with that same smug confidence, as if knowing you were watching had just made his day. He nodded once, then turned back to the game with renewed energy.
The whistle blew, and the game began.
From the moment the Quaffle was released, Ni-ki was in his element. He moved with a grace and agility that made it impossible to tear your eyes away from him. He darted through the air with incredible speed, dodging Bludgers and weaving around the other players with ease. As a Chaser, he was relentless, racking up goal after goal for Slytherin. Every time he scored, the crowd would erupt, but you couldnât help but feel like his victories were just as much for you as they were for his team.
It wasnât long before your friends started to notice your divided attention. âWho are you actually cheering for?â one of them teased, nudging you with a playful grin. âYour eyes have been on the Slytherin side for most of the match.â
You laughed, trying to play it off, but there was no denying it. âMaybe Iâm just appreciating good Quidditch,â you replied, but the look in your eyes gave you away.
As the game went on, Ni-ki continued to dominate, his skill on full display. And every now and then, between plays, youâd catch him glancing toward the stands, searching for you again. Each time, his smirk would reappear, as if knowing you were watching him gave him even more confidence. Youâd wave or give him a small nod, and heâd flash that cocky smile before diving back into the game with even more intensity.
Your friends started giving you a few suspicious looks, but they were too absorbed in the match to question it too much. And besides, it was hard not to be impressed by Ni-kiâs performanceâhe was a natural on the pitch, and it was clear that he knew it.
By the time the match ended, Slytherin had won, and Ni-ki was at the center of the victory celebration, his teammates patting him on the back and cheering his name. But even in the midst of the chaos, his eyes sought yours once again. And when he found you, standing and clapping in the stands, he shot you a triumphant look, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever.
You couldnât help but smile back, shaking your head at how effortlessly he had won both the match and your attention.
As the crowd began to disperse, Ni-ki flew toward the stands, clearly intent on finding you. Your heart sped up as he approached, his hair slightly tousled from the wind and the exertion of the game, but his sharp eyes still gleaming with that playful arrogance.
âSo,â he said when he finally reached you, his voice low and teasing, âdid I live up to your expectations?â
You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over. âI suppose you werenât terrible.â
He chuckled, leaning in just slightly, his eyes locked on yours. âI saw you cheering for me,â he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a thrill through you. âYou couldnât hide it, Y/N.â
You blushed but held his gaze. âMaybe you earned it,â you replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies swirling in your stomach.
Ni-kiâs smirk deepened, and he straightened up, clearly pleased with himself. âGood,â he said, his tone soft but confident. âBecause I expect you to be at every game from now on.â
You laughed, shaking your head, but there was no denying the excitement building inside you. âWeâll see,â you said playfully, though you already knew you wouldnât be able to stay away.
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Before you knew it, you had developed a little crush on Ni-ki. It crept up on you quietly, sneaking into your thoughts during class and fluttering in your stomach whenever he came around. And as your feelings deepened, you started to tease him back whenever you had the chance, finding joy in turning the tables on the boy who had so effortlessly captured your attention.
You quickly learned that bantering with him was just as entertaining as watching him play Quidditch. Ni-ki would lean down, getting uncomfortably close, pretending not to hear you whenever you asked him something in a crowded corridor. He would arch an eyebrow, a teasing smile dancing on his lips as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks from the closeness. You could see how much he enjoyed it, but what made it even more satisfying was the way a faint pink hue would tint his cheeks when he turned his head, as if he was trying to laugh off the effect you had on him.
One afternoon, as you sat together in the courtyard, discussing your assignments, you decided it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Ni-ki was animatedly explaining something, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. You feigned interest, letting your gaze drift as you formulated your plan.
When he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone, you took the opportunity. With a sudden tug, you grabbed his tie, pulling him down to your level. âWhat did you say?â you asked, your tone innocent, even as you played with the soft fabric in your hands.
Ni-kiâs eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of awe and disbelief flickering across his face. For a split second, he seemed completely speechless, caught off guard by your boldness. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he registered what had just happened. But then, as if recalling himself, he looked away, trying to appear stern but failing miserably. You caught the slight tremor in his voice when he responded, though. âYou know, youâre really pushing your luck, Ilvermorny.â
You only smiled, relishing the moment as you leaned in slightly, maintaining the playful banter. âAm I? I thought you liked it when I paid attention to you,â you shot back, your heart racing at the playful challenge in your tone.
His gaze flickered back to yours, surprise still evident in his features. But then he huffed, a smile breaking through the façade. âYouâre really something else, you know?â he said, shaking his head as if he couldnât quite believe what had just happened.
His reaction was everything you had hoped for, the way he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and amusement, his voice softening as he spoke. It was as if you had pulled back a layer, revealing a side of him that he didnât often show to others.
âMaybe I am,â you teased, the corners of your mouth curling into a smirk. âBut thatâs what keeps you coming back, isnât it?â
Ni-ki chuckled, leaning back just a fraction, his expression smug once more. âYou really think youâre that special, huh?â
You couldnât help but laugh, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face. âIâm just saying, you wouldnât want anyone else getting this kind of attention, would you?â
His smirk faltered for just a moment, a look of genuine thought crossing his features before he leaned closer again, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. âNo, I wouldnât. But I wouldnât tell anyone that. They might get jealous.â
The way he said it made you feel giddy, a combination of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach.
٨Ů٨ŮâĄďŽŠŮ¨Ů٨Ů
As the weeks went by, you and Ni-ki fell into a comfortable rhythm, filled with playful banter and flirtation that seemed to grow bolder with each interaction. It became a part of your daily routine, whether you were in class, studying in the library, or wandering the Hogwarts grounds.
One chilly afternoon, you and Ni-ki decided to take a walk around the Black Lake, the air crisp and refreshing. The leaves had started to change colors, and the scenery was breathtaking. As you strolled along the waterâs edge, the conversation flowed easily, with both of you exchanging light-hearted jabs.
âBet I could skip this stone further than you,â Ni-ki challenged, picking up a smooth rock and tossing it expertly across the surface. It skipped three times before sinking.
âPlease, that was barely a throw,â you laughed, picking up a stone of your own. You focused on your technique, channeling all the concentration you could muster. With a flick of your wrist, the stone flew across the water, skipping six times before finally disappearing. You turned to him triumphantly. âHowâs that for a throw?â
Ni-ki feigned a dramatic gasp, placing a hand on his chest. âI am in the presence of a stone-skipping champion,â he said with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming mischievously.
âDonât get too cocky; youâll never beat me,â you teased back, reveling in the thrill of competition.
Another afternoon, you found yourself in the library studying for an upcoming exam. As you sat at a table, trying to focus, you felt Ni-ki slide into the seat next to you. âMind if I join?â he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
âSure, as long as youâre quiet,â you replied, but you couldnât hide your smile.
âI can be quiet,â he said dramatically, pressing a finger to his lips. âBut only if you promise to let me steal some of your notes later.â
âNice try,â you said, shaking your head. âYouâll have to earn those.â
For the next few minutes, you both pretended to study, though you were acutely aware of the way he kept glancing over at you, a playful smile lurking on his lips. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you looked up. âWhatâs so funny?â
Ni-ki leaned in closer, his voice low. âI just canât believe youâre actually studying. Itâs not like you need to, with how smart you are.â
You narrowed your eyes playfully. âAre you trying to butter me up for my notes?â
âMaybe,â he replied, a teasing glint in his eye. âOr maybe I just genuinely enjoy watching you work. Itâs kind of cute.â
You felt your heart flutter, and you struggled to maintain your composure. âCute, huh? Thatâs not exactly the word Iâd use to describe my study habits.â
âNo, but itâs definitely how Iâd describe you,â he said, his tone sincere now.
You could feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks again, but instead of shying away, you leaned in slightly, enjoying the closeness. âFlattery will get you nowhere, you know.â
Ni-ki chuckled softly. âOh, I know.â
As the days turned into weeks, you found countless moments to continue your playful interactions. Whether it was competing over who could create the best potion in Professor Snape's class or seeing who could guess the most spells correctly in Charms, your friendship flourished, and the teasing evolved into something deeper.
One evening, as you both wandered through the castle after dinner, Ni-ki grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you. âHey, I have a question for you,â he said, his tone suddenly serious.
You looked up, curiosity piqued. âWhat is it?â
He hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes as if weighing his words. âWhatâs your favorite thing about Hogwarts?â
You thought for a moment, your heart racing slightly. âIâd have to say⌠the magic. Itâs all around us, in everything we do. But you know what? The people make it even better.â
He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into one of playful suspicion. âAre you talking about me?â
You laughed, rolling your eyes. âSure, letâs go with that.â
âGood choice,â he replied, smirking. âBecause I was going to say my favorite thing is how you make it feel less lonely here.â
You stopped, surprised by his sincerity, and for a moment, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, replaced by something more profound. But before you could respond, he playfully nudged you with his shoulder, breaking the tension. âBut really, we both know Iâm the best part of your Hogwarts experience.â
âFull of yourself, arenât you?â you replied, shaking your head, but you couldnât help the smile spreading across your face.
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As you sat in the bustling Great Hall, the chatter of students mingling with the clinking of cutlery filled the air. Plates were piled high with food, laughter echoed around you, and you were enjoying the lively atmosphere when a flurry of movement caught your eye. The owlery was busy today; several owls swooped in and out, delivering letters and packages to their respective owners.
You watched as your owl flew in front of you, dropping a letter and a small, beautifully wrapped gift. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught them both expertly, the soft rustle of parchment against your fingertips bringing a sense of nostalgia. You recognized the wrapping immediatelyâit was covered in shimmering blue paper, a telltale sign of a certain someone from Ilvermorny.
You scrunched your nose in distaste, knowing exactly who had sent it. A gift from Harrison, who had developed a notorious reputation for his over-the-top romantic gestures. You set the gift aside, hoping to forget about it for now, and turned your attention to the letter.
Unfolding it, you smiled as you recognized the handwriting of your friends back at Ilvermorny. As you read through the familiar banter and inside jokes, a warm feeling spread through you. Each message carried a piece of home, reminiscing about shared memories and moments.
The letter read:
Dear Y/N, We miss you like crazy! Itâs just not the same without you here, especially during the big Quidditch matches. Everyone keeps asking where you are, and we have to remind them that youâre off being a star at Hogwarts. We canât wait to hear all about your adventures, so make sure to write back! P.S. Harrison still hasnât gotten over you. You know how he is with those ridiculous gifts. We tried to tell him to stop, but he thinks youâll finally notice him this way. Good luck!
You couldnât help but laugh, shaking your head at the antics of your friends. Just then, one of your housemates, Clara, leaned over, pointing her turkey leg at the gift you had set aside. âArenât you going to open that?â she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
âNo,â you replied, glancing at the box with mild annoyance.
âOh well, donât mind if I do,â she declared, snatching the present before you could stop her.
âWait, Claraâ!â you started, but it was too late. She ripped open the wrapping, revealing a heart-shaped chocolate box adorned with a delicate ribbon.
âOoh!â she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. âThis looks amazing!â
âI wouldnât eat those if I were you.â
âWhy not?â she asked, tilting her head in confusion as she pried the box open, the rich smell of chocolate wafting toward you.
âThey probably have Amortentia in them,â you replied matter-of-factly, your expression serious.
Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical. âHow do you know?â
You leaned in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. âBecause the guy who sent that has put the potion in the treats before. I wouldnât trust it if I were you.â
She paused, glancing at the chocolates, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. âReally?â
âYeah,â you said, crossing your arms.
You watched as Clara set the box down, a look of mild disgust replacing her earlier enthusiasm. âThanks for the heads up,â she said, chuckling nervously. âI was really going to eat one of those.â
âNo problem,â you said, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having saved her from a potentially embarrassing situation. âHarrisonâs just trying too hard to win me over.â
âSounds like heâs got it bad,â Clara commented, glancing at the letter in your hands. âWhat else did your friends say?â
You chuckled, holding the letter up. âJust the usual. They miss me, and theyâre trying to keep me updated on the drama back home. Itâs nice to hear from them.â
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It started graduallyâfirst a few letters, then more frequent parcels from Harrison, each one wrapped with a level of detail that made it clear he was still determined to win you over. Every time an owl dropped something in front of you, your frustration grew. You had hoped that your move to Hogwarts would finally make him understand that you werenât interested, but apparently, Harrison hadnât taken the hint. Not after countless rejections, nor after the awkward conversations where youâd tried to make it clear that you werenât interested in him romantically.
Now, each letter and gift felt like a weight, dragging your mood down. Every time a package arrived, your heart sank. Today, in the courtyard, the annoyance had finally reached a boiling point.
Another letter had comeâthis time with a box of enchanted roses that sang love songs in annoying, high-pitched voices. You barely glanced at it before casting Incendio, watching the parchment curl and burn in your hand, the flames crackling as they consumed the letter. You stood there, arms crossed, muttering under your breath about how thick-headed Harrison must be.
"Another one, huh?" came a voice behind you.
You turned around quickly, startled by the voice, and found yourself face-to-face with Ni-ki. He stood there with his usual air of confidence, but you could tell something was differentâthere was a glint of concern in his eyes as he glanced at the charred remains of the letter in your hand.
"Youâve been doing that a lot lately," Ni-ki said, his voice low as he nodded toward the ashes. "Who keeps sending you these?"
You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "Itâs from this guy, Harrison," you admitted. "He went to Ilvermorny with me. Heâs been⌠persistent. Really persistent. I thought moving to Hogwarts would make him stop, but he just doesnât seem to get it."
Ni-kiâs expression shifted from casual curiosity to something more serious as he stepped closer. "How long has this been going on?"
"Years," you confessed, your voice quieter now. "Heâs been sending letters and gifts for a while. Iâve turned him down so many times, but he just doesnât listen. I thought leaving would be enough, but clearly, he doesnât know how to take a hint."
For a moment, Ni-ki was quiet. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a hard, focused look. His sharp eyes darkened with a seriousness you werenât used to seeing from him. âThatâs not okay,â he said, his voice firm. âHas he ever done anything else besides sending letters and gifts?â
You shook your head. âNo, just⌠this. Itâs annoying more than anything. But itâs getting worse. Every time I think itâs over, he sends something else, and itâs like I canât escape it.â
Ni-ki clenched his jaw, his hands tightening at his sides. "And you donât want anything to do with him?"
"Not at all," you answered without hesitation. "Iâve told him that so many times, but heâs just⌠I donât know. Stubborn? Or maybe he just doesnât care. Itâs like he thinks if he keeps trying, Iâll suddenly change my mind."
Ni-kiâs eyes narrowed, his protective instinct kicking in. "Heâs harassing you, Y/N. Thatâs not stubbornnessâthatâs ignoring your boundaries. You shouldnât have to deal with that."
You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. Youâd always seen Ni-ki as playful, and maybe a bit smug, but seeing him like thisâserious and genuinely concernedâthrew you off guard.
"Itâs fine, Ni-ki. Iâve handled it so far," you tried to reassure him, though even as you said it, you felt the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.
Ni-ki shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. He was tall, and the way he looked down at you with those serious, sharp eyes made your heart race. âItâs not fine, and you shouldnât have to deal with it alone. Heâs not respecting your space, and thatâs a problem.â
His protectiveness was unexpected but comforting. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, realizing that you didnât have to keep brushing it off as something small.
âListen,â Ni-ki continued, his voice softening but still laced with a steely edge. âIf he keeps this up, you need to tell someoneâMcGonagall, Dumbledore, anyone. But Iâll also make sure he doesnât bother you anymore.â
You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. âAnd how exactly are you going to do that?â
Ni-ki smirked, though it didnât reach his eyes this time. âLetâs just say I have my ways. If he keeps trying to reach you, heâll have me to deal with. And trust me, he wonât want that.â
You laughed lightly, though a part of you believed him. Ni-ki had always been protective, even in his teasing ways, but this felt different. He wasnât jokingâhe was genuinely upset at the thought of someone bothering you. And in that moment, you realized that Ni-ki wasnât just teasing or flirting anymore. He cared about you deeply, enough to step in and make sure you were safe.
âThanks,â you said quietly, feeling a little overwhelmed by how much his concern meant to you. âI appreciate it.â
Ni-ki reached out, gently taking your hand in his. âYouâre not alone in this, okay? If you ever need anythingâanything at allâyou come to me.â
You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spread through you. âI will.â
With one last look at the ashes of the letter on the ground, Ni-ki nodded resolutely. âGood. Because Iâm not letting this Harrison guy get away with thinking he can mess with you.â
You had no idea what Ni-ki had planned after learning about Harrisonâs persistent harassment. In fact, Ni-ki had been hard at work behind the scenes, determined to send a message that Harrison would finally understand.
It started with Ni-ki reaching out to your old friends from Ilvermorny. Heâd always been clever, resourceful even, and after hearing everything from you, he had a plan in mind. A letter from him had made its way to your Ilvermorny friends, explaining the situation and his idea. To his surpriseâand reliefâthey didnât hesitate to help. They were as fed up with Harrison as you had been, and they quickly agreed to assist Ni-ki in making sure Harrison knew it was over for good.
But there was one particular evening that made Ni-kiâs plan easier to executeâthough you had no idea how much youâd helped.
That night, youâd been studying in the library, trying to cram for an upcoming exam. But the weight of everything, the sleepless nights, and the stress of school had caught up with you. Without much thought, your head had gently rested on your open book, and soon after, youâd fallen fast asleep, your arms crossed on the desk.
Ni-ki had been lucky to find you in that state. He had wandered into the library to check on you, noticing you hadnât been around for a while. When he saw you peacefully asleep, your face resting on the book, a small smile spread across his face. He didnât hesitate to quietly grab a blanket, gently placing it over your shoulders. His movements were careful, not wanting to wake you, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching as you slept soundly.
His next move had been far more mischievous.
With a grin, Ni-ki pulled out his wand and, with a quick flick, summoned his camera from his bag. He moved in closer, leaning down beside you. His face hovered right next to yours, his lips gently brushing your cheek as he kissed you softly, snapping a picture at that very moment.
It was perfect. The picture showed Ni-ki as he kissed your cheek while you slept, completely unaware. And it was exactly what he needed to complete his plan.
Without a second thought, Ni-ki sent the photo, along with a very threatening letter, straight to Harrison. The letter was brief but left no room for misinterpretation:
Harrison, She isnât interested and never will be. Stop sending letters, gifts, or anything else. This is your final warning. From here on out, sheâs got someone looking after her. Do yourself a favor and back off, or things will get ugly.
The message was crystal clear, especially with the attached photo showing Ni-ki close to you, practically staking his claim. He knew it would rile Harrison up, but that was the point. There was no room left for Harrison to misinterpret anything now.
And after that, to your great relief, Harrisonâs letters and gifts stopped. You thought, maybe, he had finally understood that you werenât interested and had backed off. You hadnât given much more thought to it, just grateful that the ordeal was finally over.
It wasnât until you found yourself in the owlery one quiet afternoon that you learned the full truth. A letter had arrived from one of your friends at Ilvermorny. You smiled, opening it with excitement, eager to hear from them. But as you read the letter, your eyes widened in shock.
Dear Y/N, Hey! We heard about what Ni-ki did. That guy really knows how to handle things, huh? Harrison needed that wake-up call, and we were more than happy to help Ni-ki out. We're so glad you're not getting any more of those creepy letters. You deserve to enjoy your time at Hogwarts without that hanging over you. By the way, you looked adorable in that photo he sent. Ni-kiâs a keeper, just saying! Take care, and write back soon! Love, your friends.
You stared at the letter, your mouth slightly open in disbelief. Ni-ki had done what?
As you stood there, shocked, two photos slipped out of the envelope and fluttered to the ground. Bending down, you picked them up and examined the first one. It was a picture of Harrison sulking in class, his shoulders slouched and his expression defeated. You breathed out a sigh of reliefâhe had finally gotten the message. But when you turned your attention to the second picture, your heart skipped a beat.
The photo showed Ni-ki in the library, leaning down and kissing your cheek while you were fast asleep. Your fingers instinctively went to your cheek, where he had kissed you.
"Oh," you whispered to yourself, still processing the moment.
"Hey, Ilvermorny!" a familiar voice called from behind you.
You jumped, startled, and quickly turned to see Ni-ki standing at the entrance of the Owlery, a relaxed smile on his face. He must have just arrived, but his sharp eyes immediately noticed your expressionâand the photos you were holding. As he approached, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"Whatâve you got there?" he asked, though the smirk on his face told you he already knew.
You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your mind was still reeling from the image of him kissing your cheek. Ni-ki glanced down at the photos in your hand and chuckled.
"Guess he finally realized," Ni-ki said with a grin, nodding toward the first picture of Harrison. Then his gaze shifted to the second one, and his smirk softened into something more playful. "Ah, so you saw that one too, huh?"
You stood there, frozen for a second, your heart racing. "You⌠you kissed me while I was asleep?"
Ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his neck casually. "Couldnât resist. You looked too cute, and, well⌠I figured Harrison needed a clear message." He winked, his tone teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his words.
"And what if I had woken up?" you asked, trying to sound stern but failing as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.
"Then I wouldâve played it off and told you it was a dream," Ni-ki replied smoothly, his smirk growing wider. "But you didnât wake up, so⌠I guess youâll have to take my word for it."
You shook your head, half-amused and half-exasperated. "You're unbelievable."
"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, stepping closer until he was right in front of you, his gaze warm but mischievous.
"No," you admitted quietly, unable to keep from smiling. "It's not."
Ni-kiâs eyes sparkled, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging in the balance.
"So," he said after a beat, his voice softening. "No more letters from him, huh?"
"Yeah, no more letters," you confirmed, feeling the weight of that relief settle in. "Thanks to you."
Ni-ki shrugged, his grin turning softer. "I told you Iâd handle it. And honestly? Iâd do it again."
"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "Next time you want to kiss me, maybe let me be awake for it?"
Ni-kiâs eyes widened in surprise at your bold comment, clearly caught off guard. His usual confident smirk faltered as he stared at you, the realization of your words settling in. Slowly, a blush crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks and even the tips of his ears. You watched in amusement as the typically smug Slytherin boy, always so composed and quick with his teasing remarks, suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
Sensing his flustered state, you decided to push further. With a mischievous smile, you reached out and grabbed his green tie, giving it a gentle tug. He didnât resist, allowing you to pull him down until his face was close to yours again. The tie twisted around your hand as you toyed with it.
You glanced up at him, your other hand moving to brush his dark hair aside, revealing more of his sharp, handsome features. His breath hitched slightly at your touch, his eyes locked on yours, completely entranced. His gaze softened, and you could swear that if hearts could literally appear in someoneâs eyes, they would be in Ni-kiâs right now. He was utterly, completely captivated by you.
"You know," you began, your voice teasing as you let your hand slide down from his hair to his broad chest, your fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his robes, "for someone who's always teasing me, you sure do get quiet when the tables are turned."
Ni-ki swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure. But the blush deepened on his face, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to respond, only for no words to come out. You could feel the tension between you two building, his gaze never leaving your lips as he remained perfectly still, letting you take the lead.
"You look so cute like this," you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in just slightly, your lips hovering near his ear, "I didnât think Iâd ever see you blush, Ni-ki."
His breath hitched again, and you noticed his hands twitch at his sides, clearly resisting the urge to pull you closer. He was melting at your every word, at your every touch. You could feel it in the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world he cared to focus on right now.
"Iâ" Ni-ki finally tried to speak, but his voice came out shakier than youâd ever heard it. His usual cocky demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a boy who was hopelessly wrapped around your finger.
"Whatâs the matter, Ni-ki? Cat got your tongue?" you teased, your grin growing wider.
Ni-ki let out a shaky breath, finally regaining enough of his composure to smirk, albeit weakly. "You really like testing me, donât you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, though the blush on his face betrayed just how affected he still was.
You shrugged innocently, your hand still resting against his chest. "Maybe. You make it so easy."
He let out a soft laugh, finally reaching up to gently take hold of your hand that had been toying with his tie. He brought it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours.
"I think youâre the one whoâs going to be trouble," he said, his voice soft but filled with warmth, his blush still faint on his cheeks as he smiled at you. "But I wouldnât have it any other way."
