#waving my handkerchief at my fics with tears in my eyes

[absurdthirst]

A Mafia Marriage {Mafia!Oberyn Martell x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: Modern AU, Mafia AU, arranged marriage, contract marriage, harsh feelings, cancer, verbal sparring, impetuousness, Oberyn is volatile, threats, violence, rough sex, harshness, dominant sex, unprotected sex, loss, death, grief, foursomes, wlw, mlm, oral (male and female receiving), group sex

Comments: Having worked for the notorious mafia family, the Martells, your mother is very sick and you are running out of hope. Until you are summoned by Doran Martell. He will pay for the best treatments and the finest doctors in exchange for one thing. Marrying his brother, Oberyn Martell.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Oberyn Martell MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The Martells are the most powerful family in the city of Dorne. The ability to ruin lives or enhance them with the power, control and wealth they have is immense. They control everything. Nothing happens in their city that they don’t know about and most would never dream of trying to cross the mafia family. The last time that happened, Elia Martell had been killed by the Lannisters and it had sparked a rivalry war that still causes tensions to this day. 

Loyalty means everything to them. Your mother has worked for them your entire life and because of that, you were exposed to things most were not. Living in Sunspear, the large looming tower that the Martell family had built as a symbol of their status. Now, that life is in jeopardy, your mother is sick and you have been summoned by Doran Martell to discuss her condition. 

“Come in, sweet one.” Doran ushers you in with a wave of his hand and you walk in. He gestures to the large chair on the opposite side of his desk and you sit down, wringing your hands together. “How is your mother?” He asks and you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from crying. 

“She’s good. She’s - she’s not good.” You choke out, tears stinging in your eyes. “She’s- she’s really sick. Stage four breast cancer and we - we don’t have enough money to get her treatment. She has insurance but it’s not enough. They said they’d make her comfortable but we want to fight it.” You reveal, closing your eyes in pain.

Doran knew that the prognosis isn’t good, he’s spoken with her doctors and they believe that the best course of treatment was to keep her comfortable. She has less than six months to live. He taps his desk as he watches you, leaning forward to pull his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offers it to you. “Then you must fight it.” He decides, knowing that it will be to his advantage to offer this to you. “Your mother has been a loyal member of our household for many years. We will cover the costs of her treatment and care. Hiring the best doctors and nurses.” He pauses. “If you will do me one favor.” Your eyes open, full of hope, ready to do anything and he delivers his demand. “You must marry Oberyn.”

You stare at him in shock for several moments before you laugh, your head shaking as you think about Oberyn Martell being married. The man is infamous for his liaisons with men and women across Dorne. He doesn’t want to settle down and you certainly don’t want to marry a man who can’t keep it in his pants for more than a day. “I don’t want - no. I don’t - why me? He is with Ellaria.”

“Ellaria has no interest in taming some of Oberyn’s….wilder proclivities.” Doran hums. “My brother is quick to fight, easily goaded and offended. You…you are sweet. Gentle.” He presses his finger tips together with his elbows on his desk. “You can temper that nature, I know you can.” You look doubtful, but he knows his brother and despite his insistence that he would never settle down, he would with you. “Marry my brother and your mother will have everything she needs and more. Hopefully to live a long and healthy life. If unsuccessful, you will have the security of being a Martell. Having our family to lean on.” 

You should say no. You should storm out and tell Doran you’d never marry his brother even if your life depended on it. But it’s not your life that depends on it. It’s your mother’s. You swallow harshly and nod, “fine. I’ll marry him. Does he - does he know?” You ask, curious if the man knows about this arrangement. Doran smiles, “he’s fully on board.”

****

“What the fuck are you thinking? Marrying me to that - to that mouse.” Oberyn growls at his brother when he storms into his office. Doran sighs and taps his fingers on his desk, “Oberyn…you need to calm down.”

“Absolutely not. I told you I was never marrying.” Oberyn reminds his brother, temper flashing in his dark eyes, making his swarthy complexion even deeper. The grey that is starting to thread through his hair doesn’t distract from his attractive, yet harsh, features and Oberyn still fights and fucks like a man half his age. Doran sighs. “As head of this family, I have the right to demand you marry, anyone I choose, remember?” He shrugs slightly. “I choose her and you will do it.”

“You want me to continue doing your dirty work? My dear brother, never getting his hands bloody. I do all the hard work. Killing who you order since you cannot. Yet you sit behind that desk and order me to marry a woman I don't want. She’s a mouse. She’s - she’s boring.” Oberyn growls and Doran shakes his head, “she will calm you. She will be good for you. If you do not marry her…I will disinherit you. No properties. No cars. No money. You’ll be out in the cold. You’re volatile. We cannot afford another war with the Lannisters, yet every day you take us closer to it.”

Oberyn hisses angrily at his brother, knowing that he could call his bluff, but the risk to his daughters would be too great. The Sand Snakes do not deserve to have their lives upended. “Marriage will not change me, brother.” He snorts, waving his hand dismissively. “Arrange the affair, the poor girl will be bored out of her mind as I continue to do exactly what I wish.” He turns around and strides from the room confidently as he gets the last word.

Doran shakes his head, knowing his brother is a hard nut to crack but he will try. He wants his brother to settle down before he takes over when Doran steps down. After the car accident, Doran ended up in a wheelchair and he knows he will not be able to lead the family when his body fails him.

****

“Don’t worry, mom.” Holding her hand, you rub the back of it gently, wondering if it’s just your imagination that her skin feels brittle. “Doran has agreed to pay for all the treatments.” You smile, hiding the anguish