He then leaned in even closer, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Your breath hitched, and almost instinctively, you bit down on your bottom lip, unsure of where this was heading. The playful banter that had filled the air moments ago dissolved into something much heavier, more intense.
Ni-ki's eyes lingered on your lips, and for a brief moment, the entire world seemed to fall away. The distant hoots of owls and the rustling of wings around you faded into silence, leaving only the sound of your breathing and his. His proximity sent a thrill through you, and you swallowed hard, suddenly feeling nervous under his intense gaze.
"Please..." Ni-ki whispered, his voice low and breathy, barely audible but enough to send a shiver down your spine.
You blinked up at him, feeling your chest tighten with anticipation. "Yes," you murmured, the word slipping out without a second thought.
That was all it took.
In an instant, Ni-kiâs hand came up to cradle your cheek, his fingers soft and warm against your skin. Then, before you could process it, his lips were on yours, soft yet firm, capturing you in a kiss that sent a shock of electricity through your entire body. The world seemed to stop for that moment as you melted into him, your heart racing as if it could burst from your chest.
His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded instinctively, letting go of his tie and slipping your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, slow and intoxicating, like it was something the two of you had been waiting for all along.
Ni-ki kissed you as though heâd been holding back for ages, his lips moving gently against yours, exploring, savoring. The intensity of the moment took your breath away, and you found yourself completely lost in him, every sense heightened as his scent, his warmth, and the soft press of his lips consumed you.
When he finally pulled away, you both stood there, faces inches apart, breathing heavily, neither of you speaking right away. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
"That wasâŚ" Ni-ki began, but he trailed off, his voice catching slightly.
"Yeah," you whispered, not needing him to finish. You knew exactly what he meant.
He brushed his thumb lightly across your cheek, his gaze lingering on your lips once more before he smiledâa small, genuine smile that made your heart flutter.
"Iâve been wanting to do that for a while," Ni-ki admitted, his voice low and rough with emotion.
You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Me too."
He chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with that familiar playful glint. "Guess I should thank Harrison for pushing me to finally make a move, huh?"
You rolled your eyes, but couldnât help laughing along with him. "Yeah, maybe. But donât tell him that."
Ni-ki grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. "Trust me, I wonât."
Just then, a loud hoot echoed through the Owlery, breaking the enchanting atmosphere between you and Ni-ki. You both turned around to see your snow-white owl, Yuki, perched on a wooden beam above you, her feathers fluffed up as if she were trying to make herself appear larger.
The way she stared at you both, with those big, knowing eyes, made you feel like she was judging the situation. You swore that if an owl could look smug, Yuki would have been the picture of it.
Ni-ki chuckled softly, breaking the tension as he glanced at your owl. "I think she approves," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he straightened up, brushing off the lingering awkwardness.
You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh as you crossed your arms, looking up at Yuki. "Oh, donât you start too," you said, feigning exasperation. "I already have enough pressure without you acting like my guardian."
Yuki hooted again, her head tilting slightly, as if she understood every word. It was almost as if she was telling you to go for it, to embrace the moment with Ni-ki.
âSeriously, though,â Ni-ki said, taking a step back, still chuckling at your owlâs antics. âIs she always this judgmental?â
You nodded, still laughing. âEvery time I try to have a moment, she swoops in. Itâs like sheâs a personal bodyguard or something.â
âMaybe she just knows you deserve the best,â Ni-ki teased, a hint of admiration in his voice as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. âI think sheâs just trying to make sure Iâm good enough for you.â
You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldnât help but smile. âWell, she has pretty high standards, so you better step up your game, Ni-ki.â
He smirked, the playful spark returning to his eyes. âChallenge accepted. Iâm up for anything if it means keeping her happy.â
âGood luck with that,â you replied, shaking your head playfully. âSheâs not easily impressed.â
Just then, Yuki fluttered down from her perch and landed on your shoulder, nuzzling her head against your cheek. You laughed at her affectionate gesture, and Ni-ki watched the interaction, amusement dancing in his eyes.
âLooks like you have a wingwoman,â he said, his gaze shifting between you and the owl.
You smiled, feeling a little shy under his gaze. âOr a winged guardian,â you corrected, running your fingers gently over Yukiâs soft feathers. âEither way, I donât think Iâll ever be able to sneak around with her watching.â
âGood,â Ni-ki replied, stepping closer again, his gaze earnest. âIâd rather have her around to keep an eye on things anyway.â
You felt your heart flutter at his words, the earlier tension bubbling back up between you two, even with Yuki perched there. The way he looked at you now, a mixture of admiration and mischief.
âLooks like youâll have to share me with Yuki,â you teased, nudging Ni-ki playfully with your shoulder.
He laughed, the sound warm and inviting. âI donât mind sharing, as long as I get my time with you too.â
#enhypen fic#enhypen#niki x reader#ni ki x reader#nishimura riki#niki imagines#niki fluff#enhypen riki#riki x reader#fanfiction#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#fanfic#enha#enha x reader#enha imagines#enhypen niki#ni ki#hogwarts au
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á´ đĄď¸ - VII - KARMA
MASTERLIST
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á´á´á´É´á´: 6.5K
á´á´ÉŞĘɪɴɢ: Feyd Rautha X Reader
á´Ęá´á´: Feyd-Rautha gets a bitter taste of his own medicine. His arrival on Arrakis is not all he hoped it would be with his lady. He learns she is far more than meets the eye and his desire for her is only heightened by her newfound agency. Feyd doesnt mind playing by her rules, so long as he gets lucky.
á´Ąá´Ęɴɪɴɢęą: NSFW, minors do not engage, sexually explicit content and violence.
The black and white hues of Giedi Prime blur as you sit in your chambers. Your chest rises and falls as people bustle around you. Pale women and men without hair dressed in black work efficiently to ride your chambers of every single personal touch youâve placed within. White noise plays in your mind as the events of your time here blur together. Sadness has turned into anger, and belonging into loneliness. It leaves you in a gray haze. Beyond the palace cisterns of water are loaded on to industrial ships, as well as several months worth of excessive provisions for Arrakis. You can't help but wonder if your new home will bring happiness and stability. If you and Feyd will reconcile, if things will get better. You hear the whispers. The Fremen lore is so powerful it seems to scare the terrifying brutal people of Giedi Prime. Itâs a fact that seems ironic to you. Feyd will have his work cut out for him, knowing how much he enjoys bloodsports you have little hope that heâll have time for you. Honestly, you're not even sure of what you want from him. A throat clears pulling you from your daze. Feydâs attendant holds a silver platter with a scroll on it. Instead of speaking you give him a bored look.
âFrom the na-Baronâ he says, only your heart doesnât flutter like it should.
Taking the scroll you read it out of mercy. Uncrossing your legs you lift yourself off the dining room table and step down into the sunken living room, then back up to the main doors. Feyd has requested your presence. A pod awaits and you enter before his attendants can help you in. Youâre still angry at him. Livid actually. There are no flutters of anticipation as you speed through the corridors. It takes several minutes before you arrive at a foreign wing of the palace. You're escorted into an elevator that ascends just as fast and as violent as all the others. Your heart begins to race a little, your senses become acute. You feel like a rat in a trap when the attendants stop following you into the dimly lit room. You tense hoping your abilities can be of service but a bright light can be seen in the distance. You try to listen for the sound of the Baronâs suspension device and cringe in anticipation of his scent - only it doesnât come. The air becomes light, with each step you find yourself breathing easier, the air is cool and light. As you get closer you see rich green foliage that goes against everything youâve ever learned about the industrial planet. Looking around you make note of the rich plant life, several of which produce deadly poisons but are beautiful nonetheless. Feyd materializes dressed in his regalia, a long floor length tunic that accentuates his shoulders and striking features. His full lips stretch into a smirk. Once youâve entered the strange room you see a table has been set elegantly.Â
Feyd-Rautha steps into your personal space and in spite of the magnetic chemistry between you, you step back. He catches you at your waist, not allowing you to move any further. Swallowing you refuse to cower and look at him with defiance. Flowers and a nice breakfast donât begin to account for the pain heâs caused you. Itâs like he reads your thoughts and lets you go. Feyd steps back swallowing, shame flashes across his expression in vulnerability as he tries to understand your cold reaction to his gesture. Heâd never put as much thought or time into anything for anyone before.Â
âNa-Baron, you requested my presenceâ you speak and Feyd cuts his eyes at you.
âBreakfastâ he says, omitting the truth that heâd gotten only a few hours of tortured sleep and felt convicted enough to seek redemption for his actions.
âI donât have an appetite, thank youâ you smile politely but Feyd knows well enough itâs insincere. He cannot feel the energy that usually accompanies the gesture.
âShould I call a physician?â Feyd asks.
âNo need, Iâve had my prognosisâ you comment looking at his rare meat. The iron rich scent still makes you a little queasy. More-so, now that you're upset with the na-baron.
âI was not made aware of any assessmentsâ Feyd comments.
âIâm sick of this planet and the people on it.â You speak recklessly. Surprise covers Feydâs expression. Youâd ever been so uncouth or cold towards him. He watches you turn, giving him your ass to kiss. Heâd have anyone else strung up for such insolence. He watches the swish of your step as you sashay away. It was a declaration of war, a death wish, a slight against people who would undoubtedly become yours in due time. Feyd-Rautha had never chased anything in all his years; he hunted, he stalked, he tracked. He was the predator and whatever he had set his sights upon was prey. Swallowing his pride he pursues you widening his stride. It only takes him moments to be at your side, your angry eyes slicing him with a gaze that levels him. Heâd never seen anything like it.
âMy Ladyâ he rasps, stopping you.
âMy Lord?â You respond indignantly.
You radiate a defiance unlike anything Feyd had never encountered. Indignity and a disregard for your own well being. Thereâd never been any guideline on how to handle you beyond his feelings and intuition. If his socialization would have it, he would have you begging for death in an hour. The mere thought of such harsh punishment has him shudder stepping back. Heâd been conditioned to respond to disrespect and defiance with brutality.Â
âWhat is your issue?â He snaps grabbing your hand.
âThere are no crowds, I am not required to performâ you snap. Clenching his jaw he lets your hand go.Â
âIs that all they teach at the academy, how to twist a person's words against them?â He snaps.
âIf you don't like your own words then maybe you should think before you speak!â you snap back.
âMind your temper, mind our childâ he snaps looking at your stomach.Swallowing you fight everything in yourself to withhold tears.
âLets not go tit for tat Feyd, I will be on the ship, I will play the part thatâs expected of meâ you respond. He says nothing more as you approach the pod.
âOutâ Feyd growls at the drivers, they disperse and you allow Feyd to get to your door. You donât thank him for getting in and he drives to the docks. You relax in the passenger seat and he steals glances slightly impressed with your anger. He wants nothing more than to touch you, to lay hands on your stomach but he doesn't want to add to your newfound rage.
âGuess I should be happy you feel safe enough to behave this terribly without fearâ he comments. âIt means you know I love youâ Feyd says instead.
âYou just donât treat me like itâ you respond and he makes a frustrated sound.Â
âEnoughâ he warns and you roll your eyes at him. The gesture is so flagrant he nearly loses control of the pod.Â
âNot even closeâ you respond as the vehicle comes to a stop. Leia is standing with your other staff. You get out on your own as you hear the drums begin for his unmistakable score. Turning back to him you cast him a final look as the crowd begins their chant.
âFeyd-Rautha
Feyd-Rautha
Feyd-RauthaâÂ
Nothing else needs to be said. So you make your way onto the ship feeling his eyes on you the entire way in. Your heart races feeling exhilarated. You feel powerful, you feel like you have agency for the first time in very long.
Petty squabbles have never been your thing, since childhood youâd been keen to let things go easily. Time with the ones we love is fleeting and no one knows that more than you. Still, you find yourself resentful of what transpired. Your desire was not to throw caution to the wind, or to openly defy the Baron. Your thoughts had been with Feyd, your actions born out of love and fear for his well being. You had no desire to delve further into the spider's web, and yet the Baron still had you trapped. You just wanted the days and nights to return to what they once were. With Feydâs insatiable appetite for you being at the forefront of his mind. You wanted to feed his physical desire for you, to satisfy him, to make his days easier. To ensure his cuts and bruises were on the mend to ensure the father of the child quickening in your womb was alright. His response to your love and care could not be so easily forgiven, no matter how hard you tried.Â
âYou must take your leave of me when we arrive in Arrakis. Take time for yourself, make friends, find someoneâ you smile. Your plight had become hers with a few exceptions. Leia reaches for your hand resting her head against yours as she scoots beside you.
âWeâre sisters, I will never desert you.â She promises and you smile.
âWeâre sisters, I will never rob you of your ambition or personal desiresâ you retort.
âNow that youâve had a taste of love my company is not enough?â She smiles, taking you in a hug.
âItâs just a different yearningâ you disagree. âIf things werenât so bad I could feel good. I could handle the distance but Iâm so angry with him and I know nothing is promised but Leia, I am seethingâ you confess closing your eyes.
âYou ought to be angry with him, going up to the Baron you were risking your life as much as he was and we know nothing of mindless customs. You meant no harm and he knows your heart is pureâ Leia says and you smile at her for her alliance.
âExactlyâ you nod.
âFeyd-Rautha is not known for being a rational or sensible man. His treatment of you is ill advised but for what heâs capable of, I donât think anyone can deny thereâs love there. No physical harm has come to youâ Leia defends and you roll your eyes at her sensibility. Youâd knowingly fallen for a monster, what could you expect. He hadnât been a kind, gentleman. He was a killer, a brutal man prone to torture and treachery. Heâd taken your maidenhead before marriage, he kept humanoid creatures as pets, the list of misdeeds were neverending, still you couldn't deny the love there.
âIf what Iâve done is unforgivable then why not do away with me? Give me a tea to end the pregnancy and return me to the academy?â You ask not understanding the harshness of Feydâs shunning. Feyd stops in the doorway, his acute sense of hearing trained to your discussion. Do away with you? Terminate the pregnancy and send you back to the academy? Had you listened to anything heâd said or paid attention to any of his actions? Anger surges through him again and he turns away heading to his own chambers. The thought of losing you too much, the thought of anyone else having you was too much. It was why heâd been upset in the first place. Your submission to his uncle. He was supposed to be the only man to bring you to your knees. You were never supposed to subject yourself, him, or an unborn child to that. He thought having you would end the obsessive thoughts, cool the fire within him, satiate his insatiable need but it had done the opposite. Therein lies the problem. Feyd-Rautha had never been able to control himself or hold back in any scenarios. Open defiance like what you had shown was a new concept for him. Other women would have never. Other women wouldnât have survived it. It wasnât so much that your acts were unforgivable, Feyd could never hate you long term but he had hated you in those few moments, heâd hated the image, what it represented.
Unsheathing one of his short blades, Feyd twists it into the table top as he ponders his next steps. He balances it on its point and then balances the blade rolling it between his fingers without cutting himself. Rising he turns to the cork wall in his chambers pulling out a drawer. Right now the board would be a sit in for the Baron. With each throw, blade after blade nicks the Baron. In Feydâs mind, heâd sliced the shield off his uncle's finger before it could be activated. Then heâd began slicing and carving up the man that had his na-baroness questioning the love he bore her. Feyd holds nothing back, letting it all out. His guards tremble at the door mistaking his plan of vengeance from a foul mood.
âNa-Baron, we will be descending in half an hourâ the attendant trembles, snapping him out of his dazed state. Feyd wanted nothing more than to drag you into the bathing chamber and place soap and a scrubber in your hands. He wouldnât say a word, youâd have to figure out what he wanted. He would make you clean every inch of him thoroughly as he watched. Your anger and the charged energy between you both add to your electricity and the danger of it all. He could feel it now as he stepped into the shower, your soft hands running soap along his chest, the admiration for his form in your eyes always did something to him. He hoped anger would never change that. Top to bottom, he would guide you to your knees only to have you test your own work. He would guide his already hard manhood into your mouth. Heâd speak for the first time asking you if itâs clean as he pushes it in so far you gag needing reprieve. Heâd use your defiance against you, it would be the perfect recipe for a violent orgasm. Heâd pinch one of your nipples to further his cruelty as you tried to undo him with your mouth. Heâd grab a handful of your hair for leverage, heâd lie and tell you it was the worst blowjob heâd ever received through closed eyes and gritted teeth. It would incense you, he knows it would, but you wonât get up and walk away, youâd somehow get even better rising to the occasion. The hatred for him in your eyes fuelling his desire for you. Your eyes looking back at him as you draw in your cheeks adding more suction. When he was close heâd push you away by the throat to avoid the defeat of coming everywhere. He couldnât grant you that victory with those defiant eyes. He could picture you turning to walk away upset and seeming unbothered and thatâs when he would crack. His heart would race as he swiped two fingers at your folds, closing his eyes with pride when he felt your honey oozing for him. Heâd put his dick where it belonged, burying it deep within you. Heâd be undone by all the angry tension leaving your face and body as you re-acclimate to him. Heâd steady you in the slippery bathing chambers thrusting hard. It would be quick, itâd been too long. Heâd have your back against the chamber walls pressing his weight into you as he empties his arousal into you. Heâd leave himself in, still hard and ready for more. That first kiss would be his apology, heâd get lost in it. There wouldnât need to be any words as he looked into your eyes dispelling any concerns about the status of his desire for you. Disconnecting would be a task but it would be his turn to wash you up. The people of Arrakis would have to wait for the na-baron and his intended to dismount from the ship. Heâd take your hand keeping you at his side so the people knew they had to answer to the both of you. On Arrakis you would be equals. He would teach you to keep your head held high. Heâd take his time making love to you a few more times that afternoon before going on his first raids.
Opening his eyes Feyd releases a firm grip from his manhood. The mere fantasy of you is far more powerful than the prospect of another woman. Ridding himself of his mess, he leaves the bathing chambers getting on his garments and then his armor. Unlike most he needed to cover himself under the powerful Arrakeen sun. You hear Feyd's strong stride before you see him. Turning you see the na-baron, he has the flush he has after heâs made love to you. Your heart skips, your stomach falls and you feel loss - heâd been with someone. Frowning you swallow the sting of his infidelity bowing to him in the company of the huge procession traveling with you.
The bay doors descend slowly to a flurry of whispers and celebration sounds. The heat is strong, your robes blow slightly in the ever so slight breeze that seems to bring more heat than reprieve. Taking Leiaâs had you step forward seeing the crowds. You go to take the discreet way onto the palatial grounds with the staff. Trying to remain calm in the face of the people about Feydâs disloyalty. You look out at the hooded people and begin stepping down like the rest of the procession. A firm hand takes your wrist. Feyd looks down at you. His face is somewhat obstructed by a face shield contraption. Leia stops letting go when she sees Feydâs hand around your wrist. To both of their surprise you snatch your wrist out of his grasp heading to follow the entourage. Feyd stands shocked allowing you to make several determined steps away before grabbing you by the arm this time. He presses the shield on his face making the screen go away.
âWalkâ he commands tilting his head in the direction of the people. Blind rage has you angry enough to openly defy him once more.
âGo with himâ Leia says telepathically. Swallowing your anger you adjust your robes and jewelry before turning to face Feyd. He holds a hand out for you to take it. You're so disgusted by his betrayal you cannot. Disgruntled Feyd grabs your hand before striding down the opening ship for onlookers. The reception is mixed, people shout different things, all respectful as far as you reckon. The strength of the sun mixed with the fire kindling in you is a dangerous combination.
âWhatâs the matter with you?â Feyd asks once youâve completed the long walk into the palace.
âYou donât careâ you grit. As the doors are closed behind you. Looking up you see the brown stone walls all around you. The attendants and staff are already more promising, not all of them are hairless and stark. Their eyes are warm and though there may be treachery in them you donât foresee the same imminent danger as in Giedi Prime.
âDisperse!â Feyd roars, dragging you into a room as people scatter. He closes the door behind you and you turn, shoving him back reaching for the door as he holds it shut above you. Turning your back is against the wall, Feyd stands over you with his hand pressed against the door above your head. He doesnât know whether to be turned on or murderous about your disrespect. Somehow your angry eyes are just as beautiful as your happy ones. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you stare back at him the tension thick between you.
âWhat?â You snap, stomping.Â
âIt must be the child that has you in this way!â He snaps with a clenched jaw.
âYou were with someone on the ship here. Donât lie to me, I know I can see it in your eyes, in your stance. Go to her and leave me beâ you snap, turning to the door but thereâs no knob and your strength isnât a match for Feydâs. When you turn he wears a smirk, losing it you shove him back for mocking you further. Chuckling he lets you take a few determined steps away.
âThereâs one exitâ he says, having you trapped. He undoes his armor and you wish you were strong enough to hurt him.
âThere was no one else, no one else just visions of you and my handâ Feyd says, stopping you in your tracks. You stare at him, heâd never been a liar thus far and had no reason to lie but⌠taking a deep breath you pause trying to sense if it's the truth or not.
âIâve already explained I need your love, I donât do substitutionsâ Feyd-Rautha says and his tone does not waiver. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment over your behavior. You curse yourself for the colorful display and rush for the door. Your shoes make noise on the stone floor, the halls are deserted, you just follow the path until Feydâs steps sound behind yours. When you reach the edge of the hall a few people look relieved to see you alive, Leia chief among them.Â
âAnything the lady wantsâ Feyd speaks before turning in the direction of his war council. The sooner he could eradicate the Fremen rebellion the sooner he could tend to the woman he found himself thinking the gods had fashioned just for him. The crazy outburst stroking new flames within him. Going against his better judgment Feyd follows you into your chambers and the staff clears out. You turn to face him. He must think youâre a weak minded, stupid, lovesick, silly woman. The smirk on his face tells you heâs enjoying every moment of this.Â
âKneelâ you tell him telepathically. You can feel resistance as he tries to decipher whatâs happening to him. Feyd-Rautha falls to his knees. His eyes are on yours as you close the distance between you. âI may have been on my knees but I never beggedâ you say once again, your words leave your mind floating into his. You see comprehension in his eyes when he realizes your mouth hasn't moved. âIt was never submission and if you opened your thick head and let me be there for you, you would know that! And then we wouldnât be at odds and you wouldnât have to have used your hand today. I wouldâve been happy to show my appreciation to you and to walk at your side. Now I want you gone from my sight.â Your message is conveyed. Feyd goes to speak, âSilenceâ you declare and his lips close. âStand and leave now, tend to your spice, finish your raid, leave me beâ you add, turning away from him again. You can feel the resistance but ultimately in this area you are stronger than Feyd-Rautha. He says nothing, getting on his feet and leaving.
Deep admiration for you swells within him, at your strength, power and prowess. Heâd been right about the gods.
âââ
Feyd-Rauthaâs ability to focus is what set him apart from his brother. Unlike Rabanne he made everything coordinated on live feeds. There would be an overwhelming use of force in sync, giving the Fremen little time to react. Heâd been tracking their movements and instead of wasting manpower he would use firepower to do as much damage as possible. He feared no one while out in the desert, unlike most he would not tire or dehydrate so fast. Heâd withstood trials in extreme heat before and practiced fighting in the sand. Looking at the triangulation on the live map he uses the heat cameras to ensure the areas are as populated as was reported before callously pressing the buttons. Watching from the safety of his ship he sees all of the attacks have been successful. All possible entrances were destroyed. He has his reserve force evacuate the known alternate refuges. Heâd had the doors re-wired to open allowing a large number of people inside before closing. Then those inside would be eviscerated in moments. The remaining living Fremen would be more desperate to crack, more pliable or more radical. Either way, there would be value in turning those few survivors. It would be consolation for all the restraint he required to deal with you. The success of his mission yields happy thoughts. Relaxing in his seat he considers his actions. In his preparation for Arrakis he had underestimated you greatly.
 Like one of his knives, the more beautiful the more deadly - the same was to be said for you. Your beautiful eyes were more piercing than a sword, looking as innocent as they do while yielding the ability to rob a man of his free will without a word. If it hadn't been for your blood within Feyd he never would have known it was you, as the sound of the voice in his head was his own. He felt the urge to kneel and do everything else you declared. Unlike with the late Bene Gesserit whose voice felt like a demand. The sound of shots being fired from the ship gets his attention as Fremen leaving the caves are killed.
âShould we go down and take hostages?â One of his men asks.
âNoâ Feyd says, not willing to risk his trip back home to you.
After a long day of fighting and bloodshed Feyd is satisfied by how things have gone. He could place harvesters down but he didnât want to lose any others. He wouldn't risk it. He had better alternatives. Unlike his brother Feyd could take his time, there was no need for great haste just success.
âReports of my betrothed?â He asks.
âShe has had her lunch and dinner. She and her ladies went out into the night markets to give the excess to the people, specifically the children. She was advised against it but - she did as she wished.â The Mentat says. Feyd knows the creature's allegiance is to the Baron.
âIf my betrothed requires advice Iâm sure she will request itâ Feys responds on your behalf.
âMy lord it is unsafe and ill advisedâ the Mentat says. Feyd is no fool; he knows the objective of your exploration is undoubtedly to cause him grief but that frustration would be his and no one elseâs. He slices the creature's throat without another thought and settles into his seat as the blood pools. Attendants carry the body out and silence falls on the ship.
Back on at the palace you feel far more settled and stable after a night enjoying the people and culture of Arrakis. Itâs been so long since youâve experienced any semblance of normalcy being at the academy and then on Giedi Prime. Your father had been a kind ruler and you hoped to be the same. Arrakeen mothers had been reluctant at first but then theyâd come willingly. The kids had smiled as they ate things theyâd never tried before, melons and other fruits not native to the desert. The party only grew in size as the people came to celebrate your kindness and arrival. You danced and laughed with Leia feeling as though you could breathe for the first time in so long. The blue eyed people sprinkled into the crowds brought you back to your visions but none looked like that woman watching you in a still suit. You return to your chambers with jewelry, silks and perfumes. Leia retires before youâre ready for sleep. You sit in the windowsill looking out into the nights shadows. You sense Feyd before you hear his soft steps. When you turn heâs in his night clothes, ready for bed. Unfortunately the technology in Arrakis is more analog and so keeping him out will take time. Youâre happy heâs back safe, in spite of everything.
You want nothing more than to sit in his lap and melt into his arms. But, Feyd-Rautha has taught you much of the pride a na-baroness is supposed to have. The emotional control required of you, the constant calculation and maneuvering is exhausting.
âCome to bedâ he commands, unwilling to submit.Â
âWhere are your quarters?â You ask and Feyd looks around. Frowning you raise an eyebrow. âItâs against custom, weâve yet to marryâ you remind him.
âYouâve chosen these rooms, there is no suitable room close enough to suit my needsâ Feyd explains.
âWell as much as custom is important to you it is to me and Iâd like you to take your leaveâ you comment taking the steps down from the window. Feyd smirks knowing he deserves your pettiness.
âCustoms rooted in the opinions of others have no bearing on our relationshipâ Feyd says without humor.
âSince when?â you ask
âNew place, new startâ he declares conveniently.
âWhy do you get the final say?â You ask as he closes in on you. Holding an arm out you keep him at arm's length. His eyes are on yours as he kisses the inside of your wrist. âWant to make it right?â You ask and he nods. âSleep in your quarters, leave me be tonightâ you tell him, getting a guttural growl in response.Â
âNoâ he steps in and you step back.
âYes. Then tomorrow; new place, new startâ you respond, maintaining the distance. Feyds features harden; he steps forward again and you step back. Itâs a battle of wills you're well aware Feyd could overpower you and your abilities only seemed to take when you were experiencing extremely heightened negative emotions. If Feyd pushed hard enough youâd crack wanting him as much as he wants you especially after this morning.
âFine,â he agrees. Smiling you let your hand down, frustrated he turns away annoyed at your excitement. He takes a few steps down heading to the door without a goodnight.
âFeyd?â you call and he turns. âWhat was I doing in your fantasy on the ship?â You tease, his frown turns to a smile and he shakes his head heading to the door.
âI was giving you the hard fucking I shouldâve started withâ he says with his back to you. Turning to face you he assesses your pensive reaction. Shrugging you turn your back to him heading back up to the window.
âMaybe you can work on earning those privilegesâ you comment and he smiles shaking his head, heâd make you eat your words.
âGoodnight my loveâ he rasps.
âGood night na-Baronâ you respond and he stops giving you another look. He gives you the opportunity to bid him the proper farewell and when it doesnât come he strides to you up the stairs. Your heart races as his eyes fall to your lips instead he stinks down to a squat pulling you to him. He places a kiss on your stomach.
âYour father Feyd-Rautha loves you dearly, so Iâll let your mother have her way this night. I want you to be strong and healthyâ Feyd says before standing. Itâs high-level manipulation. You both know it as you melt. Feyd has never been known to play fair.
âLove youâ he says again before leaving. You feel goosebumps pepper your skin. You lock the door behind him after palming your stomach. You step slowly back to your bedroom. Once in his quarters nearly five minutes away Feyd sits on his bed. It had been a foolish bit of architecture, clearly the previous occupants hadnât loved each other, what other reason was there for such impracticality. He would have that rectified the moment the spice was flowing again. Turning on his screen he looks in on you. His eyes gape at the sight. There you are in a red and gold set that makes you look ethereal, wilder than any dream or fantasy his mind could ever conjure.
You had purchased a new wardrobe from the market. Undergarments and clothing said to stoke passion and desire from your lover. Something about the racy garments brought your thoughts to Feyd. It was supposed to be a surprise for your reconciliation but playing as dirty as he was now would have to do. Knowing his voyeuristic tendencies you put it on quickly before he could get into his room. You picture the lust in his eyes as he sees you on screen. The bra fits your breasts so well, the new volume of them confirming your pregnancy to him, as did the new curve of your hips. Barely visible changes to anyone else, but Feyd studied every inch of your figure. He watches as your hands hover over all the parts of you he loves so much. Untying the short red sarong of sorts he sees a small undergarment that covers hardly anything. Nothing similar could be found on Giedi Prime and heâd brought nothing of the sort from the academy. Arching your back you continue your striptease emboldened by Feydâs own manipulation. You drag your hands up your behind the way Feyd does. You can feel his eyes on you as you pad to the bathing chambers. It's not as technical as the self cleaning mechanisms of Giedi but it will do. You part with your top before your bottoms baring it all unabashedly for Feyd your skin heating from the thrill of your seduction. You stand under the stream of water in view of the camera, facing him. You glisten, radiating confidence and seduction. He should be in there with you making his reverie come true. Itâs a great miracle he remains seated growing painfully hard as he watches you wash up. He wanted to know you as intimately as you know yourself again. It should be his hands on you and yours on him. How could he ever be so stupid to risk you? Only you would be so crazy, so daring to push him so close to the edge. Freeing himself of his pants he uses his early arousal for slip.
You put on a show for him knowing he needs it, knowing heâs watching. Adjusting yourself to the cameras you make sure he has the perfect view. Stepping from the shower to the air dryer you pad naked to your closet and pick out a sheer sleep set. Feyd can hardly stand not being able to touch you, he would let you be this once. Turning you lean against the intercom knowing it goes to him first looking at the camera he feels like your eyes meet his and he freezes mid stroke. Your eyes seem to be looking through him, your smirk all knowing as it curls into a smile. His breathing slows as you look to him coyly.
âWhite or lilac?â You ask looking up at the camera shattering his secret. His heart begins to race as it registers. The act had not been innocent but all for him. A tantalizing seduction you were taunting him with what was his and he yet he couldn't have.
âYou're a bad bad bad na-baronessâ he responds his voice is so guttural you know heâs pleasuring himself. Relaxing you smile nodding.
âSo youâd better be a very good na-baron, going forwardâ you respond.
âLilac your graceâ he says and you dress slowly for him. âYou donât know what-â
You cut him off by pressing the button to chip him out, âShows over Feyd-Rautha, sleep well my loveâ You say cutting off the light to leave him high and dry. As much as you want him you stand your ground as he had stood his. Smiling Feyd only feels arousal. It takes no time at all to finish himself off. His attraction to you was becoming dangerous, at this rate he would never stop having children. He would need you every night, sometimes multiple times a day. You were teaching him so much about partnership, showing him grace where heâd shown you pride and immaturity. You had never asked him for change, youâd never asked him for anything really. He felt the shame of his actions, he was going to be a father soon and the only place he should be is beside you in bed. It had been his plan for Arrakis. Feyd vows that it will be different come morning, he would hire the seamstresses to make multiples. He would begin the wedding preparations without the Baronâs consent. He would be the best lover and father. He would erase all ambiguity showing his love with the same unbridled abandon he showed his wrath.
The heated air rouses Feyd from an uncomfortable night's sleep. Coming to his senses slowly, you're the first thing on his mind. Checking the tablet he doesnât see you in your chambers. Frowning as he stood there was no time to set up any other parts with such high tech cameras. He freshens up before dressing in his typical attire attaching his blade belt. Order would need to be maintained and fear would be his best motivator. Pushing open his bedroom door thereâs no sign of movement. Looking around he heads to your quarters and stops at the scent of fresh blood. Running he sees dead guards littered all around the vicinity. Rushing to your door he finds evidence of forced entry and pushes it open to find the room heâd seen on the screen, there were no signs of struggle. Heading to your bedside as your heart races he sees the lilac set has been discarded.
Leia comes to mind. He rushes over to her quarters and finds her tied up and gagged. Her tears weaken Feyds knees and he stumbles back into the wall. Taking the blade he cuts the bonds.
âThey came looking for you, I heard footsteps but I couldnât get to her in time. We were communicating telepathically, and I was about to get help when men came in and did thisâ she explains fast with tears in her eyes. Feyd has the urge to end her life but he already had enough to apologize to you for.
âWas she hurt?â
âNo, there was a bag over her head. They were asking her for youâ Leia explains. Itâs the challenge of Feydâs life. Pushing through he heads to the control center only to find all the surveillance systems down and workers dead. It had been an inside job. Grabbing a tablet he goes into your room's cameras rewinding the footage. Youâre seconds away from pressing the intercom when they come in with guns pointed at you and his unborn.Â
âWhere is the Harkonnen scum?â youâre asked as you raise your hand in surrender. The guards repeat themselves and you go to scream only to have a black bag put over your head to silence you. They declare theyâre taking you for questioning. The men leave and three women stand around you ransacking your closet. Feyd watches as they strip you, dressing you and then putting a still suit over your garments. Rising his chest heaves when he realizes you're destined for the desert. Seeing red, he vows to turn the dunes of Arrakis red with Fremen blood.
______________________
Authors Note:
I now this was a long one, probably the longest part I've ever written. Thank you so much for reading it. What do we think of the Lady's payback? Feyd's attempts to redeem himself and his double dose of Karma? Remember those visions a few chapters ago? What do we think happens next?
If you enjoyed, like comment and reblog.
See you in the comments below, xoxo
______________________
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THE PRINCESS AND THE DRIVER PT.4 | MV1
an: and here we have the final part of this series! i hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!!
wc: 9.8k
warnings: mentions of death
part one | part two | part three |
Eight months had passed, and in that time, the princess had learned to hide the cracks in her carefully curated life. The early days of her relationship with Max had been a whirlwind of stolen moments, secret meetings, and late-night calls that left her breathless with excitement. But as time wore on, the reality of their worldsâtheir vastly different livesâbegan to close in on them.
Tonight, the palace was eerily still, its grand halls and corridors cloaked in shadows. The heavy curtains had been drawn tight, muting the vibrant light that usually flooded the rooms, as if the building itself sensed the growing tension. Every footstep echoed more loudly than usual, the soft rustle of servants moving with a palpable caution, their faces marked by an unspoken understanding of what was to come.
She sat in her private sitting room, staring blankly at the letter in her lap, her mind swirling with worry. The royal physicianâs words felt like a punch in the chest: The kingâs condition has worsened. We must prepare for all eventualities.
Her father was a shadow of the man he had once been. The strong, commanding presence that had filled every room now lay weak and frail, confined to his chambers, his illness advancing faster than any of them had anticipated. The doctors tried to remain optimistic, but she knew what was coming. Her future, once distant, was now closing in rapidly, and with it, the weight of the crown.
She placed the letter down on the table beside her and leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her temples to stave off the headache building behind her eyes. The room around her felt cold, impersonal, despite its opulence. The delicate tapestries and gilded furniture, once a source of comfort, now felt suffocating.
Her gaze flicked to the phone lying on the table. She hadnât spoken to Max in days. The silence between them had grown heavier with each passing hour. He was deep into the racing season, travelling across the Americas, and while they texted when they could, it wasnât enoughânot anymore.
A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.
âCome in,â she called, her voice quieter than she intended.
Lukas stepped into the room, his expression unreadable, though there was a softness in his eyes that spoke of his concern. He bowed slightly, always formal, even when they were alone. âYour Highness,â he said, his voice low. âThe advisors are requesting your presence in an hour to discuss the transition of duties.â
Her stomach twisted at his words. The transition of duties. A polite way of saying they needed to prepare for her fatherâs deathâand her ascension to the throne. She had always known this day would come, but she had imagined it years in the future. Now, it was looming over her, closer than ever.
She nodded, swallowing hard. âThank you, Lukas. Iâll be there.â
Lukas lingered in the doorway, his eyes scanning her face as if weighing whether to say more. âIs there anything you need before the meeting? Anything I can do for you?â
She shook her head, forcing a small smile that didnât reach her eyes. âNo, thank you, Lukas.â
He gave a respectful nod, though the worry in his gaze remained. He stepped back and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone once again.
The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. She stood and moved to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtain to look out at the gardens below. The once vibrant flowers seemed dull under the pale moonlight, the neatly trimmed hedges casting long shadows that stretched across the lawn like dark fingers.
Her eyes drifted toward the phone again, and this time, it buzzed softly. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Maxâs name flash across the screen. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering above it, before finally picking it up.
âHey,â she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
âHey,â came Maxâs familiar voice, though there was an edge to it she hadnât heard in a while. âIâve been trying to call you all day. Are you okay? I just got out of practice.â
She closed her eyes, the sound of his voice bringing a small wave of comfort, though it was laced with the frustration of their current situation. âIâm sorry. Things have been⌠difficult here.â
Max sighed on the other end. âYeah, I figured. Iâve been keeping up with the news. Howâs your dad?â
She felt her throat tighten at the mention of her father. âItâs not good, Max. The doctors arenât hopeful.â Her voice cracked despite her best efforts to keep it steady.
There was a long pause, and she could hear the faint hum of background noise from wherever Max wasâlikely a bustling racetrack, filled with the noise of mechanics and engines. âI wish I could be there with you,â he said finally, his voice softening. âBut Iâm stuck in Austin this week and Mexico then Brazil.â
âI know,â she replied, though the words tasted bitter. âI donât want to pull you away from your career. I just⌠wish things werenât so hard right now.â
Max let out another sigh, one filled with frustration. âI hate this. I hate that weâre both so busy, that I canât just drop everything and be there for you when you need me.â
Her heart ached at his words. She missed him terriblyâthe easy way they used to be before everything became so complicated. âI know,â she whispered. âBut this is what my life is now. I canât escape it.â
âI get that,â Max said, though his tone suggested otherwise. âBut it feels like Iâm constantly competing with your royal duties, and Iâm always coming up short.â
His words stung, not because they werenât true, but because they were too true. She was always rushing from one responsibility to the next, with barely enough time for herself, let alone a relationship. âI donât want you to feel like that,â she said, her voice barely above a whisper. âBut this is my reality, Max. Iâm not just a princess anymore. Iâm about to be a queen.â
Another silence fell between them, heavier than before.
âAnd where does that leave us?â Max asked finally, his voice soft, yet edged with uncertainty.
She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. She had been asking herself that very question for weeks now, afraid of the answer. âI donât know,â she admitted, her voice breaking. âI donât want to lose you, but I donât know how to make this work. My life⌠itâs not just mine anymore.â
Max was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more understanding. âI miss you, liefje. I miss us.â
âI miss you too,â she whispered, her chest tightening painfully.
They stayed on the line, the silence between them filled with all the things they couldnât say. The distance, the obligations, the roles they couldnât abandonâit all loomed over them like a shadow.
Max sighed again, though this time it was more resigned. âLook, letâs not make any decisions right now. Iâll be back in a couple of weeks, and we can figure it out then. We always do.â
She nodded, even though he couldnât see her. âOkay,â she said quietly. âWeâll figure it out.â
âTalk soon?â Maxâs voice had a hopeful lilt, but she could hear the uncertainty underneath it.
âTalk soon,â she echoed, though the words felt hollow.
When the call ended, she set the phone down and stared out into the dark garden, her heart heavy. She wanted to believe Maxâs optimism, but deep down, she wasnât sure if love alone was enough to bridge the gap between their worlds.
With a deep breath, she pushed the thoughts aside. Duty called. It always did.
She walked into the meeting room, her footsteps quiet on the marble floor, but the weight of her thoughts echoed loudly in her mind. The council was already seated, their serious faces reflecting the gravity of the conversation that was about to take place. The grand room felt cold and imposing, with its high, vaulted ceilings and walls lined with portraits of previous rulers, all of them watching her with what felt like judgmental eyes.
She took her seat at the long mahogany table, her heart heavy. The chair creaked slightly as she sat down, but no one flinched. They were all waiting for her, waiting to begin discussing the future of the kingdomâher future, their future. The advisors spoke in low voices, the conversation flowing around her in a tide of words she couldnât fully absorb. Something about succession, transitioning responsibilities, securing alliances.
But her mind was somewhere else. It was with Max, thousands of miles away, racing under the sun of some foreign country, oblivious to the turmoil in her heart. She could almost picture himâhelmet in hand, his face lit with the easy smile that had first drawn her in. The image of him felt like a lifeline, a reminder of the simple joy she had found with him, of the version of herself that wasnât weighed down by duty and expectation.
What if I just left? The thought crept in, unbidden. She imagined itâthe two of them, disappearing from the public eye. No more council meetings, no more royal obligations. Just her and Max, living a life where she could breathe, where her decisions didnât affect an entire kingdom. She pictured herself at the karting track again, the wind in her hair, the sound of engines roaring in the background, Maxâs laughter filling the air. The world felt so much lighter there.
A voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. âYour Highness, do you have any thoughts on the matter of the transition ceremony?â
She blinked, her focus snapping back to the meeting. She glanced around the table, the faces of her advisors all turned expectantly toward her. Her throat felt tight, and she could feel the weight of their expectations bearing down on her again.
âI... I think we need to consider all possibilities,â she managed, her voice steady, though her mind was still reeling from the clash of her desires.
She wasnât lying. She had considered all possibilities. Including the one where she didnât go through with this. Including the one where she abdicated the throne, passed the crown to someone else, and lived the life she dreamed ofâfree of these suffocating walls, free of the expectations that had been draped over her shoulders since birth. It would be so easy. So tempting.
But she knew, deep down, that it wasnât right. She couldnât just walk away. Her father, as ill as he was, had been a devoted king, sacrificing so much of his own life for the sake of the country. How could she abandon that legacy? And what about the people who relied on her? The citizens who saw her as their future? The weight of those thoughts pressed down on her like a stone.
Even Max had told her once, half-joking, that he admired how seriously she took her role. âI couldnât do what you do,â he had said with a laugh. âThereâs a lot of pressure in racing, but nothing compared to running an entire country.â
He was right. Her role wasnât just a title. It was a responsibility. One she couldnât turn her back on, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much the idea of escaping with Max tempted her in moments of weakness.
The conversation around the table continued, moving into details about diplomatic visits and the logistics of transitioning royal power. Her hands rested on the surface of the table, her fingers tracing the delicate wood grain as her mind wandered again, just for a moment.
She knew Max didnât fully understand. How could he? He came from a world of adrenaline, where decisions were made in split seconds and victories or losses were determined in the blink of an eye. But her world was one of tradition, of slow, deliberate choices, where every move had consequences that rippled through generations. She had tried to explain it to him once, but the look in his eyes told her that he couldnât grasp the magnitude of what she was saying. Not really.
And yet, she loved him. Loved him with an intensity that scared her at times, because it made her want things she knew she couldnât have. Things that werenât hers to take. She wanted to run to him, to leave all of this behind and lose herself in a life where they could be together, free from the constraints of their separate worlds.
But she couldnât. She knew she couldnât.
Her gaze drifted to the window at the far end of the room, where the palace grounds stretched out before her. Beyond the manicured gardens, beyond the walls of the palace, was the kingdom she would one day rule. A kingdom that needed stability, that needed someone strong to guide it through the uncertain times ahead.
And that someone was her.
âYour Highness?â
The voice of one of the advisors pulled her back to the present again. She turned her head, realising that they were waiting for her input once more. The room felt stifling now, the tension of their expectations thick in the air.
âI think we need to approach this with care,â she said finally, her voice firm, but her heart heavy with the weight of what she was saying. âThe transition needs to be seamless. For the sake of the kingdom.â
The advisors nodded, satisfied with her response. They continued their discussions, but her thoughts were no longer with them. They were with Max, with the life she had glimpsed but knew she couldnât fully embrace.
Maybe there would be a way to reconcile the two worlds one day. But for now, she knew she had to stay. The crown, heavy as it was, wasnât something she could just set down.
Her heart would have to wait.
The morning was unnervingly quiet when she awoke. There was no chatter from the staff outside her chambers, no clinking of trays or muffled footsteps through the grand hallways. Instead, there was a thick stillness in the air, like the palace itself was holding its breath.
She blinked slowly, the heavy velvet curtains blocking the early morning light from creeping into her room. Something was off. The kind of wrongness that sits at the pit of your stomach before you even know why. She sat up, her silk nightgown brushing against the cool sheets, and glanced around the room. Everything looked the same, but the silence⌠the silence wasnât right.
A soft knock at the door made her heart skip. It was gentle, too gentle, as though whoever stood on the other side didnât want to disturb the stillness.
âCome in,â she called, her voice quiet but steady.
The door opened slowly, and Lukas stepped into the room. His usual composed expression was strained, his eyes heavy with something that made her heart sink instantly. He closed the door behind him, moving with a kind of deliberate calm, as if he were trying to soften the blow of whatever news he had brought with him.
"Lukas?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the rising fear inside her.
He didnât speak at first. He simply stood there, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes soft but filled with an unmistakable sadness. For a moment, she thought she might still be dreamingâtrapped in some half-awake nightmare that didnât feel real. But the look in Lukasâs eyes grounded her in reality.
She didnât need him to say it. She knew.
Her heart stilled. âIs it⌠is it my father?â
Lukas lowered his head, exhaling slowly before lifting his gaze to meet hers again. âIâm so sorry, Your Highness. The king passed during the night.â
The world seemed to shift beneath her feet. Her breath hitched in her throat, her hands tightening in the fabric of her blanket as if trying to anchor herself in place. She had known this was coming. The doctors had warned them that it was only a matter of time. But no amount of warnings, no gentle words of preparation, could have braced her for this moment.
She felt hollow. Empty. Her fatherâthe man who had been her rock, her guide, the unshakable force behind the kingdomâwas gone.
âWhen?â she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lukas stepped closer, his expression never wavering from that quiet empathy. âEarly this morning. Just before dawn. He passed peacefully, in his sleep.â
Her chest tightened. Peacefully. That was supposed to be some kind of comfort, wasnât it? But it wasnât. Not to her. Her father was gone, and all the peacefulness in the world couldnât bring him back.
For a long moment, she didnât move. She couldnât. Her mind was racing, but her body felt paralyzed, like she was stuck between the need to scream and the need to collapse.
Lukas knelt by her side, his hand resting gently by her side. âYour HighnessâŚâ
She didnât respond at first, her gaze fixed on the far wall as if trying to process what she had just heard. Her throat felt tight, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. The words Lukas had saidâthe king passedârang in her ears like a bell, over and over again.
âI thought Iâd have more time,â she murmured, more to herself than to Lukas. âI thoughtâŚâ Her voice broke. âI thought heâd stay longer.â
Lukasâs face softened further, and for the first time in their years of knowing each other, he didnât maintain his formal distance. He reached out and took her hand, offering the only comfort he could in this moment of unimaginable grief. âNo one is ever ready to lose someone they love.â
She looked down at their joined hands, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The weight of everythingâthe crown, the kingdom, her fatherâs legacyâbegan to settle onto her shoulders, heavier than ever before. She had always known she would take on this role, but she never imagined it would feel like this.
âI⌠I donât know if I can do this,â she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain. âWithout him, I donât know if Iâm ready.â
âYou are,â Lukas said softly but with conviction. âYou are stronger than you know. The king believed in you, and so do I.â
She swallowed hard, tears spilling over her cheeks, her hand gripping his like a lifeline. Lukas had always been thereâher protector, her confidantâbut in this moment, he felt more like a brother, someone who understood the depths of her pain without needing to say a word.
She took a shaky breath, trying to collect herself. She had to be strong. Thatâs what her father had always taught her. The kingdom needed her now more than ever, and there was no room for weakness. No room for hesitation. But the idea of facing it allâwithout her father by her sideâfelt unbearable.
âI donât know how to say goodbye to him,â she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lukasâs eyes shimmered with his own emotion, though he kept his composure. âYou donât have to say goodbye just yet,â he said gently. âYouâll have time. But right now, the kingdom needs you, angel.â
Her breath hitched at the sound of her family nickname. He never called her thatânever. It was always âYour Highness,â always formal. But in that moment, hearing that name spoken with such care, she felt a flicker of strength deep inside her. A reminder of who she was. Of who she had to be now.
She nodded slowly, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. She had to face this. She had to step into the role that was now hers, even though it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on her chest.
âWhen do they expect me?â she asked, her voice steadier, though still fragile.
âTheyâll be gathering soon,â Lukas replied. âThe council will want to discuss the next steps. But you donât need to rush, angel. Take the time you need.â
She shook her head, already pushing the blankets off her lap and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. âNo. I canât delay this. Theyâre waiting for me.â
Lukas stood, watching her with quiet respect as she moved across the room, her steps slow but determined. He knew better than to argue. She was the queen now, and he would follow her lead, even in her grief.
As she reached for her dressing robe, her hand trembled, but she forced herself to keep moving. Her fatherâs death felt like the end of everything she had known, but she couldnât let herself fall apart. Not now. Not with so much at stake.
But as Lukas turned to leave, giving her privacy to get ready, her voice stopped him.
âLukas?â she called softly, her throat tight.
He paused at the door, looking back at her with patient eyes.
She swallowed hard, tears filling her eyes once more. âThank you. For being here.â
Lukasâs expression softened, and he gave a small nod. âAlways.â
With that, he left her alone in the quiet room, the weight of her new reality settling heavily around her. She stood there for a moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looked the sameâdishevelled hair, tear-streaked cheeks, red-rimmed eyes. But she wasnât the same.
She wasnât just a princess anymore.
She was the queen.
And no matter how much she wished she could run to Max, to disappear into a life where this kind of pain didnât exist, she knew she couldnât. Her place was here, with her people. It always had been.
With a deep breath, she wiped her tears once more and began preparing herself for the hardest day of her life. She sat herself in front of her mirror, her hands trembling slightly as she fastened the last button on her mourning dress. The black fabric clung to her skin, a stark reminder of the weight she now carried. She could hear the faint murmur of voices from the hallwayâpreparations for the day aheadâbut it all felt distant, like she was floating in a fog of disbelief.
She couldnât believe he was gone. Her fatherâthe man who had always been larger than life, even in his sicknessâwas gone. The reality of it still hadnât fully settled in, and every breath she took felt shallow, tight, as if the grief itself had taken residence in her lungs.
A soft knock on her door broke through her thoughts. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and her mother stepped quietly into the room. The Queen âor rather, soon to be Dowager Queen âwas the picture of regal composure, dressed in black silk, her hair neatly swept back. But there was a fragility in her eyes, a sadness that she wore beneath the surface.
She stood slowly, feeling the familiar ache of tears she had forced back all morning. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room was filled with the unsaid, the emotions too heavy to name. But then, without a word, her mother crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
She didnât realise how much she needed it until the warmth of her motherâs arms was around her. She collapsed into the embrace, burying her face in her motherâs shoulder as the tears finally came. Quiet, stifled sobs, muffled against the fabric of her motherâs dress. Her mother held her tightly, her hand smoothing her hair in a soothing gesture she hadnât felt since she was a child.
âIâm so sorry, Mama,â she choked out between breaths, feeling the guilt welling up with her grief. Guilt for not being able to save him, for not being ready to take his place. âIâI donât know if I can do this.â
Her mother pulled back just enough to look at her, cupping her tear-streaked face in her hands. Her motherâs eyes were red, but there was a strength in them, a deep well of faith that steadied her trembling heart.
âYou can, my love,â her mother said softly, her voice unwavering despite the sadness etched in every word. âI know this feels unbearable now. But you are ready. More ready than you think.â
She shook her head, blinking back more tears. âBut what if I fail? What if I canât live up toââ
Her mother cut her off, her voice gentle but firm. âYou wonât fail. Your father believed in you. He knew you were destined for this, and I believe it too. You have his heart, his strength, and more than that, you have your own wisdom. The wisdom of someone who understands the world in a way he couldnât.â
Her breath hitched as she stared into her motherâs eyes. She wanted to believe her, wanted to hold onto that certainty, but doubt clawed at the edges of her mind. âBut Iâm not like him. Iâm not sure Iâm strong enough to rule this country.â
Her motherâs lips curved into a faint, sad smile as she gently wiped away her tears with her thumb. âNo one is like him. Your father was unique. But the strength you need doesnât have to look the same as his. You have your own kind of strength, darling, and thatâs what this country needs now.â
The room seemed to fall silent again, save for the sound of their breathing, the tension of the day settling around them both. She stared at her mother, searching for any crack in her confidence, but she found none. The Queen had been through this before. She had watched her own husband rise to the throne, and now she was passing that same responsibility to her daughter.
Her motherâs hands moved to clasp her own, squeezing them tightly. âIâm ready to become the Dowager Queen, angel,â she said, her voice soft but steady. âIâm ready to step aside because I have complete faith in you. The only person who can lead this kingdom as well as your father did... is you.â
Her breath hitched. The words hit her harder than she expected. She had spent so long doubting her readiness, questioning whether she could ever be the leader her father was, that she hadnât allowed herself to see that others believed in her. That her motherâwho had stood beside her father through every challengeâbelieved in her.
âI canât do it without you,â she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her mother smiled gently. âYou wonât have to. Iâll always be here, by your side. But this is your time now, darling. The country needs you.â
She swallowed, her throat thick with emotion. Her mother's unwavering belief in her felt like a lifeline, pulling her up from the depths of her fear. Slowly, she nodded, more to herself than to her mother. She had no choice but to be strong nowâfor the country, for her fatherâs legacy, and for the people who were looking to her for guidance.
Her mother leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. âYou are more than capable, my love. You were born for this. And when you step into that room today, theyâll see it too.â
For a long moment, they stayed like that, holding each other, sharing their grief in the stillness of the morning. She felt the warmth of her motherâs strength seep into her, and she let herself draw from it, her resolve beginning to harden beneath the surface of her sadness.
When her mother finally pulled away, she felt steadier. The grief hadnât left her, and she knew it never fully would, but the weight of it felt more bearable. She had to carry it now, along with everything else. But she wouldnât be alone.
As she turned to leave the room, she paused at the door, her hand resting on the frame. âDarling?â she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet wisdom.
She looked up, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. âYes?â
âRemember this,â her mother said, her gaze filled with love and pride. âYou donât have to be perfect. You just have to lead with your heart. Thatâs what your father did, and itâs what will make you a great queen.â
She wasnât just a daughter anymore. She wasnât just a princess. She was the future of the kingdom.
âThereâs one more thing,â her mother said softly, before stepping out of the room.
She tilted her head, waiting.
âYou need to tell him,â her mother said gently.
Her heart skipped. âMax?â she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Her mother nodded. âYes. Heâs been in your life long enough to deserve to know the truth about what youâre going through.â
She looked away, chewing her lip. âI donât know, Mama. He... he has his own life. Heâs busy with Formula One. I donât want to burden him with all of this. Itâs too much.â Her voice faltered as she spoke, the idea of leaning on him feeling both comforting and terrifying.
Her mother stepped closer, her presence warm and grounding. âDarling,â she said softly, placing a gentle hand on her daughterâs shoulder, âyou need someone in your corner who isnât Lukas, and who isnât me. You need someone who can be there for you, not just as the future queen, but as the woman you are. Max could be that person.â
She felt her throat tighten at her motherâs words. She knew, deep down, her mother was right. But admitting that she needed Max meant admitting her own vulnerabilityâand that was something she hadnât done in a long time.
âWhat if he... doesnât understand?â She asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
Her motherâs expression softened even more, a small smile pulling at her lips. âFrom what Iâve seen, he already understands more than you give him credit for. And if he truly cares for you, heâll be there. You just need to give him the chance.â
She nodded, but the hesitation remained. She felt torn between the duties of her crown and the need for something that felt real, something that wasnât bound by the weight of royal expectations.
Her mother brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. âItâs okay to let someone in, sweetheart. You donât have to carry all of this alone.â
For a long moment, she didnât respond. Her motherâs words settled over her, both soothing and unsettling, as if she were being asked to make a leap she wasnât sure she was ready for. But beneath the uncertainty, a small part of her yearned to reach out to him, to let him inâif only because the thought of facing this without him felt lonelier than she could bear.
Her mother gave her one last look, one filled with love and confidence. âThink about it,â she said softly. âBut whatever you choose, rememberâyouâre not alone.â
With that, her mother kissed her forehead and quietly left the room.
She stood there, frozen in place, her mind swirling. She knew what she had to do, but the fear still gripped her. She crossed the room to her bedside table, where her phone lay charging. She picked it up, her fingers brushing the screen, and instinctively unlocked it.
Maxâs name stared back at her in the text thread. There were a few unread messages, one from earlier in the week, asking how she was. Another a few days before that, checking in on her. She hadnât responded to either.
Her thumb hovered over his name, the familiar flutter in her chest both comforting and suffocating. She wanted to tell him, wanted to lean on him like her mother had said, but a part of her still hesitated. What if this was too much? What if the weight of the crown pushed them apart even further?
She sighed and locked her phone again, placing it gently back on the table. Not yet. She wasnât ready.
As she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the darkened screen, she let out a long, shaky breath. Her heart felt heavy with the decision she knew was coming.
But for now, she couldnât do it. Not yet.
It was time to face the council. It was time to step into her role as queen.
The next few days blurred together in a whirlwind of meetings, press conferences, and preparations for the coronation. The throne room, once a place of regal splendour, felt like a cage, the high ceilings looming over her as if they were pressing down on her spirit. Each morning, she found herself sitting at the long, polished table in the council chamber, flanked by advisors and ministers, their discussions echoing around her like the distant tolling of a bell.
The council members had officially announced her ascension to the throne to the country the day before, and the press had been relentless, covering every angle of her impending coronation. âA new era,â they called it, but all she could feel was the weight of expectation pressing heavily on her shoulders. She had always known this moment would come, but the reality of it settled over her like a storm cloud, darkening the sunniest of days.
As she sat in the meetings, she tried to focus on the conversations swirling around herâthe budget reports, the upcoming legislation, the various projects and initiatives they wanted her to endorse. But her mind often drifted, the words fading into a dull hum as she stared blankly at the documents in front of her. She could hear snippets of conversation, the concerns about the economy, discussions about trade relations, and plans for the upcoming public addresses, but her heart wasnât in it.
What pulled her focus away was the nagging thought of Max. She had kept her distance, thinking it would be easier for him. But each time her phone buzzed, every time she saw a glimpse of Formula One on television or the news, she felt the ache of wanting to reach out to him. Heâd won his first race and as much as she wanted to congratulate him, she couldnât. They had shared something specialâa connection that felt genuine and freeing, and she couldnât shake the feeling that she was losing that by hiding.
In the afternoon meetings, as the minister of agriculture outlined his proposals, she caught herself staring at the ornate clock on the wall, its hands ticking relentlessly forward. Time was slipping away, and she was losing the grip on everything that had felt so real only a week ago.
âYour Highness?â The sound of her name broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find Lord Harrington, the lead advisor, peering at her with concern. âWe need your input on this initiative. Itâs vital to our agricultural sustainability moving forward.â
She nodded, forcing her mind to clear. âOf course,â she replied, trying to summon the confidence she was known for. She scanned the proposal quickly, her eyes catching on various points, but nothing resonated with her. âI think we should explore more sustainable options, perhaps partner with local farms to promote organic practices.â
The room buzzed with murmurs of approval, and she felt a flicker of relief that she hadnât completely lost herself in the weight of her responsibilities. She had to remember that there was a reason she was chosen for this role; she had the ability to lead, to inspire change. But with every discussion, she felt more like a pawn than a queen.
As the week progressed, the relentless pace of preparations for her coronation only intensified. Staff members rushed around the palace, organising floral arrangements, selecting ceremonial attire, and finalising the guest list for the grand event. Each detail was scrutinised, each decision weighed against the legacy her father had left behind.
She spent late nights poring over documents, trying to prepare herself for the monumental shift that was about to happen. It felt surreal, as though she were watching someone elseâs life play out on a screen. The days bled into one another, and the excitement of the upcoming ceremony was overshadowed by the persistent thrum of anxiety that buzzed beneath her skin.
Amidst the chaos, she sought solace in her motherâs company. Her mother seemed to understand her unspoken fears, providing a calming presence in the midst of the preparations. They spent hours going over the details, discussing speeches and strategies, and every time they stood together in the mirror, she felt her resolve strengthen just a little bit.
âRemember, this isnât just a ceremony,â her mother reminded her gently one evening as they were fitting her coronation gown. âItâs a declaration of your strength and your commitment to the people. Youâre not just stepping into your fatherâs shoes; youâre creating your own path.â
She nodded, though a small part of her still felt like she was stumbling in the dark. But every time her mother spoke, she felt a flicker of hopeâa reminder that she didnât have to carry this burden alone.
On the day before the coronation, she sat at her desk in the late afternoon, glancing out the window at the sprawling gardens below. The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting golden rays that danced over the manicured lawns. She could hear the distant sounds of celebration and preparation from the town below, where the citizens were already gathering for the festivities. Yet, in the heart of the palace, she felt completely isolated.
She picked up her phone, her heart racing as she scrolled through her contacts. Maxâs name was there, tantalisingly close, but still she hesitated. The fear of pulling him into her world, of exposing him to the chaos that now filled her life, held her back.
âWhat if he doesnât want this?â she murmured to herself, feeling the weight of the decision hang in the air. âWhat if he thinks Iâm just a royal duty?â
But then she remembered her motherâs words. She needed someone in her corner, someone who understood the real her, not just the princess or the future queen.
With a deep breath, she pressed his name and hovered over the screen, fingers poised to type. Before she could talk herself out of it again, she began typing a message.
I miss you x
The morning of the coronation was uncharacteristically quiet in the grand palace, with only the soft rustle of silk and the gentle chirping of birds filtering through the open window. She lay in bed, her heart racing, thoughts swirling like the delicate clouds above. Today was monumental, yet a profound emptiness echoed in her chest, overshadowed by the grief of her fatherâs recent passing. She hadnât slept well, the weight of expectation pressing down on her as the sun rose, illuminating the ornate details of her chamber.
Just as she was about to pull herself from the tangled sheets, a soft knock sounded at her door, breaking the silence. Before she could respond, the door creaked open, revealing Lukas, a mischievous glint in his eye.
âGood morning, Your Highness,â he said, his voice playful. âYou might want to hurry up; the world is waiting.â
âLukas,â she replied with a weary smile, âIâm not in the mood for your antics today.â
But he stepped into the room, a conspiratorial smile spreading across his face. âI have a surprise for you.â
Her curiosity piqued as she raised an eyebrow. âWhat sort of surprise?â
âJust wait here,â he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. With a swift movement, he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Moments later, the door swung open again, and her breath caught in her throat. There, standing in the threshold, was Max, his familiar silhouette framed by the soft morning light.
âWhat are you doing here?â she blurted out, her heart leaping into her throat. âYou have a race tomorrow!â
Max stepped closer, an easy confidence radiating from him, but there was a serious glint in his eyes. âI told them I sprained my wrist,â he said, his voice low, almost intimate. âI needed to be here for you.â
A rush of emotions washed over herârelief, joy, and a deep longing she hadnât realised had grown so potent in his absence. âYou shouldnât have done that,â she said, her voice barely above a whisper, caught between astonishment and gratitude. âYou have responsibilities, Max.â
âI know,â he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, âbut I couldnât bear the thought of you facing this day without me. Youâre about to become queen, and I want to be here to support you, to remind you that youâre not alone.â
Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. Time seemed to pause as he leaned in, and the world outside faded away. The moment their lips met, it ignited a spark that surged through her body, overwhelming and electric. It was as if the tension of all their missed moments collided in that kiss, filling the space between them with heat and urgency.
She melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the warmth and familiarity of his embrace. Every worry about her duties, the impending coronation, and the expectations of the kingdom faded into oblivion. All that mattered was Max, his presence igniting something within her that felt undeniably right.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, she searched his eyes, both exhilarated and terrified by the intensity of the moment. âWhat if they find out?â she whispered, her heart still racing.
Maxâs expression softened, a playful smile tugging at his lips. âLet them. Iâm not afraid. Iâd rather face the world with you than race without you in my thoughts.â
She shook her head, unable to suppress a smile of her own. âYouâre reckless, you know that?â
âOnly for you,â he replied, his tone sincere, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter.
âBut what if they fire you?â she asked, her voice a mixture of concern and disbelief. âYouâve worked so hard to get where you are. You canât just throw it all away.â
Maxâs expression softened, his hands still cradling her face, grounding her. âLiefje,â he said earnestly, âI want to leave Formula One. I want to be by your side.â His tone was steady, unwavering. âIâve never felt as happy as Iâve been around you. Racing doesnât compare to what we have. I canât remember a day when racing made me feel what you make me feel. Iâve won championships. Someone like you doesnât come around more than once.â
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and dreams. She felt her heart flutter, caught between disbelief and overwhelming emotion. âBut Max, this is your passion. Youâve dedicated so much of your life to it,â she insisted, a part of her unwilling to let him walk away from his dreams.
âIt was my passion,â he replied, his voice low and sincere. âBut now⌠now it feels different. Being with you, knowing youâre stepping into your role as queen, that makes me want to change everything. I want to support you, not just as a driver but as someone who stands by your side through everything.â
Her heart swelled at his words, the tenderness in his gaze making her momentarily forget the looming challenges of her new position. âI donât want to hold you back, though,â she whispered, biting her lip, torn between the thrill of their connection and the reality of their worlds.
Max stepped back slightly, his hands dropping to her shoulders. âYouâre not holding me back. Youâre the reason I want to be more than just a racer. Iâve been racing for trophies, for accolades, but they all feel hollow compared to what we have.â He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to lay his heart bare. âI want a life that includes you, and Iâm willing to fight for that. I canât do this without you, schatje.â
The sincerity in his voice tugged at her heartstrings, and she felt a rush of warmth at his willingness to sacrifice so much for her. âYou really mean that?â she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
âMore than anything,â he replied, stepping closer again, their bodies almost touching. âIâm not asking you to choose between your duty and me. I just want you to know that Iâll always be here, whatever you decide.â
A lump formed in her throat as she considered his words, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The thought of him giving up his career was both beautiful and terrifying, and she couldnât shake the fear of how their worlds might collide. âBut⌠what will people say?â she murmured, looking down at their intertwined hands.
Max lifted her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. âLet them talk. This is our lives, engeltje. Youâre stepping into a new role, and I want to be a part of that. I want to support you in every way I can. Together, we can figure it out.â
Tears pricked at her eyes as the enormity of his offer washed over her. âItâs just⌠so much,â she confessed, feeling vulnerable yet uplifted by his presence. âWhat if Iâm not ready for this? What if I fail?â
Maxâs thumb brushed gently across her cheek, wiping away a single tear that had escaped. âYouâre stronger than you realise,â he said softly. âIâve seen it in you. Youâre going to be an incredible queen, and I want to be there, cheering you on, not from a racetrack, but right by your side.â
In that moment, she felt a shift within herself. The weight of her fatherâs legacy and the impending coronation felt a little less daunting with Maxâs support. The uncertainty remained, but so did the flicker of hope. She could see a future where they navigated the complexities of her role together, rather than apart.
As they stood wrapped in each otherâs embrace, a sudden playful thought crossed her mind, lightening the momentâs intensity. She pulled back slightly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. âYou know there is a protocol for this. Youâre meant to propose before you quit everything in your life just to sit beside me.â
Maxâs eyes widened with a mix of surprise and amusement, a slow grin spreading across his face. âOh, is that how it works?â he said, feigning innocence. Then, with a determined glint in his eyes, he let go of her waist, dropping to one knee on the plush carpet of her chamber.
She gasped, her heart racing as he put his hands back on her waist, anchoring himself in place. âMarry me then, princess,â he said, his voice low and sincere, though the absence of a ring hung in the air between them like an unfinished sentence.
A rush of emotions flooded through herâjoy, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of love. Her heart swelled as she looked down at him, the man who had come into her life unexpectedly and changed everything. This was a moment she had never anticipated, yet it felt so profoundly right.
âMax,â she said softly, her voice a mixture of excitement and apprehension. âYou donât have a ring.â
âWho needs a ring?â he countered with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief. âIâm pretty sure I can make do without one for now.â He looked up at her, sincerity radiating from him. âWhat matters is that I want to spend my life with you, however we make that happen.â
She felt her heart flutter at his words, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten. âThis is⌠wow, unexpected,â she said, her smile growing wider as she tried to process the enormity of what was happening. âAre you really sure?â
Max nodded earnestly, his gaze unwavering. âAbsolutely. Youâre it for me, schatje. Thereâs no one else Iâd rather have by my side. I want to build a future with you, no matter what it looks like.â
His sincerity warmed her heart, and she felt a rush of affection surge through her. âYouâre serious, arenât you?â she said, her voice breathy and filled with awe. âYouâd give it all up for me?â
âWithout hesitation,â he replied, the weight of his promise hanging in the air like a soft echo. âYouâre the reason I want to redefine everything. Iâd rather face the challenges that come with being with you than chase trophies that wonât matter in the end. Iâve already made a name for myself.â
Tears brimmed in her eyes as she knelt beside him, her heart pounding in her chest. âMax, you know this isnât an easy life. There are protocols, expectations⌠responsibilities that come with the crown.â
âThen letâs face them together,â he said, his hands slipping to her palms as he held her gaze, his expression earnest and filled with warmth. âIâm not afraid of the challenges. I want to be your partner in all of this, in the crown and beyond.â
His words resonated within her, echoing through the quiet of the chamber. This was what she had longed forâthe freedom to be herself, to love without the constraints of her title. âYouâre incredible,â she breathed, a smile breaking across her face. âI donât know how I got so lucky.â
âBecause we found each other,â he said simply, still kneeling before her, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still.
As she took in the sight of himâhis casual yet earnest demeanour, the way his eyes shone with loveâshe realised how much she wanted to embrace this possibility. With Max, she could build a life that transcended royal duties and expectations. âOkay,â she said finally, her heart racing with excitement. âLetâs do this. I want to marry you.â
A wide grin broke out across Maxâs face as he rose to his feet, pulling her up with him and into a tight embrace that felt like home. âYou have no idea how happy that makes me,â he whispered, burying his face in her hair, his arms wrapping securely around her.
âAnd while you donât have a ring, I suppose weâll have to go shopping for one in the family safe,â she said, laughter bubbling up as she stepped back to look at him. âBut in the meantime, I guess Iâll just have to get used to being your fiancĂŠe without any bling.â
Max chuckled, a sound that filled the room with warmth. âIâll get you the prettiest ring I can find. One that suits a princess, even if Iâm just a guy from the karting track.â
âNot just any guy,â she said, her heart swelling with affection. âYouâre my guy.â
Just as she and Max shared another lingering kiss, the moment was interrupted by a gentle but firm knock on the door. Before either of them could react, Lukas opened the door and stepped inside, a playful smirk on his face.
âWhile it was cute to eavesdrop on this conversation,â he said, crossing his arms with a teasing glint in his eyes, âYour Highness, you have a coronation to get to. Oh and, congratulations.â
She pulled away from Max, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and delight. âLukas! You couldâve knocked a little louder!â she exclaimed, trying to regain her composure.
Max chuckled, slipping his arm around her waist, clearly unfazed by Lukasâs entrance. âWhat can I say? The excitement was too much for me to contain,â he replied, winking at her.
Lukas raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from playful to serious. âAs much as Iâm thrilled to see you both in such high spirits, we need to focus. Thereâs a schedule to follow, and the country is expecting you to step into your role as queen today.â
She nodded, her heart racing again as the reality of her responsibilities settled in. âRight, the coronation,â she murmured, glancing at Max, who remained close beside her. The moment felt electric, as if their conversation about love and commitment had wrapped them in a protective bubble against the outside world.
âDo you need a moment?â Lukas asked, breaking her reverie as he gestured between the two of them. âI can come back.â
âNo, no. Weâre fine,â she said, her voice steadier than she felt. âBut I do need to get ready.â
Lukasâs expression softened slightly, and he offered a genuine smile. âGood. Iâd hate to keep the kingdom waiting for too long. And, Mr. Verstappen,â he added, turning to him with a knowing look, âmake sure she remembers that this is a huge day for her. No distractions.â
Max nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. âDonât worry, Iâll keep her on track,â he said, giving her a mock-serious look. âI promise not to distract her too much.â
She laughed, feeling a rush of warmth and gratitude for the way they interactedâMax, with his playful charm, and Lukas, with his unwavering dedication. âI appreciate that,â she said, smiling at both of them. âI donât want to keep anyone waiting.â
âGood. Then Iâll let you get ready,â Lukas said, stepping back toward the door but pausing for a moment to meet Maxâs gaze. âAnd you,â he added, âkeep it together until the coronation is over. There will be plenty of time for celebrating afterward.â
Max raised his hands in mock surrender. âUnderstood, Captain Lukas.â
With a final nod, Lukas stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her and Max alone once again. The air felt different nowâcharged with anticipation and purpose.
âSoâŚâ Max began, leaning against the foot of her bed with a playful grin, âare you ready to take on the world? Or at least the country?â
She took a deep breath, letting the weight of her new reality wash over her. âI guess I have to be,â she replied, her voice steady. âToday is about more than just me. Itâs about the people Iâll serve and lead.â
Max stepped closer, his expression turning earnest. âAnd youâll do an amazing job. Youâre already a queen in my eyes, and this coronation is just the official part. You have all the qualities that make a great leaderâcompassion, strength, and a heart full of love.â
Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a renewed sense of determination. âThank you, Max. Your support means everything to me, especially today.â
He reached for her hands, intertwining their fingers. âIâm with you every step of the way, princess,â he said, his voice low and sincere. âNo matter what challenges come, youâll never have to face them alone.â
Taking a look at Max, a thought crossed her mind, walking across the room to a small, ornate bell nestled on a table by the window. She picked it up, her heart racing as she prepared to summon the attendants. With a quick glance back at Max, who was still leaning casually against her bed, she rang the bell, the clear chime echoing through the elegant chamber.
Max raised an eyebrow, curiosity etched on his face. âWhat are you doing?â he asked, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
âI need you to get fitted for a suit,â she replied, her tone light but filled with purpose. She turned back to face him, crossing her arms. âYouâll be by my side during the coronation, and that means you canât just wear what youâre wearing.â
Max chuckled, glancing down at his casual attireâcomfortable jeans and a fitted T-shirt. âYou donât think this is enough?â he asked, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
She stepped closer, her expression turning serious. âNo, Max. You need a royal suit. Something that reflects who you are now,â she emphasised, her heart swelling at the thought of him standing beside her during such a pivotal moment. âOh, and you should probably meet my mother, the Queen Dowager. Iâm sure she��d love to see you before the ceremony.â
Maxâs eyes widened slightly at the mention of her mother, but a determined smile spread across his face. âQueen Dowager, huh? No pressure there,â he said, chuckling nervously. âWhat do I say to her? âHi, Iâm the guy whoâs been dating your daughter while you were busy preparing for a royal coronationâ?â
âPretty much,â she teased, her laughter ringing through the room. âBut just be yourself. Sheâll appreciate your honesty. And besides, I think sheâll like you.â
A soft knock sounded at the door, and before she could respond, it swung open to reveal one of her attendants, a young woman with a friendly smile. âYour Highness, you summoned?â
âYes, please arrange for Mr. Verstappen to be fitted for a suit,â she instructed, her tone firm but friendly. âWe need to make sure he looks regal today.â
The attendant nodded, her eyes darting between her and Max, clearly wondering who he was. âOf course, Your Highness. Right away.â
As the attendant exited, Max gave her a mock-serious look. âSo, do I get to pick my own colours? Iâm not sure what would look good on me in royal attire.â
She shrugged, unable to contain her laughter. âI think youâd look good in anything, but maybe we can avoid neon colours,â she suggested, winking playfully. âHow about something classic? Navy, perhaps? Itâll suit you and look great next to my gown.â
âAlright, I can work with navy,â Max said, his smile widening. âAnd what about my tie? Should I go for a bow tie or a regular one?â
âRegular, please,â she replied, trying to keep a straight face. âJust remember, youâre not going to a cocktail party. This is a coronation.â
âGot it. Regular tie, no neon, and navy it is,â he said, nodding seriously. âIâll do my best to not embarrass you in front of the entire kingdom.â
âYouâll do great. Just remember to breathe,â she reassured him, stepping closer again. âAnd Iâll be right there beside you the entire time.â
Max took a deep breath, looking her up and down with a smile on his face. âIsnât it my job to comfort you right now?â
The same attendant returned moments later, followed by another staff member carrying a measuring tape and a selection of fabric swatches. âMr. Verstappen, if youâd follow us to the fitting room?â the attendant said with a professional smile.
âTime to be royal,â Max said, winking at her as he stepped away. âIâll see you soon, Your Highness.â
In a whirlwind of emotions, she turned her focus back to the preparations ahead. She had a kingdom to unite and a new chapter to embraceâone that she would navigate with Maxâs love and support by her side. It felt right, and for the first time in a long while, the heaviness in her chest began to lighten. Today was the beginning of her reign, and she was ready.
And for the first time since she found out she was going to be queen, she felt free.
the end.
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Stand By Me
Two weeks.
That's all it had been since you last saw each other.
Considering it was only the start of the relationship, it felt like a life time. Work had kept the two of you apart; Alexia seemed to have to travel constantly at the moment, and the busyness of your own job had picked up too. Even when you were in the same city as each other, there still wasn't enough time, and it felt like torture knowing you were just miles away from each other.
But that's what made your relationship so sweet. When the pair of you got together, it was like the rest of the world went away. If it was just the two of you, you saw a different side to Alexia and she saw a different side to you. You felt invincible when you were together. You could never take for granted the soft, tender, shy, and tooth-rottingly sweet persona of Alexia Putellas off the pitch, and you thought maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way about you.
Apparently not.
Here you now were, sat alone at the restaurant that you were supposed to be meeting her at, slowly harbouring a glass of wine as you watched the time tick away on the clock opposite you. Despite the chatter, laughter, music, and general background noise of the restaurant, bustling as it was on this Friday evening, you swore you could hear the hands move on the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Five minutes - fine! Not a problem.
Ten minutes - still alright.
Fifteen minutes - well... a text sent.
Twenty minutes - a bottle of wine ordered.
Thirty minutes? This was unfair. Not even a reply of warning. In fact, you hadn't gotten a single text all day.
Still, the clock, tick, tick, ticking away, mocking, teasing.
Where the hell was she?
"PerdĂłnarme, seĂąorita, if you are not going to order, we have a lot of people waiting for a table."
There we go. The last straw.
At the waiter's words, you stood abruptly from the table, gulped down the rest of your wine, before grabbing your coat and storming out. That was nothing short of utterly humiliating. You were in half a mind to take the bottle of wine with you and drown your sorrows on the walk home, but you'd already had enough embarrassment for one night. Walking out of a restaurant full of lovers on your own with nobody holding your hand, nobody carrying your coat for you, nobody guiding you out to a pre-booked taxi with their hand lingering on your lower back. You had yourself and yourself only, and being seen gaining comfort from a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine was not the impression you were trying to achieve.
Still, that didn't stop you from throwing your heels off in the corridor of your small Barcelona flat and heading straight to the fridge for one of the beers you kept in there. You could only fall asleep later that night after your best friend back in your home town in England called you up and criticised the woman you thought could do no wrong, having you belly laughing until you succumbed to your exhaustion, feeling significantly lighter.
Frustratingly, that was only a temporary thing. The first thing on your mind the following morning, was how badly you missed the feeling of a certain Catalonian's arms being wrapped around you. Again, it was just the start of the relationship (if that was even a thing anymore), so there had only been a few... sleepovers, but that didn't diminish the longing you had.
"Fuck sake." You grumbled, swinging your body to sit on the edge of the bed as you sighed heavily, head dropping back and eyes closing.
Waking up sad and alone in a foreign country, no matter how long you had lived there, never got any easier - especially when you had been so cruelly ghosted the previous night. The embarrassment lingered heavily in your chest, and you wanted to do nothing all day but sulk in your flat, then get drunk in one of Barcelona's many night clubs. Previously, you had rejected your friends' plans for tonight in the hopes of spending time with Alexia, but that had obviously flown out of the window after last night's events, or rather the lack of events.
So, you sent a text to the group chat containing your favourite friends you'd met so far in this beautiful city, informing them of your new decision, smiling when you instantly received an influx of messages conveying their joy. However, to your own annoyance, you found yourself pressing on Alexia's chat to see that she had left you on read.
Un-fucking-believable.
That night, you made sure to put on the little black dress you'd been keeping at the back of your wardrobe, hoping to one day wear it when you were going out with Alexia. But boy had she ruined that chance now.
When you got drunk whilst carrying a variety of angry emotions (especially when it came to relationships), you knew you had a habit of acting a little... petty, to say the least. That habit came in full force at 2am, when you decided to post a picture of yourself in your outfit, a smug and knowing grin on your face, hoping for Alexia to see it on your Instagram story.
Still drunk and awake at 6am, however now thankfully in the comfort of your own bed, you checked your Instagram story views, and there it was. Alexia had seen it. And... liked it? Was she serious right now? With a frustrated huff, you threw your phone down on the bed beside you and tossed onto your side angrily, refusing to let this get to you. Admittedly, that was a little hard to do in your drunk and emotional state.
You weren't entirely surprised to find your pillow coated with the after effects of tear-streaked mascara the next morning, but you were more worried about the pounding on your front door that caused your head to throb. Not quite jumping out of bed, it was more of a stumble really, you threw on your dressing gown and very quickly washed your face as to not scare off whoever was meer minutes away from bashing your door down.
"Fucking hell, it's early, who are-" You cut yourself off when you swung the door open, only to be met with the one person you were not expecting. "No."
Spiteful laughter bubbled out of you before you could control your reactions, and you slammed the door shut in her face.
...okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but in your hungover state, you didn't really have the sympathetic capacity to feel sorry about it.
"Please. I need to talk." Alexia pleads, a tired frown on her face as she held onto a bouquet of flowers.
"Why?" You leaned back against the door, bending over a little to rub stressfully at your face.
"I messed up, I know it. Please. I want to, to explain myself."
You would be lying if you said her English accent, sounding much sadder than you'd heard it before, didn't pull at your heart.
"I'm not in the mood right now, Alexia. It's early."
"It's two o'clock." Comes Alexia's confused voice.
Your eyes went wide as you looked at the digital clock on your coffee table, seeing it was indeed 2pm.
"Well... just not now, Ale!" You groan, rubbing your temple.
"Vale, vale." You just about hear her sigh exasperatedly on the other side of the door. "Soon, por favor. Tengo algo quĂŠ admitir." (I have something to admit.)
"What, that you're an arsehole?" You snort, before grimacing at yourself. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm sorry."
"No, it is okay." Alexia sounds a little humoured rather than offended. "I did not mean to... not show up to our date. There was a confusion with my schedule, and I did not mean to hurt you, guapa. I would really like to explain it. Please let me have a chance."
It falls silent between you both for a second as you consider your options. Your head was pounding, you were in a horrendous state appearance wise, and judging by your peculiar actions within the past few moments, you're pretty sure you're still a little drunk.
"How about we meet for coffee in an hour?" You suggest, because you really needed a shower and perhaps 1 or 2 or 10 glasses of water.
Sure, she'd already seen you in your current state, but you were not about to have an adult conversation with panda eyes and awful morning breath.
"SĂ, I would like that." Alexia lets out a breath of relief. "At our bakery?"
You smile sadly at that - there was a bakery down the road from your apartment, a tiny but heavenly place with the best coffee and pastries that you had immediately claimed as your favourite breakfast spot within days of moving to Barcelona. When you introduced Alexia to it after your first night together, she had grown to love it just like you. From then on, most times you were together, you would go there.
"Yes, at our bakery." You confirm, closing your eyes as you picture her solemn face behind the door.
"Okay, I will be there. I... your flowers?" Alexia says, again with a hopeful lilt to to her voice.
You pause, before turning to open the door ever so slightly, half your face showing in the gap. This gave you the chance to take in Alexia's appearance, and it caused your defiance towards her to crack a bit. Her eyes were quite red, there seemed to be a frown permanently etched onto her face, and a pair of dull bags under her eyes seemed to drag her skin down. It was quite heartbreaking, to say the least. You're brave enough to think even you looked better than her right now in your current state of appearance.
"Gracias, Ale. QuĂŠ son hermosas." You take the bouquet from her, looking down at the abundance of stunningly colourful flowers organised perfectly.
"Tus favoritos." Alexia offers a semi-genuine smile as you meet eye to eye. You return the smile, seeing hers grow at the sight. "I swear I am so sorry for my actions, guapa."
"It was really humiliating on Friday, Ale." You admit. Alexia pinches the bridge of her nose as her frown somehow intensifies.
"Lo siento mucho, de verdad." Alexia mumbles, looking at the floor as she's too ashamed to look you in the eye. "It was not my, my... intentions?" She looks up at you briefly as you nod to confirm she's said the right word. "SĂ, it was not my intentions to have you feel like that. I need to explain, please."
Alexia Putellas was not one to beg, you knew that.
"You can, later." You tell her. She nods and brushes her hair back with her hand.
"Gracias. Really, thank you."
"I'll see you soon."
"Vale. I will show up this time." She jokes light-heartedly, making you let out a huff of laughter and shake your head.
"If you don't, I'm never talking to you again." Her eyes widen at that and she nods nervously as you hold back a laugh.
"I will be there." She states firmly.
"Good." You offer a small smile. "Bye, Ale."
She nods once more and takes a few steps backwards, just gazing at you.
"Bye, amor." She murmurs, before turning around and walking away.
To your relief, Alexia stuck true to her word. An hour later, you saw her sat at one of the outdoor tables of the bakery, a hat and a hood allowing her to stay mostly incognito. But you knew her all too well and instantly recognise her despite her shoddy disguise. Her posture was slumped slightly, another sign that maybe mentally she wasn't doing that great.
"Hola." You greet her, making her raise her head immediately and look at you with a face of relief.
"You are here." She states simply, almost in disbelief.
"I could say the same about you." You hit back, wincing as the words leave your mouth.
"Mm." Alexia grimaces, trailing her eyes back down to where her hands rested on the table.
You take a seat across from her, noticing she'd already ordered your favourite pastry and hot drink for you.
"Thanks for these." You smile up at her.
"You want me to... get straight into it?" The English phrase sounds funny coming from her, it sitting unfamiliarly on her tongue.
"Please."
You watch as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair and sighs, folding her arms on the table and keeping her eyes cast down.
"Friday, I was with my family. Friday was... ten years of my PapĂ's death."
Well, shit.
"Oh my god." You freeze, eyes wide as you stare at her. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I-"
"You didn't know, amor, it is not your issue." Alexia reasurres you. You put your head in your hands and groan quietly.
"I could have been less petty and immature about it though. Fuck, I am so sorry, Alexia. I had no idea." You ramble, mentally kicking yourself and looking at her through your fingers. She responds silently with a soft smile as she gently pulls your hands from your face.
"No, I am sorry, guapa. I didn't talk to you, I left you... in the dark. Or, alone at a restaurant." She jokes, and you let out a breath of relief.
"A text would have been nice." You mumble after a few moments, eyes focused on your connected hands as Alexia brushes her thumbs over your knuckles.
"I know. That is another reason why I feel bad. I left you, and I didn't send you a text to tell you. Really, I am so sorry. It was just... a hard day." It's said in a quiet tone that's laced with emotion, and that paired with her appearance, you knew instantly she was telling you the absolute truth.
"I bet it was." You smile sadly at her.
"I know I should have been... should have told you the truth. But I am now. I did not mean to hurt you, no way. My head was... full. It did not stop running and running. I didn't look at my phone on Friday at all, I just noticed yesterday what I had done. When I knew, I was so angry with myself." Alexia explains. "Alba shouted at me too."
You giggle at that, and she chuckles along with you.
"I believe you. I'm not mad." You admit.
Alexia drops her head so that her chin is to her chest, her anxiety now almost entirely eased thanks to your understanding.
"Dios mĂo, muchas gracias. Lo aprecio mĂĄs de lo quĂŠ crees, amor." She mumbles, shaking her head before looking back up at you with tears in her eyes. (I appreciate it more than you know.)
"Just please don't do it again. Let me in next time. If we want to have a relationship, we need to communicate better, we need to be clear and honest, okay?" You tell her.
"SĂ, I know. I know. I will try." Alexia says affirmatively. "I am not perfect. But I will try. I want this, I do."
You stand up from your chair, and at first Alexia panics internally, but when you offer your arms out for a hug, she leaps up and embraces you tightly.
"Neither of us are perfect, pero tengo muchas ganas de quĂŠ funcione tambiĂŠn." You whisper in her ear, rubbing your hands up and down her back. (But I want it to work too, so much.)
"Yo tambiĂŠn, cariĂąo." Alexia places a handful of light, apologetic kisses on your neck.
"I'm sorry for being rude and petty earlier. I think I was still drunk." You admit sheepishly, Alexia laughing into your skin.
"I think you were. That was not like you." You grimace and nod in agreement. She pulls her head away and clutches at the back of your neck, her eyes searching yours. "We are okay?"
"SĂ, amor. MĂĄs quĂŠ bien." (More than okay.)
When your lips finally connect, all is forgiven.
It's three weeks before the next incident.
In that time, Alexia had done a lot of grovelling. You had reasurred her many times that, as long as it was a one off occasion and due to the event she had missed your date for, you weren't angry. Not only had she surprised you with weekly flowers, date nights, and a night away together, she'd also asked you to be her girlfriend. It was a no-brainer, of course you said yes. Both of you had never been happier.
However, as you lay on the sofa of your apartment, sick supplies and tissues surrounding you and a blanket borderline suffocating you despite your temperature, you could only focus on the pain you felt for your girlfriend as the whistle blew for the Champions League Final.
Barcelona 1 - 3 Lyon.
You felt tears brewing uncomfortably at the sight of the white-kitted team celebrating, but that was nothing compared to the sight of your girlfriend lay on the field, sobbing her heart out.
If you were heartbroken, you can't even begin to imagine her pain. This was her dream, every footballer's dream, and it had been brutally pulled away from her and her team at the very last stage. And it all felt worse because you couldn't be there for her. Instead, you were stuck on your sofa, your whole body hurting and your chest rattling with every breath, completely ruined by a nasty chest infection.
It wasn't meant to end like this for the Barça Femenà team. You knew it.
But Alexia... she couldn't even begin to fathom what had occured.
The moment the whistle blew, she went into shock. When she awoke the next morning, she couldn't remember much. The whole evening was a blur. She vaguely remembers the utter disgust she felt when a silver medal was placed around her neck, the anger she felt giving the Lyon team a guard of honour, and the stab in the heart when golden confetti landed on her.
She remembers feeling her mother's arms wrapped around her along with the reasurring whispers of her sister, but she had no idea what was actually said. She doesn't remember picking up her phone once at all that evening. She doesn't remember the silent coach journey back to the hotel. She doesn't remember getting into bed, and she has no idea how she fell asleep. Most importantly, she doesn't remember just how ill her girlfriend was.
Fuck.
Her girlfriend, her sick girlfriend who was devastated to not be able to fly to Turin with Alexia and her family. Her sick girlfriend who was all alone back in Barcelona, feeling worse than she ever had in her life.
Alone.
Alexia was completely unaware of the fact that you had managed to get ahold of Alba to try and find out how your girlfriend was. And when Alba had cared for you more in the space of a twenty minute phone call than Alexia had in the past 24 hours, you knew just what kind of situation you were in now. Despite the pain your girlfriend was feeling, you were nothing short of furious. Not that you could do much about it though, considering everytime you moved, you would cough so hard your vision went fuzzy. But your closest friend, who had dropped whatever she was doing to come to your flat and stay with you, at the request (demand) of Alba, she took all of that fury on for you and held onto it until you could handle it.
Even still, Alexia went down to breakfast shortly after waking up like she hadn't just ignored your messages that she briefly glanced at, along with the flurry of other messages from family and friends. She ate on her own in silence, airpods in with nothing playing in hopes of some peace. That wasn't achieved though, it was a futile and pathetic attempt. Her mind wouldn't stop.
For the whole of yesterday evening and this morning, the defeat ate at Alexia more than any other mistake she'd made. But as she sat there, alone, staring at her empty plate, she knew she had royally fucked up again with you, and this realisation took over every other mistake she'd made. Not only that, but she had also left her phone in her hotel room, and right now that felt like adding fuel to the fire.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back quickly, darting off to the elevator and spamming the button for it to pick her up. When it arrives, she almost runs straight into some other hotel guests, but she doesn't apologise. She steps to the side and waits for them to get out, before pressing the button for her floor and willing the doors to close before anyone else could get on. They did, thankfully, and she urged the lift to move quicker, watching the floors increase until finally she got to the right one. As she ran to her room, going past a few of her teammates who simply just stared at her, she stopped outside the door and checked her pockets for her keycard.
She'd left it in the room.
"ÂĄJoder, no!" She shouts, banging her palms against her own door angrily. Her chest heaved as she rested her forehead against the door, finally feeling the tears she had resisted.
"Ale? ÂżQuĂŠ paso?" Mapi approaches her cautiously, Ingrid standing back and watching on with concern.
"Dame tu telĂŠfono." Alexia demands, holding her hand out. (Give me your phone.)
"Ale-"
"ÂĄDame tu telĂŠfono ahora!" She shouts, Mapi glancing back worryingly at Ingrid before handing her phone over immediately. As quick as she could, Mapi unlocks the phone for her and Alexia types in your phone number.
"ÂżHola?" It's not your voice.
"Where is she?" Alexia questions, hastily wiping away the tears dripping down her face.
"No, Alexia. Too late." Your friend replies angrily.
"Let me talk to her, ahora." Alexia requests weakly, her cold, strong demeanor cracking by the second.
"She is asleep. She cried herself to exhaustion after staying up all night worrying for you. No way am I letting her talk to you." Your friend spat out brutally, before hanging up.
Alexia drops the phone and slumps back against the wall, sliding down against it until she's on the floor.
"Who did you call?" Mapi asks softly, sitting beside her friend.
"Mi novia." Alexia sighs, resting her elbows on her knees and covering her face.
"You have a girlfriend?" Mapi couldn't stop the surprised answer from bursting out of her, and in turn she received a kick in the shin from Ingrid.
"Do you need a new key?" Ingrid questions. When Alexia nods behind her hands, Ingrid looks expectantly at Mapi.
"Why me?" Mapi responds but she gets up immediately when her girlfriend glares at her. She walks away with her hands in the air, going back to the elevator. Ingrid sits in her place.
"ÂżQuĂŠ paso?" Ingrid wonders softly, wrapping an arm around Alexia's shoulders.
"She is really sick. And I have pushed her away, again." Alexia reveals, grabbing her shirt by the collar and pulling it up to cover her face.
"Again?" Ingrid pushes gently.
"SĂ, again. I am an idiot. I keep doing it and I do not know why." Alexia groans, angry at nobody but herself.
The two women talk for a while, Ingrid managing to help Alexia work through some of her emotions before Mapi comes back with a new keycard.
"Gracias, mis amigas." Alexia mumbles, being pulled into a hug by Ingrid, quickly joined by Mapi.
"Let us meet her." Ingrid requests with a smile, Mapi nodding in agreement with a grin.
"Who has tamed Alexia?" Mapi teases, earning a smack on the head by her girlfriend. "Ay, lo siento."
Alexia shakes her head at the pair of them, a tiny slither of a smile on her face as she turns to open her door. The couple walk away with a wave, before Alexia closes the door behind her and rushes over to her phone.
The influx of messages from you break her heart. You sent your last text at 04:17AM, and even though Alexia sensed you were angry at her, it was still filled with love and care.
Yes, she'd hugely messed up.
She was sat on the end of the bed, head in her hands, when her phone rang. Her heart hoped it was you, but her brain knew it wasn't. Instead, it was her sister, and she knew she was about to be in for a lecture and a half.
As expected, she answered and was immediately met with an overload of Spanish being bellowed at her down the line. There was no way she could get a word in as Alba went on and on, and with every word that came out of her sister's mouth, the guilt she felt increased tenfold.
How had she done it again?
"SĂ, lo sĂŠ, Alba. Lo sĂŠ." Alexia mumbles when Alba finally pauses. (Yes, I know, Alba. I know.)
The younger woman goes to speak again, but she's interrupted by broken sobs that wreck through Alexia's body. That's when Alba realises her sister didn't need a lecture now, she had realised her mistake, and what she needed was advice. So, for an hour, that's what she gave. Until the cries of her older sister finally subsided, and there were only background sniffles to her solutions.
After they hung up on each other, Alexia went onto your contact and took her time typing out a message to you. She knew the likelihood of receiving a reply was very low, but it was the first step in making up for her idiocy.
Alexia: Amor, I have no words, no excuses for my actions. I have messed up and broken your trust again. I should not have let the defeat get to me as much as it did, and because of it, I neglected you. It is unforgivable but I know I really messed up and I will really try hard to win you back. I'm coming back to Barcelona tonight, I want to see you so bad but if you don't want me I understand. I hope you're feeling better, I'm so sorry I have been so selfish and I wish I was there to look after you. I hope to see you soon, amor. Feel better soon â¤ď¸
Turning her phone off, she drops it beside her and lays back on the bed. Her forearms cover her eyes as she takes a few deep breaths, overwhelmed by everything that had happened.
"Venga, Ale, tenemos nuestra reuniĂłn de equipo ahora." Mapi knocks on her door and shouts through. (Come on, Ale, we have our team meeting now.)
With a heavy sigh, Alexia once again wipes her face on the inside of her t-shirt before getting up - taking her phone with her this time - and leaving her room, accompanied by her good friend.
Meanwhile, back at your flat, you had woken up to the sounds of clattering from your kitchen as your friend made you some grilled cheese toasties and tomato soup. You notice your phone wasn't anywhere around you, so you clamber out of bed, not without a cough, and head towards the kitchen.
"Bon dĂa!" Your Catalonian friend smiles brightly at you from her place in front of the stove.
"Have you got my phone?" You croak out, rubbing your eyes tiredly.
"SĂ. I'm not sure you want it." Your friend sighs angrily as she turns back to the food.
"Why?" You ask with a frown. "Has Alexia replied?"
"Yes."
"Well, let me see then." You reply flatly, walking over to take your phone from where you spotted it in her jacket pocket. She steps out of your reach and shakes her head.
"I'm so angry with her, chica, I'm not letting you just walk back into her arms." Your friend warns you.
"I'm not just gonna walk back into her arms, I'm not stupid." You argue, and your friend sighs again.
"I never said that. I didn't mean that. Sorry. I just mean... she always throws you to the side when she's going through a hard time. You are the most caring person I have met, I don't see why she acts like the way she does when she's upset. It makes no sense, chica, and you don't deserve that. Especially when you are so ill like you are." Your friend tells you softly, dishing up your food.
"I know and I am fucking angry about it." You mumble, moving to sit at the tiny dining table in your kitchen.
"Good. You better know your worth, because that woman doesn't." She mumbles, bringing your food over and placing it in front of you. "Te amo, amiga."
You smile as she sweetly kisses your forehead before going off and cleaning her mess. The two of you make small talk as you eat, until she sits down in front of you with a pointed look.
"Hm?" You hum, waiting for her to get out whatever she was about to say.
"I will give you your phone. I'm going to do a grocery shop for you, so I'll give you your phone, but please do not sit on it and just make yourself more upset. I will be quick as I can, sĂ?" You nod and smile at her as she slides her phone over to you. "Call if you need. See you soon."
She grabs her coat and walks out the door. When she's gone, you immediately go on your phone and look for Alexia's message. You read it, your heart being pulled in about a million different directions emotion-wise, and... as much as you hate to admit it, you believe her. Ultimately though, you choose not to reply to it. She doesn't deserve that yet.
Instead, you move over to the sofa and collapse onto it, a devastated frown on your face as your bottom lip quivers. Tears sneak their way out, soaking the pillow you rest your head on, tired of being ill and tired of being cast aside by your girlfriend.
A few hours later, as you sleep with your head on your friend's lap, there is a knock at your door. You don't hear it of course as you got some more much needed rest, so your friend gently slides out from underneath you and answers it.
"Are you fucking serious?" She growls when she opens the door to see Alexia on the other side. "Are you really here right now?"
"I know you have looked after her when I've been gone, but I am here now, and I need to see her, please. I am so sorry." Alexia pleads, her infamous frown seemingly etched permanently on her face nowadays.
"She is asleep, so I'm going to lower my voice but don't forget how angry I am with you." Your friend takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "She has been desperate to speak to you. She didn't stop crying for you and your loss all evening yesterday, and then all night too when she realised you had begun to ignore her again. Imagine how she feels, knowing you are in pain, but being shoved out? And then double her feelings, because she knows that you know she is so sick right now, yet you still choose to act how you have. Her head is all over the place: one part of her is so unbelievably angry at you, another part of her just wants you to hold her until she is better, her mental state seems to just take constant hits because of you. So no, while I am here, you will not see her. I'm taking care of her, giving her my love, doing chores for her since she can hardly breathe, all the things you as a girlfriend should be doing. You are childish and selfish and so fucking egotistical if you think you can march in here and say 'ooh, lo siento bebĂta' and expect her to fall back into your arms. You do not deserve her, so go away."
Despite the supposedly calm voice your friend speaks with (it was not calm, it was brutal, spitting, and patronising, with each word hitting Alexia like a bullet), you were woken up by the commotion just a few metres away from you. Neither of the two at your door could see your face where you were on the couch, so you laid still and listened to them.
"I know I have done wrong. I'm a shit girlfriend, I fucking know it. But I still care for her, more than anything in my life. I forgot that for a few hours and I regret it more than anything in my life because I... I love her."
Your eyes widen at that - you and Alexia hadn't admitted that to each other yet. Was she saying it now just to get to you, or did she actually mean it?
"You better mean that, if you are saying that just for the sake of an argument, just to try to win her back, I swear... I can't even think about that. Are you being serious?"
"SĂ, absolutely serious. I love her. So much." Alexia's voice cracks from emotion, and you lift your head up a little to see her wipe away a tear. "I can't even explain how much I love her. She... she is the best thing in my life, and I don't know why I keep messing it up but I hate it as much as you do. I cannot even stand myself."
She talks about herself with so much disgust in her voice, it's unsettling to hear.
"You..." Your friend sighs and shakes her head. "Why, Alexia? Why do you do it?"
"I don't know. My, my head gets so... so dark and... clouded. I don't even remember what happened after the game. Uh... mi hermana says I went into shock. I think that's true because I remember nothing. I didn't drink, I had no alcohol. But I don't recall anything. There are... hours that are empty for me. All night. Until I woke up this morning and it's like my life outside of football slowly came back to me and I felt terrible. It's never my intention to neglect her, never. I'm ashamed when it happens because I know she is perfect for me and doesn't deserve me when I am being selfish and stuck in my head. But I love her, I have loved her for a while and I'm sad and fucking disappointed of myself that she doesn't know that." Alexia explains, her hands constantly swiping at her face, determined to not let her tears fall.
"I do know that, Ale." You say quietly, coming to stand beside your friend at the door.
The woman next to you has to suppress an eye roll, but she'd be lying if she said her anger towards Alexia hadn't diminished a little at her seemingly honest words.
"Amor..." Alexia breathes out at the sight of you.
"You can go back to rest, I have this." Your friend reasurres you softly, but you shake your head.
"I want to talk to her." You say, not taking your eyes away from your glum looking girlfriend who gazes at you wordlessly.
"You are sure?" You nod, and your friend walks away to give you both some space.
Alexia watches you, unsure if she should be the first to say anything. But before she can ponder that any longer, you wrap your arms around her tightly. You hide your face in her chest, knowing your friend is watching from the sofa absolutely seething at the image in front of her, but right now you needed this. And judging by Alexia's reaction of crying quietly into your neck, she needed it too.
"I... I am so, so sorry." Alexia says shakily, pulling back and tenderly cupping your face. "How do you feel?"
"Like shit." You mumble, not meeting her eyes. "Do you mean everything you just said?"
"All of it, every word." She answers, and for now, that's all you need.
"We will talk another time because I'm so angry at you, Ale, but right now I think we need each other more than anything." You state in an exasperated voice. Alexia doesn't think she's ever heard a more relieving sentence.
"SĂ, sĂ, amor. I understand you are angry, I really do. Anything you want." Alexia rambles, softly stroking over the skin of your cheekbones.
"Give me a second. Wait here." You tell her. She nods vigorously and doesn't move a muscle when you're away from her.
"Amiga, are you sure this is what you want? I will beat her puta ass right now." Your friend offers, standing up from the couch and placing her hands on your shoulders.
"You don't need to do that. Not right now, anyway." You reply, chuckling at the suggestion and the subsequent image in your head.
"Vale. You call if you need me, I will be here in seconds, you know it. Let me know how it goes. Eres como una hermana para mĂ, te amo mucho." (You are like a sister to me, I love you so much.)
You smile up at her and gladly accept the hug she offers.
"I love you too, chica. Thank you for everything you've done. I'll speak to you soon." You tell her, squeezing her arm before she walks away.
Silently, you laugh as she glares at Alexia and bumps into her shoulder on her way out of the door. That girl.
"May I come in?" Alexia questions in a shy voice. You nod, and she quietly closes the door behind her. "Is there anything you would like me to do? Anything you need?"
Now that you were alone with her, you were torn. Your brain told you that you should be cautious, that you shouldn't trust her, but your heart wanted you to dive right into her arms and never leave again.
"I, um... I think I need to take my tablets now. The doctors gave me some antibiotics." You answer, your cheeks flushed red as you spoke sheepishly.
"Get yourself comfy on the couch. I will get them for you, and anything else you need or want." Alexia takes a few steps closer until there was less than a metre between you both. "Tell me. It's my job to look after you."
You bit back a nasty response to that, it wasn't the right time. If you wanted to keep the atmosphere as civil and comfortable as possible, now was definitely not the right time to spill every insult and emotion pent up inside you.
"I... I just want my girlfriend, Ale." You admit tearfully.
Alexia didn't think it was possible for such a short sentence to completely crush her heart.
"I am here. Here now." Alexia tells you, pulling you tight against her as yet more tears fall. "I will never forgive myself, amor."
"Please, just..." You sigh frustratedly, moving back from her arms. "Don't talk. I need you, not your words."
Alexia nods affirmatively, and from then on, the evening was spent with no more than a handful of words shared between you both. She helped you take your tablets, held you tightly on the sofa as a movie played on the TV, rubbed your back comfortingly whenever you coughed, cleaned your apartment quickly when you went off to get ready for bed, and whispered the sweetest words imaginable in your ear until you drifted off to sleep.
She didn't sleep at all that night, instead simply just cradled you in a position to ensure your chest wouldn't bother you. It wasn't exactly comfortable for her, but she'd go through anything to you make you feel better. As it often did, her mind spiralled uncontrollably as she sat in silence, the only sounds being your wheezing breaths, and she couldn't stop the stupid tears that leaked from her eyes.
Alexia despised crying. That was only something she had discovered later in her adult life, but she loathed it more than anything. It wasn't something relieving for her, she didn't 'feel better' after it like everyone always says, if anything she felt worse. Frustrated, pathetic, weak, and fucking tired.
But what did she hate more than crying?
Crying because of her disgraceful actions. Crying because you were crying as a result of her.
Whatever it was that was so fucked up wrong with her, she had to deal with it because she couldn't live like this anymore, you couldn't live with her like this anymore. She knew if she got this time right and you forgave her, she had no more chances. One more time of acting like this, you were gone. You didn't even have to say it for her to know it.
Life had no guarantees, she knew her future wasn't going to be perfect and there will be occasions that will have her hating the world, so she must sort through her mind to figure out why she reacted this way and how to fix it, how to react better.
Barcelona had a team of trusted psychologists and psychiatrists, so after her next training session, she would pay them a visit and ask for help.
"What's on your mind, Ale?" You croak out, feeling her tense body underneath you and knowing she was awake. The sunlight was shining through the curtains of your room, signifying it was now the next morning.
"Nada, amor. Vuelve a dormir." She shushes you, lightly trailing her fingers up and down your back. (Nothing, love. Go back to sleep.)
"No." You reply, shifting off of her to sit up against the headboard beside her, mirroring the position she'd been in all night. "Talk to me."
"It's early, we don't have to right now." She brushes you off and feels the temperature of your forehead with the back of her hand. "How do you feel?"
"Better."
It was a lie, you still felt like crap, but you just wanted to talk. Alexia was probably right though, first thing in the morning wasn't likely the best time to talk, but you wanted it over and done with.
"Are you sure?" Alexia checks with a shaky sigh.
"I want to talk. I want you to talk." You demand gently, Alexia nodding. "Be honest with me, Ale. Really fucking honest."
"SĂ, I will." Alexia tells you. "Where do you want me to start?" You just stare at her wordlessly. "Okay. Okay."
She clears her throat nervously before she begins.
"Everything I said to your amiga yesterday was absolutely the truth. I swear it. I really don't remember much from after the match, but that's never really happened to me before. It's... a bit scary."
She pauses, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts.
"I didn't want it to happen. And I already know I need to speak to somebody about it because it was so scary when I realised what happened, and I never want it to do it again. I was just so set on us winning, getting revenge, defending our trophy, I guess I... didn't even consider us losing. It wasn't an option. But then we did lose and I was..."
She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes glazed over and unfocused as she absentmindedly stared off into your room.
"I was hurt. I gave it my all and it wasn't good enough. I felt like I had no more to give. I must have been really tired, I think I was for a long time, because when I got to my hotel room I think I went straight to sleep. Which again, never happens. I can't really sleep after a game, so for that to happen was really unusual. But I know this isn't what you wanted to hear or expected to hear, you want to hear me talk about how I felt about you. About the situation I put you in again."
She takes a deep breath and turns to look at you.
"I told you all that because I want you to know it wasn't a... a con- conscious?" You nod. "It wasn't a conscious decision or a purpose to act like that. I wasn't even in my head to make my own decisions. But I'm not going to blame my actions on that, I still blame myself for it. I need to make sure that won't happen again, it's only my responsibility, nobody else. It's not fair for me to react that way and for it to affect the people around me. I promise I am going to talk to a mental health helper about it."
Your lips turn up into a tiny smile at her skewed English translation of a therapist.
"But sometimes, when bad things happen, my head gets so negative and it's not a nice place to be. It's dark, and I don't... I don't want you to see that, amor. Because I get really negative. MamĂ told me I apparently said I don't even want to play football again after the loss yesterday. That's how bad my mindset was."
The look on Alexia's face is one of pain as she speaks, and you're quite shocked to hear what she's saying right now - you can't remember a time she's ever let you in to her headspace like this. So openly and honestly, telling you her most intense and personal thoughts.
"I think I automatically push people I love away from me when I'm like that because I really, really don't want to hurt anyone. I am going to talk to the mental health team at Barca and set up some sessions with them because I am so serious about you, amor. I want to have this relationship, I want it more than anything. And I would choose to quit football than choose to upset you on purpose. I should have checked on you, cared for you, and let you in. But I was in my own head too much and acted like a selfish... selfish brat."
You huff a breath of laughter at the description choice of herself, something that sparks a bit of hope in her chest.
"If you choose to forgive me, I'll never let you forget how grateful I am. If you want to take it slow, I will take it slow. If... you want me to leave, I will leave. The ball is in your box."
"The ball is in your court." You correct her humourously. She blushes and shakes her head.
"The ball is in your court." She repeats, looking at you with such sincerity and tenderness that it takes away your breath away slightly.
"I'm going to be honest now, okay?" Alexia nods, ready for whatever you're about to say. "I was so upset when I realised you had started to ignore me again. All I ever want to do is care for you, Ale, and when you need it most you push me away. It hurts, it makes me insecure, it makes me feel like I'm not good enough or I'm doing something wrong or-"
"No, no, no, you don't, you never have." She wants to carry on, but you stare at her, unimpressed, and that's enough to stop her in her tracks.
"I know it might be hard for you to open up, but when it comes to hard times like this, the relationship feels quite one-sided. I'm not doing that, Ale. Plain and simple. That's not how a relationship works, you have to let me in. You have to let me be there for you. No protecting your reputation, no shutting off, none of that. You let me do my job as your girlfriend because I care for you. You can rely on me, you're allowed to lay off some of your emotions onto me because that's the only way to survive healthily; accepting help from others when you need it. You can only survive on your own for so long, and this relationship can only survive for so long if you continue like this."
You warn her sternly, looking at her with a firm glare that strikes fear in Alexia.
"If anything like this happens again, Alexia, I'm out. I'm not doing it."
There you go, your last line delivered to perfectly finish off your explanation. To be honest, at such a time in the morning and when you're ill, you can't really believe how well-put together your argument is.
"I hear everything you say, amor. I hear it and I'm going to do better. You are an incredible person. You deserve better than I have given and I swear to you I'm going to be better from now on. I recognise my stupid mistakes and I know how I'm going to start fixing them. I cannot promise I will be perfect, but I do promise that I'm going to work on my flaws and be the best version of myself for you. All this, because I love you."
Is it a bit soon to forgive her? You hope not, because right now you don't think you've ever felt more admiration for someone. She's done everything you've asked for and more in terms of being honest and opening it. Perhaps it almost came too late for other people's standards, but you can't just forget the person she is when she's not being a stubborn mess. You just have to trust her now; trust that she's going to stick to her word, trust that she's going to be better for you. And if she doesn't, well... you'll be ruined.
"Am I... do you forgive me?" Comes Alexia's insecure, tired voice.
"Almost. You just need to stick to your word, please, Alexia." You sigh, returning back to your previous position on her chest. She freezes for a moment, before delicately wrapping her arms back around you and pressing a firm kiss to your warm forehead.
"I will. I promise. I promise." She rests her head atop yours, closing her exhausted eyes.
The room falls silent as you take in the feeling of each other, both relishing in it more comfortably than last night now that everything is mostly just water under the bridge.
"Ale?" You say, lifting your head up to look at her. She hums, smiling slightly deliriously down at you, completely sleep deprived. "I'm so sorry about your game. I know how much it meant to you."
She smiles sadly this time, shrugging her shoulders a little.
"Thank you. Let's not think about that now though, amor. I will be okay with it soon." She responds, leaning her head back against the headboard and closing her eyes.
"Ale?" You say again.
"Mhm?"
"I love you too."
Her eyes shoot open and her head jerks forward at that.
"ÂżHablas en serio?" She asks immediately, moving a hand to rest on your cheek. (Are you serious?)
"SĂ, absolutamente en serio." You tell her in a quiet giggle. "Te amo, Ale." (Yes, absolutely serious. I love you.)
Alexia gazes down at you, this time not loathing the tears in her eyes, before hugging you tighter than she ever has. It's a moment you'll both cherish forever - the absolute whirlwind of the past 24 hours were an important turning point in your relationship, for the better.
And when it gets to July, that turns out to be more true than you could have ever guessed. Your relationship was thriving, you didn't think it was possible to stay in the 'honeymoon phase' for so long and so intensely, but you were. Every moment possible was spent together, you introduced each other to your individual friends, and even went on holiday together to spend some important time together pre-tournament. That holiday was the best time of your life, being there with Alexia's family and closest friends outside of football, it was a special time that bonded you closer to each other and you'll never forget it.
Now though, you were back to being hundreds of miles apart. Alexia was in training camp in England for the Euros, whilst you were still in Barcelona for unmissable work events before you were due to fly out the night before Spain's first game.
However, you were in a terribly familiar predicament. It had been a few hours since Alexia had finished training that day, it being a morning session, but you hadn't heard a thing from her. That might not seem like something to worry about for others, but nowadays when you two were apart, you were both teased by your respective friends for constantly being on your phones texting each other. So now, you were beginning to worry.
Surely not.
Surely, it cannot be happening again. You had given her a clear warning last time, if she was to do it again then you were gone. Three strikes, and she was out.
But it was indeed radio silence from her for the past few hours. It was nearing 4pm now, signalling the end of your work day, and you had a bad feeling.
No, not anger, it was worry.
And as you reached the door of your apartment a short while later, your worries were confirmed.
Alexia: Hi guapa, sorry for not replying. I got injured in training and they sent me to hospital. Nothing serious but I had scans and they said I have broke my ACL. Not great but I'm okayđŤśđź
"Ale! ÂżEres estĂşpido?" Mapi scolds her friend after peeking at her phone to see the message she had pressured her to send for the past hour. (Are you stupid?)
"No quiero quĂŠ ella se preocupe." Alexia mumbles, sliding her phone back in her pocket and looking out the window of the van. (I don't want her to worry.)
"Ay ay ay." Mapi sighs. She knows what she has to do. "Mujer tonta." (Silly woman.)
Mapi: Chica do not listen to your girlfriend. She is stupid, she is not okay. She needs you, please ring her!!
You read the text from Mapi as soon as you get it. Quickly, you barge through your door and set your bag down before going to your room, flopping down on your bed, and ringing your girlfriend.
"Ni se te occura ignorarlo. Contestarlo." Mapi demands when your call comes through, slapping Alexia's shoulder lightly from her seat in the row behind. (Don't even think about ignoring it. Answer it.)
"Hola." Alexia answers your call quietly.
"Ale. How are you?" You ask in a concerned sigh.
"Um." Her eyes shift around uncomfortably at the question, struggling to answer. "I don't know."
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry." You close your eyes and will the tears to leave; now was not the time.
"There is nothing to do now." Alexia states harshly, not really directed at you but just at the world in general.
"I know." You frown. "So many people are there to support you though, my love. So many people. Including me. I'll be with you every step of the way, okay?"
"There isn't anything you can do. I don't need you to do anything, this is obviously something I have to do on my own. I don't need you."
Alexia's response feels like a stab in your heart. You know in her current circumstance, with it being so fresh still, you shouldn't take it personally. But after everything you've been through together, everything she's put you through, it slips through the cracks of your insecurities. The only comfort you get is the background noise of Mapi swearing and shouting at Alexia in thick and fast Spanish.
"Don't be like that, Ale. I want to support you, do you not remember everything we've been through?" You hit back instantly.
Alexia feels a lump forming in her throat as she recognises herself slipping back into that mindset she had tried so hard to destroy. She hadn't planned for this to happen though. As naĂŻve as it might be, she didn't think this would ever happen to her. But, it has. Now not only does she have to accept that, she has to accept that she has people around her to make the journey easier. And that starts with you.
"Sorry, amor. I didn't mean that. I need you. More than anyone, I am so sorry for saying that. I really, so wish you were here." Alexia admits brokenly, covering her eyes and clutching at the phone almost desperately.
"I wish I was there too." You whisper back, placing a hand over your heart. "Let me in, please."
"I will, I do need you. I just... never thought this could happen." Alexia cries silently as she hides her face in her jumper. "I don't know what to do."
"What you are going to do is take the necessary steps to ensure your health, Ale. It's going to be as much a mental journey as it will a physical one, so you need to take time to come to terms with this, however long that takes, before doing anything else. But we've got you. We're going to take care of you, and you will get through this."
"I don't know, amor. I... it's too soon to know." Alexia admits as much as it pains her. There's too many thoughts in her head, too many possible outcomes, setbacks, and challenges she could face along this long road before she even considers the end result.
"Okay, I understand." You get up from your bed and dart back to the main room to get your diary from your work bag. Checking it quickly, you make a key decision. "How about I pack my bags and get on a flight to you tonight?"
Immediately, Alexia's first instinct is to tell you no, tell you she doesn't need that, that you don't need to worry, it's not necessary. But that's muscle memory, not her true feelings.
"You would really do that?" Alexia mumbles hopefully.
"I absolutely would. I want to be with you, and you need me." You tell her truthfully.
"What about work?" Alexia wonders, looking down at her swollen knee that really hardly even hurt anymore.
"Forget work, amor. You are more important." You answer definitively.
"I would feel so much better if you were here."
That's all it took. By midnight, you were 36,000 feet in the air, on your way to your girlfriend.
When you arrived at the hotel in the early hours of the morning, she was awake and waiting for you in her room. You hug her immediately, and Alexia can't recall a time she had desperately needed to feel the warm embrace of another person outside of her family. It was tender, sensitive, and healing in its own way despite everything that was down the road.
The first and probably the most important challenge came a week later, back in Barcelona. You were sat in the pre-surgery waiting room with Alexia who had been prepped for her reconstruction surgery, gripping one of her large hands with both of yours as she lay, wracked with nerves.
Questions, worries, and insecurities bounced around her mind so intensely, she could hardly even land on a single thought. It was severely overwhelming, which she knew was not needed right now before such a crucial moment. Yet, she couldn't stop the barrage of questions that began to spill out of her.
"What if I never recover?" Alexia murmurs, an arm behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. You frowned and squeezed her hand - this wasn't the first time you'd heard this question.
"We can't know that yet, Ale. QuĂŠ serĂĄ, serĂĄ." You remind her. (Whatever will be, will be.)
"FĂştbol es mi vida." She states ever so quietly, it was hard to catch but of course you did.
"I know. I have no doubt you'll be back playing football, Alexia. But if for some reason you don't, there are so many options. You can do anything you put your mind to."
"What if... I am not Alexia again? On the pitch?"
You sigh and stand up to move towards the top of the bed where her head lay.
"MĂrame." You request in a soft voice. She turns to look at you with glossy eyes and a quivering lower lip. "We have to get through this surgery first, vale? I hear all of your concerns, amor, they are normal and I understand each and every one. But the most important thing right now is ensuring you are in the right head space going into this operation. So, we're going to take some deep breaths together, wipe those irritating tears-"
She chuckles and at that and rubs her eyes; one time, she had voiced her distaste about crying to you. You found it so endearing that she felt that way, much to her annoyance, and spent the last couple months convincing her it was okay to cry. To your face, she still hated it. Behind your back? She loved that she now had a person to go to when she felt the inevitable tears coming. But of course she still despised doing it, it was just slightly more bearable around you.
"And we're going to replace this knotted, messy string of anxious thoughts with our favourite memories. Breathe with me now, sĂ?"
She nods and you breathe in sync together for a few minutes until Alexia's mind is back present in the room, in the current situation, and not stuck in a nasty cloud of anxiety.
"So, memory one: our holiday this Summer. It was the best holiday I have ever been on. Not because of the location, although it was beautiful, but because of the people I was with. I saw a new side of you, amor, you were so relaxed and it was so fun being with your family and friends. I can't wait for next time."
You're both wearing matching smiles as you reminisce the best few weeks you'd had in a while.
"It was amazing having you with us, guapa. The best guest."
"Gracias, bebĂŠ." You place a quick kiss on her cheek, followed by her lips. "Memory two: the first time I met Mapi and Ingrid on that double date at our favourite restaurant."
Alexia laughs before you've even finished telling the memory.
"When she put her wine all over herself and the waiter?" You nod and laugh with her, beyond relieved to see her with a genuine smile on her face. You hadn't seen too many of them recently.
"Yeah, when she spilt her wine. And then tried to blame it on the waiter- he looked so young! He's probably never had a drop of alcohol in his life!"
The two of you laugh and share memories for a little while longer, until the time arrives for Alexia to be taken into her surgery. You whisper a seemingly endless amount of reassuring words in her ear, before she's wheeled away out of your sight. For just under three hours, you sit nervously in the family waiting room, praying for probably the first time in your life, wishing that the operation went well.
Honestly, you could have been sick with relief when the surgeon came out and gave you every detail possible about it, ultimately saying it went off without a hitch. Then, you were being led to Alexia's room where she would stay for the night, excited to see your groggy but possibly loopy girlfriend.
"Hi Ale." You greet quietly, walking in.
"Hm, hola amor." Alexia rasps out, giving you an awkward wave that makes you giggle.
"How do you feel?" You take a seat in the chair next to her, placing a comforting hand on her forearm.
"As long as I still have two knees, bien." She gives you a dopey grin, one you don't think you've ever seen before, and you wish you could get your phone out to photograph it.
"The doctors tell me you do indeed have two knees, so I don't think you need to worry about that." You smile at her, seeing her nod and rest her head back.
"ÂżEstĂĄs bien?" She wonders with a light hum, shakily taking your hand and covering it with both of hers.
"Yes, I'm okay, don't worry about me though." You answer humourously.
"Sabes, te amo muchĂsimo." Alexia states, and from the sounds of it, it sounds like she's about to make some kind of speech. "I did some thinking waiting for you to come here. I just love you. You are perfect para mĂ. I did two bad things to you, but here you sit with me. Perfecta. NiĂąa mĂa. I almost did another bad thing, when my knee broke for no reason, but Mapi stopped me and then you saved me. What's that song you like?"
The random question seems disjointed and out of place in the things she was saying - which had you completely melting - but regardless you answer.
"I like many songs, Ale, you'll have to be more specific."
"No. You know which one." You squint at her confusedly, causing her to give a dramatic sigh. "Ay. The old one. That you did not stop playing on holiday, from that night on the beach."
"Stand by me?" You ask in a laugh.
"SĂ, that one. I never tell you, but I love it too." She smiles bashfully, then suddenly frowns. "Sing it, please. I can remember the words but not the song."
"There's no way I'm singing right now." You laugh at her, only resulting in her frown growing. So much so, she looks like an angry toddler.
"Por favor, guapa. That is how I feel about you, that song. 'I won't be afraid if you stand by me'. This stupid ACL can go fuck itself because I have you."
You've never heard her say that phrase in her life, but right now you couldn't even laugh. Your heart warmed at her words, completely falling in love with her all over again.
"You really want me to sing it right this second? In the middle of a hospital?" You respond, because at this moment in time there's not a thing you'd say no to, not when she was being so adorable and honest, even if it was partially due to her pain meds and the anesthetic.
"SĂ. Come lay with me, here." She shuffles to one side of the bed, scaring you since she was a little shaky and not very coherent, but she managed to do it.
"I'm not sure I'm allowed." You say, unsure.
"I'm sick, my rules." She shrugs.
"You're not sick." You laugh, but nevertheless, you stand from your chair, slip your shoes off, and slot onto the bed beside her.
"Venga, canta." She orders sweetly as she looks up at you from her position slightly lower down on the bed with her beautiful, irresistible face. With a sigh, you clear your throat gently and do as she says.
"When the night has come." Your voice is soft and quiet, but it's enough for Alexia, who gazes up at you with more adoration than you thought ever to be possible. "And the land is dark. And the moon is the only light we'll see."
"Ay, I remember now." She says quietly as not to disturb you.
"No I won't be afraid. Oh, I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me."
Alexia simply smiles contently and rests her head on your shoulder, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and humming along with you.
"So darlin', darlin', stand by me. Oh, stand by me. Oh stand... stand by me, stand by me."
Her body grows heavier beside you and her breathing slows down, so you stop singing, thinking she was asleep. But...
"If you stand by me, I can do anything. Mi mundo no es nada sin ti, pero me siento invencible cuando estoy contigo." (My world is nothing without you, but I feel invincible when I'm with you.)
She mumbles her statement quietly, before she drifts off into a peaceful rest. Your eyes are burning with tears at her words - just two simple sentences, whispered quietly on the brink of sleep - but they have an impact larger than either of you could ever recognise.
And when she returns to the pitch ten months later, that song being the anthem of her recovery (only to yours and hers knowledge), three words are chanted in her head. Not 'I love you' - instead, the three words of a song which became your own love language for the rest of your relationship.
#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#woso#alexia putellas one shot#woso community
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You Own Me
Pairing: Scud x Female Reader
Word count: 2,2k
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, terribly written smut, p-in-v sex, creampie (the reader is on pills), sub!Scud, dom!reader, dirty talk, vouyeurism, degradation, praising, pet names, Scud calling reader a mistress, alcohol consuming, mentions of pot smoking, profanity, bad English (not my first language).
It was a late, lonely evening in your apartment. You were tipsy from alcohol that had been consumed before. Sitting on the couch, your head laying on the throw pillows, eyes closed. Some music was humming in the background. You needed to vent, and that was the maximum you could afford.
You secretly wanted some fling with him. That damn stoner was as hot as fuck. And if you hadn't known the details of how he was saved by Blade, you would try something long-term, but no, no, and no. So you were quite cold with him and bitchy. To your surprise, it worked the opposite way for him.Â
That had been a stressful working day with Scud, who was flirting the whole day while you were trying to focus on new explosives for Bladeâs next mission. It wasnât so unusual about his flirty and touchy nature. He always tried to fill your space with his presence. Sometimes, he just sits silently in his chair, smoking and observing every move from you. Or traps you between him and a wall when you meet in a corridor. But this time, he almost crossed the line. Scudâs hands were accidentally brushing your butt when he walked by. He was trying to help you with explosives, standing behind you with an obvious boner poking between your ass cheeks. Or saying some pieces of advice in your ear with his sweet and relaxed voice, which sounded dubious. Damn, perv.
So, this teasing game at work today made you lose focus, and that damn lab could have been almost destroyed to the ground, but it ended with a local fire that you both knocked out. It was an understatement how Blade was furious, as it was quite luxurious to lose all the tech and valuable staff. After that incident, Josh was staying flirty, and you just sent him off and went home furious.Â
You were almost falling asleep out of stress, tiredness, and the volume of alcohol in your blood system when you got a message from Scud. The display on your phone was showing a voice message. Not a usual behavior from him but still. Is it an apology message? Expecting him to tell some stupid jokes after smoking pot as an apology, you tiredly played it.Â
Your eyes widened almost immediately upon hearing him whimpering; there were some squelching sounds in the background. He was whispering in a shaky voice.Â
âAh! Want you so badly. Just bend you over the table and fuck you stupidly till you canât walk.â
JEESUS! The blood pulsating in your temples was almost hurting, and a sheer layer of sweat appeared on your forehead. Damn, that stupid stoner probably mispressed the recipient. But that didn't stop you from replaying it several times until you found yourself fantasizing and relieving your sexual tension.Â
However, it didnât let you fall asleep until the early morning. Being tired, worn out, and angry, you were preparing for work. You were craving an explanation from him, so you decided to wear the sluttiest outfit you had in your closet just in case your guesses were true that that damn message was addressed to you. Wearing a top with no bra underneath and a mini skirt, you went to work.
You came to the warehouse a bit later than Scud, who was already smoking and welding some parts. He turned around to greet you with a smirk on his face but froze, seeing you in a skimpy look. Tits with no bra evidently bounced under the top every time you made a step. Your legs seemed even longer with the help of the mini.Â
âMorning,â he mumbled through the joint between his mouth. You silently sat down on the chair next to him.Â
âWanna get some explanations from you.â You were angry as fuck, but you were doing your best to hide it. âYesterday evening, I got one interesting message from youâŚâÂ
âAn interesting message?â He puffed out the smoke, playing dumb.Â
âI can explain,â but he was trapped with your foot placed between his legs, applying a slight pressure to his hardness and balls.Â
âShit, no way he doesnât remember anything; he is playing with me. A stud.â You silently took out your phone from your pocket and played that cursed message. His skin reddened in seconds, his lower lip was trapped between his teeth, his chest was heaving, and a smirk was forming. He shifted in his seat to stand up.
âSon of a bitch, youâve even got aroused already,â you thought. âThen explain.âÂ
He gasped, his throat seeking air. He licked his lips, feeling dizzy, and that stupid smirk never left his face.Â
âI was just⌠I smoked a lot, and⌠Iâm really sorry; I barely remember it.â He was acting, clearly enjoying the setting.Â
Your foot added some pressure to his arousal, now evidently visible to you. He whimpered, bucked his hips to your foot, and held onto the table so his fingers became white. You tilted your head to the side, your darkened eyes boring into his.Â
âYou, working almost in oblivion, are telling me now that you smoked too much?â He didn't reply; he just breathed heavily, being dark red. What a whore! You put off your leg and stood up, seeing him doing the same, but you just pushed him down back to the chair.Â
âSo, will you try to explain again?âÂ
âSit down.â You took a plastic cable tie from the table you had laid your eyes on before and walked behind him. You aggressively grabbed his hands behind him and tied them. But surprisingly to you, he obeyed, and it pissed you off even more. âDamn, he literally craves my attention.â You walked back to your chair and sat down.Â
He breathed heavier and more rapidly. âOkay, it was on purpose. Just tired of dancing around and stuff. You know what I want from you.â He licked his dry lips, observing you with a hungry look and already undressing you mentally, if not fucking you like an animal.Â
âAnd you wonât get it,�� you replied in a cold tone.
âWhy?â He pouted playfully and shifted in the seat as if trying to free himself from the plastic tie.Â
âI wanna show you how it is to be a tease. Wanna make you beg.â You spread your legs and shifted your underwear aside, letting your fingers glide over your arousal and smearing it over your clit.Â
âHolly shit,â his eyes were glued to your movement.
You gasped and rolled your head back, back curved, with the other hand placed on the chair for stability. He licked his lips and bit them down with anticipation. His boner was painfully restrained in his jeans.Â
You whispered, playing with yourself, lost in pleasure. âYou like the view?â And you inserted two fingers inside your pussy earning a lewd moan from yourself. You heard him breathing rapidly, almost panting.Â
âI want you, Y/N. Pleeease.â He was squirming, trying to find any friction in his jeans, but it failed. His cock was painfully trapped and leaking with pre-cum appearing as a wet spot on the fabric.Â
âWho told you if you beg, you get what you want?â Your fingers moved back and forth inside you.Â
âFuck,â he whimpered, which made you laugh deviously and move your fingers faster, which made you clench, and you understood you wouldn't last long.Â
âPlease. Want you to use me. Wanna be your fuck toy. Just let me feel you.â His whining sent a jolt of pleasure. Understanding it was your approaching orgasm, you did the impossible and stopped yourself. You put your fingers out when you saw him opening his mouth, slightly hinting to taste you. You stood up in front of him and shoved your fingers in his mouth, which he started to suck eagerly momentarily. He was moaning while sucking your fingers, whispering in between.
âMmmph, you taste so good, girl. I want more. I want all of you, please.â
âThink you deserve it?â Despite your cold demeanor, you were enjoying the view, which made you even more aroused.Â
âYes, please. I wanna take all of you. Wanna feel you tight around me. Please, Y/N.â He hummed and sucked your fingers.Â
âMy needy little slutâ
âYours and only. Just let me dive into your sweet pussy, please. I will do anything for you.â
âAnything?â
âYeah, anything,â he whimpered needily. âJust fuck me already.â
These words made you clench around nothing, so you put off your fingers, seeing his hungry and desperate gaze, and decided to finally do what you wanted for so long.Â
âHips up!â You commanded, unbuttoning his jeans, and he obeyed with no hesitation. You pulled his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing.Â
âAh, finally,â he gasped with relief when you suddenly grabbed his jaw in your hand.Â
âFinally? How come those little needy brains thought I would fuck you, huh?â Your other hand grabbed his cock, smearing pre-cum over his tip, and started stroking it teasingly slowly. He shivered and exhaled shakily, his mouth agape.
âIâm sorry, Y/N. Thought you're gonna show your sympathy towards me.â He let out a whine, his cock twitching. âIâm all yours, Y/N. Just sit on me, ride me, use me.â You started to stroke him faster, seeing his cock almost ready to cum while Scud was squirming, whimpering, and almost crying out of pleasure. And you suddenly stopped hearing a bitter whine from him and whispering, âPlease, please, please.â
You pulled up your skirt a bit and stood closer, ready to sit down on his leaking length. You were lowering above his cock, shifting your underwear aside, and finally sank on his tip, letting out a soft gasp. Meanwhile, Scud was babbling yeses and other stuff you didn't pay attention to as you slid down his above-average shaft. When you finally consumed him whole and were adjusting to his size, he whined more.Â
âOhhh, please!â
You felt a sudden wave of hunger and tugged his hair on the back of his head, making him gasp and open his mouth.Â
âShut up, Josh!â You closed the distance between your faces and kissed him aggressively, though passionately, shoving your tongue in his mouth. And you both moaned sweetly, finally getting what you both craved. You started rolling your hips, slowly teasing both of you. Scud whispered between kisses.Â
âYou feel so good, baby,â and at this moment you knew you were damn lost, tugging his hair more than before and riding him in a fast rhythm.Â
Panting, moans, whimpers, groans, skin slapping, and lips smacking were making an obscene symphony filling the space of the warehouse. You rode him furiously as if you were a nymphomaniac chasing your high, enjoying every moment.Â
Scud was even more lost in pleasure. Totally fucked out, falling apart, his eyes half closed, his mouth babbling sweet nothings. The image was so beautiful, it almost looked like a piece of art.Â
âYou are using me so well. Want my cock to belong only to you, mistress. Want you to ride me forever.â You clenched around him involuntarily, earning moans from both of you.Â
âMistress, huh?â You smirked deviously and leaned to his ear, saying in a lower and silent voice. âAnd you are nothing more than a fuck toy.â
âFuck!â He panted and rolled his head back, his eyes threatening to close. You grabbed his choker, pulling him closer to your face, and took a handful of his hair again while riding him.Â
âEyes on me!â he ignored as he was in a haze, obviously enjoying every second of the intimacy. âEYES.ON.ME.â You slowed your movements until he opened his eyes, drunk with sex.Â
âFuck!â You whimpered, feeling your pussy clenching as this view made you closer to your approaching orgasm. Just a couple of frictions, and you are done. You whispered, lips inching from his mouth.Â
âWanna cum inside? Iâm on pills.â You exhaled deeply and choked on your pleasure, riding yourself slowly through your orgasm, and this was the last straw for him.
âAh, fuck!â He groaned, moaning, his eyes rolling back, his body jolting. You felt him pulsing inside you, spilling his warmth. Scudâs panting, mixed with cries of satisfaction, echoed in the building.Â
After some moments, he tiredly looked at you, and you placed a gentle and slow kiss on his lips, which he eagerly reciprocated. You leaned back after a while and said silently.Â
âHope you liked it.â You smirked a little and took scissors from the table to free his tied hands, earning a tight hug from him and hungry kisses mixed with moans. Then he pulled away a bit to admire your face.
âMe? Liked it?â He chuckled tiredly. âGonna send you more voice messages from now on.â
âDork.â You tried to stand up from him but were tugged back to him, earning a gasp from you and a confused look.
âNow your personal dork, mistress. You own me,â he smirked. You smirked too and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, letting yourself get lost in him.Â
#scud fromeyer#joshua fromeyer#josh fromeyer#scud smut#scud x reader#scud blade 2#blade 2#norman reedus
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Could you write something for Aemond being protective of his pregnant wife during the dinner scene in ep8? Like she gets caught up in the middle of the fight and Aemonds just having none of the Strong boys shit as they endanger his beloved
Hi my lovely Anons! These are all brilliant requests by the way, and thank you for reading my works!
Aemond x pregnant!reader | the dreaded family dinner | hurt reader | protective dad Aemond
You looked down to where Aemond knelt before you, his hands reverently holding the swell of your pregnant belly as your hands carded through his long hair. Â He pressed his lips to where your child grew, looking up at you reverently with his lilac eye. Â âYou will be a wonderful mother, Y/N.â Â He rose to kiss you, pouring adoration into the way his lips moved with yours, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. Â You gasped softly as he deepened the embrace, his hands cupping your waist, pulling your round abdomen flush against him.
âAre you ready to go down to dinner?â Â You murmured, your breath still mingling with his.
âMm.â Â Aemond breathed, his eye still half closed as he rested his forehead against yours. âIâd much rather spend the evening alone with you.â
âAs would I.â Â You kissed him once more before extricating yourself from his grasp. âHowever, your mother would not be pleased with either of us.â
âIndeed, she would not!â Â Aemond chuckled, opening the door for you as you both exited your bedchambers.
Arm in arm, you walked together down the winding stone corridors, reaching the dining hall just as Aegon joined you. Â âReady to break bread with the wolves, brother?â Â Aegon rolled his eyes, pushing open the oaken doors.
Aemond didnât answer, though his arm around you tightened slightly. Â Alicent and Rhaenyra were already sitting at the long table, carefully avoiding each otherâs gazes. Â Jacaerys and Lucerys glanced over from their corner of the room, looking over you, Aemond and Aegon as you entered. Â You noticed Jacaerysâ eyes drop to take in the curve of your belly, a sneer flitting across his features as he looked at Aemond beside you. Â You held Aemondâs arm a little tighter as he guided you to your seats. Â You sat, taking the weight off your tired feet, Helaena to your immediate right and Aemond sitting at the end of the table to your left. Â
You could tell how tense your husband was, your attention thoroughly distracted from the light conversation around the table. Â Aemondâs gaze was hard, flitting between Jacaerys and Lucerys who were studiously avoiding his intent eye. Â You started slightly in your seat as King Viserys began speaking loudly, his breathing ragged as he urged his family to set aside their differences and try to start anew. Â Your gaze flitted to where Aemond studied his plate, his long fingers tapping next to where his goblet sat.
A round of toasts began, starting with Rhaenyra and slowly moving around the table. Â You didnât hear what Aegon murmured to Jace, but it was enough to cause the boy to slam his fists upon the table, rising to his feet in anger. Â Beside you, Aemond slowly got to his own feet, eyeing his nephew as though daring him to continue. Â Jace hesitated a moment, his gaze flicking briefly to your own face before he raised his own goblet in a toast to his uncles. Aemond shared a glance with you as he returned to his seat, you quirked an eyebrow, but he shook his head slightly.
Lilting music began to fill the room, servants bearing food and drink hurried to service the nobles as you all began eating and chatting. Â You turned to engage Helaena in conversation just as Jacaerys asked her to dance with him. Â Aegon watched them depart for the middle of the room, hand in hand, before turning to share a bemused look with Aemond. Â Your husband shifted in his seat, the better to keep an eye on Jace, his face set in a stony expression. Â You rubbed your stomach absent-mindedly, stirring the soup before you while deep in thought. Â
âExcuse me a moment.â Â You stood, gathering your skirts as you made your way passed Aemond, touching his shoulder lightly as you went, walking down the steps toward the privy. Â
After washing your hands in the water basin, you slowly ascended the stairs back into the dining room only to see your husband standing at the end of the table, his goblet held aloft. âCome, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.â
âI dare you to say that again.â Â Jace said from where he stood next to a confused Helaena. Â
âWhy? Â It was only a compliment.â Â He moved around the corner of the table to meet Jace as he advanced. âDo you not think yourself strong?â
You moved quicker than you thought possible in your heavily pregnant state, seeing the unfolding of events before they happened. Â Jace swung a heavy punch toward the scarred side of Aemondâs face. âNo!â You shouted, interjecting yourself between the two men just in time to block Jaceâs blow with your forearm, the force of it knocking you back against Aemondâs chest.
You used your other hand to try and push Jace away, but the boy grabbed your wrist roughly, yanking you forward with such force you audibly gasped in pain. Â
âJace!â Â Rhaenyra yelled.
âAegon!â Â Alicent scolded as her eldest slammed Lucerys into the table. Â
The momentum of Jaceâs pull as he tried to get you out of his way caught you off-guard, your arms unable to catch your body as you tripped, landing heavily upon the stone floor. Â Deathly silence fell in the room, everyone seemed to be collectively holding their breath, watching as you kept still, assessing the damage.
âAemond, no!â Â It was Alicentâs voice again, sounding more scared than angry. Â
You looked around from where youâd propped yourself up on your hands, seeing your husband with his hand at Jaceâs throat, pinning him to the wall, a thin dagger at the boyâs throat.
âAemond!â Â Alicent cried again, rushing to your side instead of trying to get her son off Jacaerys. Â She looked you over, worry etched into her face.
âYou think to injure my wife.â Â Aemond seethed, his voice a deadly hiss. âTo manhandle her when she is so vulnerable.â Â
âAemondâŚâ  You spoke soothingly as Alicent helped you back to your feet. You glanced with worry to where Daemon was making careful progress toward your husband. âIâm alright.  Aemond, let him go.  I need your help.â
He released Jacaerys at once, the boy almost losing his footing as Aemond turned to you.  Your husband was quickly at your side, supporting your back with one hand while his hand worriedly stroked at your abdomen.  His violet eye roved your face. âAre you injured?  Is-is our childâŚ?â Â
âIâm alright. Please, letâs just go.â Â You said again, shooting Alicent a grateful look as Aemond helped guide you from the dining hall. Â She watched the two of you go, her face a mask of worry and sadness.
âI could kill him.â Â Aemond spoke, his voice a growl from where he walked beside you, his hands still supporting half your weight.
âSomehow, I donât think thatâd go over well.â Â You tried to make light of the situation, but Aemond wasnât having it.
âIf he so much as looks at you again, I will feed him to Vhagar after I finish with him.â
The anger in his voice was palpable, your own skin prickled with it. Â You turned to him, halting your progress down the corridor, taking his tense face in your hands.
âI am uninjured, my love.â Â You kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling as he moved his head into your touch. âOur child is still whole. Â There is no danger.â
He caressed your hair, his gaze gentle upon your face.  His hands traced the curves of your body, holding the swell of where your child grew within you.  âIf anything happened to you⌠I would be lost.â
You kissed him, the two of your clinging to each other, the adrenaline wearing off, leaving you exhausted but relieved your little family was safe from harm.
#aemond fluff#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye x reader#hotd aemond x reader#prince aemond x reader#hotd x reader#aemond imagine#aemond drabblle#aemond one shot#aemond fanfic#aemond fic#aemond stannies#pro aemond targaryen#aemond angst#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#house of the dragon aemond#hotd aemond
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Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Muggleborn!reader ~ Unobtainable
You sat at the long Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, absentmindedly pushing a piece of toast around your plate as your friends chattered around you. Your eyes, however, were glued to the Slytherin table. More specifically, to Draco Malfoy.
There he sat, surrounded by his usual group of Slytherins: Pansy Parkinson practically glued to his side, Blaise Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle sitting nearby. Draco had that haughty, almost effortless air about him, his platinum blonde hair falling perfectly into place, his pale eyes scanning the hall with that signature sneer on his lips. He looked bored, as he usually did, but to you, even that bored expression seemed... alluring.
You sighed quietly, tearing your gaze away from him before anyone could notice where you'd been looking. It was embarrassing enough to have a crush on Draco Malfoy, of all people. A Malfoy, whose family made it very clear what they thought of Muggleborns like you. A Malfoy, who never passed up the opportunity to make a cruel remark or flash a superior smirk at you and your kind.
Yet, despite all that, your heart raced every time you saw him.
It had started in third year, a time when you were still figuring out your place at Hogwarts. You had always been a bit shy, more comfortable blending into the background than standing out. But one day, you'd caught sight of Draco in the corridor, his robes billowing as he walked with that confident stride of his, and something had just... clicked. You couldn't explain it, but from that moment on, you couldn't stop thinking about him.
It was ridiculous, really. He would never notice someone like you, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who kept her head down and stayed out of trouble. Draco only associated with the elite, the purebloods. And yet, you found yourself daydreaming about him far more often than you'd care to admit.
"Are you even listening?" your friend, Megan Jones, asked, snapping you out of your reverie.
You blinked, realizing that you'd been staring blankly at your plate while Megan had been talking. "Oh, sorry," you said quickly. "What were you saying?"
Megan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You've been staring at the Slytherin table again, haven't you?"
Your face flushed, and you quickly shook your head, trying to deny it. "What? No, Iâ"
"Come on, Y/N," Megan said, laughing. "It's obvious. You've had a thing for Malfoy for ages."
You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks burning. "I don'tâit's not like that," you stammered, but Megan just grinned knowingly.
"Right. Sure it's not," she said, giving you a playful nudge. "It's okay, though. I mean, he's... he's not bad-looking, I'll give you that."
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. The last thing you wanted was for your friends to know about your hopeless crush. They would never let you live it down.
"It's just... he's so out of my league," you muttered, feeling the weight of the truth in your words. "He doesn't even know I exist."
Meganâs teasing expression softened slightly. "Well, I mean... yeah, he's a bit of a prat, to be honest. But maybe that's a good thing? You deserve better, Y/N."
You appreciated her attempt to cheer you up, but it didn't make the ache in your chest any less real. You knew you were setting yourself up for disappointment by harboring feelings for someone who would never look twice at you. But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to get over it, you just... couldn't.
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur, and soon you found yourself in Potions class, seated at your usual table with your Hufflepuff classmates. Professor Snape was droning on about the intricacies of brewing a particularly complex potion, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldnât help but steal a glance at Draco, who sat a few rows ahead, his posture relaxed, yet his concentration sharp as he took notes.
You had always admired his intelligence. For all his arrogance and disdain, Draco was smartâthere was no denying that. It made you wish, irrationally, that he would notice your intelligence, too. You werenât the top student in your year, but you did well enough, especially in subjects like Charms and Herbology. Maybe, in another world, he might have noticed that.
But this wasnât another world. This was Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy was... untouchable.
The lesson ended, and you gathered your things, heading out of the classroom with Megan by your side. As you walked down the corridor, you couldnât resist looking over your shoulder, watching as Draco and his friends made their way toward the Slytherin common room.
"You really need to stop torturing yourself," Megan said gently, noticing the direction of your gaze.
"I know," you sighed, feeling a heavy knot of frustration settle in your stomach. "It's just... ugh, I don't even know why I like him."
Megan gave you a sympathetic look. "Maybe it's just because he's so... unattainable? I mean, people always want what they can't have."
"Maybe," you mumbled, though you werenât entirely convinced. There was something about Dracoâsomething that drew you in, even when you knew it shouldnât.
Later that afternoon, you found yourself in the library, trying to focus on your Transfiguration homework. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldnât shake the thoughts of Draco from your mind. The way he walked, the way his hair fell perfectly into place, the way he looked so effortlessly put-togetherâit all swirled in your head, making it impossible to concentrate.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. Maybe Megan was right. Maybe you needed to stop torturing yourself. After all, Draco Malfoy would never look at you the way you wanted him to. He barely even acknowledged your existence. To him, you were just another face in the crowd.
But as you sat there, lost in thought, you heard a voice that made your heart stop.
"Y/N."
Your eyes flew open, and you turned to see Draco standing there, his expression unreadable as he looked down at you. For a moment, you couldnât believe it. Was this really happening? Was Draco Malfoy actually speaking to you?
"Uh, hi," you managed to say, your voice coming out shakier than you intended.
Dracoâs gaze flickered over your face, then down to the book in front of you. "You dropped this," he said coolly, holding out a quill.
You stared at the quill for a moment before realizing it was yours. You must have knocked it off the table without noticing. "Oh, thanks," you said quickly, taking it from him, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment.
Draco didnât say anything else. He simply nodded, turned, and walked away, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence.
Your heart was racing, your mind spinning. Draco Malfoy had just spoken to you. He had picked up your quill. It was a small, insignificant interaction, but to you, it felt like the world had shifted ever so slightly.
For the rest of the day, you replayed that moment over and over in your head, analyzing every detail. The way he had looked at you, the sound of his voice, the brief touch of his handâit was all burned into your memory.
But even as you clung to that small interaction, a part of you knew that it didnât mean anything. Draco had only spoken to you because of the quill. He hadnât sought you out, hadnât noticed you for any reason other than that.
Still, you couldnât help but feel a spark of hope.
Over the next few days, you tried to push the thought of Draco out of your mind, but it was easier said than done. Every time you saw him in the corridors, your heart fluttered, and every time he passed by without so much as a glance in your direction, that familiar ache settled in your chest.
You knew it was silly. You knew that you were setting yourself up for heartache. But even knowing all of that, you couldnât stop the way you felt.
One evening, as you sat in the Hufflepuff common room with your friends, Megan nudged you playfully. "You know, you should just talk to him," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
You rolled your eyes, though the thought of actually approaching Draco made your stomach twist with nerves. "Yeah, right. And say what? 'Hi, Iâve had a hopeless crush on you for years, please donât laugh at me.'"
Megan laughed, shaking her head. "No, seriously! You never know. Maybe heâll surprise you."
You smiled weakly, though you didnât share her optimism. As far as you were concerned, Draco Malfoy was as unreachable as the stars.
And yet, despite everything, you couldnât help but wonder what it would be like if, just once, he saw you the way you saw him.
As you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you allowed yourself to dream. To imagine a world where Draco noticed youânot just as the girl who dropped her quill, but as someone worth noticing.
It was a foolish dream, you knew. But it was your dream, and for now, it was enough.
#draco lucius malfoy#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#harry potter#slytherin#hufflepuff
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Winter's King 6
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: i slept so gosh dang heavy.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iâm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenât forgotten those!) Please do not just put âmoreâ. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. đ
You haul up the cask, one of the smaller but still heavy for your arms. The stairs are treacherous to the upper floors of the castle and you waddle down the corridors hugging the vessel with heavy steps. As you near the ivory room, you slow and face the wooden barrier. Should you knock?Â
You look down. You canât balance the cask with one arm. You lean and tap with your foot as best you can. You wait and hear only the draughts flowing in from the windows. Then at once, the hinges groan and the door swings inward, the king already in retreat.Â
You enter, trying not to show your struggle, and carry it to the round table. You set it down with a loud clunk and your shoulders ache. You feel around your apron pockets for the spout. You sense the kingâs mood clouding in the chamber.Â
âIf you knew it was to be heavy, you could have said so,â he grits as he sits across the table from you.Â
âYour highness, it is not very much,â you lie. Your arms feel weak as you put the spout in place. You did not bring a stein. âI will fetch a cup--âÂ
âI donât care about the ale,â he rests one hand against the handle. âIf you are thirsty, there is a cup in my bedroll.âÂ
You back away, confused. You donât protest or question him. Did you mishear him? He did request ale.Â
âSo I am wed,â he mulls and toys with a loose lace hanging from the open collar of his shirt. It is untucked from his breeches as his hair is tangled around his shoulders.Â
âGood tidings for that, your highness,â you offer the expected courtesy.Â
He looks at you and you wince, putting your head down as you back away. Â
âApologies, I speak out of turn,â you touch your chin.Â
He huffs, âweddings are supposed to be happy, are they not?âÂ
You bow your head lower, âI believe so, your highness.âÂ
He hums and tabs his fingers on the armrest, âI am not very happy.âÂ
You stay as you are. He makes it hard to serve, he is cryptic to the point you canât guess what he wants. You dare to peek up quickly but promptly retract your gaze as you meet his eyes.Â
âSpeak your thoughts, I see them written upon your brow,â he commands.Â
You sway slightly and bend your arms behind you, âyour highness--âÂ
âLook at me,â he demands. You obey.Â
âYour highness,â you start cautiously, âyouâve been at war, perhaps you are sick for your home.âÂ
He scoffs and rubs the coarse stubble on his jaw, âmy home? You would not think that if you knew it.âÂ
You slant your mouth. He raises his hand, gesturing with two fingers, âspeak freely.âÂ
âYou are correct, your highness, I would not know. Iâve never been further than a dayâs ride from this castle. I only hear that the north is cold but anyone might guess that.âÂ
He snorts, âyes, it is cold. And dark. But the mountains, they are beautiful and when the snows fall, they glisten over the ground. So long as you have a fire to warm you, or a body near, it is not so bad.â He closes his eyes and leans his chin on his knuckles, âthere are large elk with trees for antlers and the white wolves who blend into the snow but for their eyes, and the bears who sleep in the caves until the ground thaws in the springs.â He opens his eyes again and stares at you, âwe have no summer there. The butterflies and flowers do not fare for long.âÂ
You imagine the place he describes. Or attempt to. It sounds frightening. No summer?Â
âIâve never seen snow,â you say at last.Â
He sits up and his expression eases, âthen you will to come see it.âÂ
You blink. Is he serious? Is that an order?Â
âI serve the castle--âÂ
âYou serve...â he swallows, âmy wife and by rights I am her master. As she is yours, thus you serve me. She will need a familiar face once we are on to the Hinterlands. They are harrowing and she is weak. You will be her companion to see her through.âÂ
You donât argue. You never do. He is right. All that is Lady Jazleneâs is now his.Â
âAre you excited to come?â He asks.Â
You think. You will do as youâre told thought it is an unexpected, almost undreamt of, opportunity.Â
âI think I am, your highness. It is a far way and Iâve never been very far.âÂ
âMm,â he puts his elbow on the table, almost amused as he watches you, âare you afraid?âÂ
âWhy, yes, certainly,â you answer honestly. âYou speak of bears and wolves. Iâve never seen those either, though I have seen deer.âÂ
âDo not fear, even the bears and the wolves bow to King Geralt,â he lets himself laugh, a bawdy rumbling like thunder. It surprises you, âbut first we must ride south to tidy up the summer countries. I must meet my people, make sure they are not left to ruin.âÂ
You tilt your head but quickly fix it. He drones again, âspeak.âÂ
âThat is kind of you. No, as you said before, prudent. To make certain the people are not unhappy. War leaves scars.âÂ
âIt leaves gaping wounds if one does stitch them up,â he counters, âa wise observation for a maid.âÂ
Your cheeks twitch. You think itâs a compliment. You lower your chin.Â
âAh,â he intones, âdonât. You donât have to hide from me, little maid.âÂ
His last words drag over his tongue. His timbre is like smoke. You feel how it traps the air in your chest. You linger, uncertain, across from him.Â
âWill you sit with me?â He asks and leans forward to pull out the chair nearest to him, âI rarely have pleasant company.âÂ
You hesitate. What about Jazlene? He has her. She is his wife now. You donât dare ask that question. You move carefully around the chair and sit. He stays forward in his chair, his arm on the table.Â
âI have told you of the Hinterlands, but what of you? Iâve seen some of your home but I expect this castle isnât your real home,â he says.Â
âIt is the only home I remember,â you murmur, âIâve been here since I was a girl.âÂ
His gold eyes flick down and he nods, âI didnât...â he looks up again and leans back, a stitch in his brow, âwould it make you unhappy to be away from home?âÂ
You purse your lips. Youâve never thought of leaving. You donât feel any sort of way about the prospect, nothing more than ignorant. You donât know what awaits you outside those walls.Â
âI will go where I am bid,â you say evenly, ânot many get to go so far from home. It would be nice to see more of the world.âÂ
He hums as he watches you, brushing his fingers through his white hair. You watch how his index catches in a wave and he tugs it free with agitation. He pauses, holding out his hand before dropping it to his lap. He inclines his head as if to say, âwhat are you looking at?âÂ
âAre there many people like you there?â You ask, voice shaky.Â
âLike me? There is only one king. Iâve made certain of that.âÂ
âNo, I... never mind,â you curl one hand around the other, âyour highness.âÂ
âOnly me,â he affirms, âand what of you? Iâve yet to meet any like you.âÂ
You furrow your nose, âthere are lots of maids, your highness.âÂ
He doesnât respond and his shoulders drop. He once more runs his hand around his square jaw. He inhales and lets it out slowly.Â
âYou should leave now,â he utters softly, âbefore...â he pauses and his eyes wander to the window, âbefore the dawn.âÂ
You stand and bend your neck, âyes, your highness. I wish you a good sleep and a good marriage.âÂ
He returns only another thick grunt. You leave him without looking back. As youâre shut out in the dark corridor, a clatter comes from the other side. You turn back but do not go through. You smell something stringent and feel something wet seeping into the stitches of your shoes. You kneel and put your fingers in the liquid leaking under the door. Itâs the ale.Â
You stand and lean back on your heel. You never meant to anger the king. You will do well to stay out of the way. You donât think youâll be going to the Hinterlands after all. Merinda is much more fit for a royal court anyhow.Â
âď¸
You sleep hardly an hour before you are on your feet again. The castle is in a flurry to get the horses and luggage on the road. You and Merinda help Lady Jazlene dress as her head threatens to droop this way and that. Sheâs tired and her yawns tickle your throat as you hold back a similar act.Â
Lady Rezlyn enters, already dressed, her dark blue gown slashed with yellow in the sleeves. You and Merinda retreat to busy yourself with miniscule worries. The ladyâs riding gloves and boots. A queenâs gloves and boots.Â
âOh, my daughter,â Rezlyn sweeps over to put her hands to Jazleneâs cheek, admiring her daughter as she ever does, âI see your wedding night has left you fatigued. I expected no less of a man like the king.âÂ
The lewd snicker from the duchessâ mouth makes your stomach churn. Jazlene trickles out a small chuckle and wriggles free of her motherâs grasp. She turns and sits to let you lace on her boots.Â
âWhat is it, then?â Rezlyn challenges, folding her arms. âDid it hurt very much? I told you, daughter, it wouldnât be very pleasant if you stay dry as parchment.âÂ
âMother, please,â Jazlene begs, âI wasnât...â she shakes her head and sniffs, âit was wonderful.â Her lie is told by the tremour in her void. She raises her head, âHe is a true king and I am his queen now. These are matters between man and wife.âÂ
Rezlyn scowls and sneers, âvery well then. How quickly your head swells.âÂ
âYou will not mind so much when you see the advantage a queenâs mother reaps,â Jazleneâs bold tone returns. You see the same lady youâve ever known. Haughty and stubborn. âI am off to meet my people, to ride through the kingdom. I will introduce my husband to my people and they will see they were wrong about me. Lady Theodora will choke on her stupid sapphire collar.âÂ
âPrecious, I know they will,â Rezlyn smirks, âthey will all see how wrong they were about our family. The will recall at last your fatherâs title and the history behind it.âÂ
Jazlene raises her chin and her nostrils flair, âis that why, mother? Is that why weâve done this? To reclaim our glory?âÂ
âTo find new glory. In a new kingdom. Darling, donât you see, you will watch over a realm larger than any before. You and the greatest king the world has known.âÂ
You stand as Merinda hides her dry flutter of lashes. She is always much more amused by the flowery conversations between the duchess and her daughter. You can only think of the ale leaking under the door and the kingâs declaration; âI am not very happyâ.Â
When Jazlene rises, you tie a cape around her shoulders, the shimmering silver with the blue and violet flowers sewn into it. She is sparkling in her new role. A queen with even a circlet of silver in her curls, though it was formerly a necklace. Â
She emerges with her spine straight and her eyes set. She has readied all her life to be a wife though she just as easily acts a queen. Her shoulders are high and strong as she descends into the chaos of the castle.Â
You and Merinda follow behind the two ladies. Lord Dustan blusters towards them, the toggle buttons of his riding jacket unaligned with the loops. He looks between his daughter and wife.Â
âThe horse will be ready shortly, are you ready to ride?â He sneers at Jazlene.Â
âFather, I am the queen. You do not tell me--âÂ
âYou are a queen and queenâs cannot be tardy. We must way to the capital to consolidate the kingdom. This is not a pageant,â he hisses.Â
âIs the carriage ready?â Jazlene asks.Â
âCarriage? You will ride abreast. All haste is required.âÂ
âFather,â Jazlene shifts on her feet with discomfort, âIâd be better on a cushion than a saddle--âÂ
âArgue it with the king then. His orders.âÂ
Dustan storms past without further discussion and disappears through the outer doors into the courtyard. Jazlene pouts into a grimace and looks at her mother. Rezlyn gives a wry shrug.Â
âWell, your highness...â Rezlyn taunts.Â
âMotherrrrr,â Jazlene growls before she spins and breezes away in her fatherâs stead.Â
You trail the duchess into the dim hues of dawn. The yard is even more hectic than within. The kingâs soldiers move like ants on a hill as their horses stand in patient rows, ready to be mounted. It is the Debray party that is in disarray.Â
As Jazlene weaves through the crowd, several of the castle hands back away and show their deference for their new queen. The black and grey soldiers of the Hinter carry on in checking their saddle bags and weapons. The king is near the gate, head down as a steely haired soldier speaks to him.Â
The duchessâ daughter, newly married, awoken a queen, approaches her husband without hesitation.Â
âI am told I am not to have a carriage? I cannot sit a horse. It is unseemly--âÂ
King Geralt signals to his man with irritation. The soldier with eyes as grey as his hair quiets and backs away. You can tell by the pin on his mail that he must be important.Â
âYou will,â the king says evenly. âWe must be quick. I cannot have a broken axle. We ride as if to battle. In itself, this is exactly what we face.âÂ
âBut you have won--âÂ
âI won in blood, but there are other victories to be claimed,â the king interjects, âstill your tongue and obey your husband and king. The world does not exist as your cloistered life in this castle.âÂ
âI am the queen and I want a carriage!â Jazlene squeals shrilly. Several heads turn as you keep your chin low. You know it isnât the right response but Jazlene does not take orders easily.Â
âYou have not yet been coronated,â the king snarls, âdo not forget so quickly on whoâs back you rose.âÂ
Jazlene huffs and puts her hands to her hips. She steps closer to the king and he glares down at her. You peek up to find his eyes blazing.Â
âI am your wife, not your servant,â she snaps, âand you will not speak to me as one.âÂ
He blinks and you retract your stare. You look over at Merinda as her face strains with horror. The tension of the confrontation quiets the courtyard.Â
âIf I need to have you strapped to the horse like a bedroll, then so be it,â King Geralt hisses. âI have done my duty to you so you will do yours or you should void our contract. Obey.âÂ
Jazlene stands defiantly close to the king. They stare at one another, the air thrumming between them. Lady Rezlyn reaches to touch her daughterâs sleeve.Â
âYou will look so pretty aback a horse, daughter. Imagine what the people will think when they see you resplendent as you ride into the capital, eh? You shouldnât hide in a carriage, you will want to meet your people.âÂ
The daughter puffs out and steps back at her motherâs tugging. She retreats slowly as the king does not budge, his face twisted with anger. The duchess has tendered a fragile truce.Â
âCome, I havenât ridden in some time,â Rezlyn coaxes the younger woman.Â
âAnd you will not,â King Geralt speaks at last, âmy wife will ride. I see no need of her mother. She is no naive maiden.âÂ
Rezlyn flinches, âyour highness?âÂ
The king raises his hand and gestures with his fingers. Two soldiers come forth in his colours, âI will leave some of my men to watch over your walls. The word will spread how Debray did assist in my victory. I have yet to assuage that animosity so you would be best to stay and hide behind your walls.â He drops his arm, gripping his pommel, âyour husband has not yet given all he promised.âÂ
Rezlyn grips her daughterâs arm and staggers as if sheâs been struck. What the king has said is clear. They are traitors, not only in the eyes of their fellow summer lords, but in his. He has not trust and the duchess will be kept in her castle as little more than a hostage.Â
âYour highness,â Lady Rezlyn rasps, âI shall do as you bid. I will only say farewell to my daughter.âÂ
âMake it fast,â the king sneers.Â
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt of rivia x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#au#medieval au#series#winter's king#the witcher
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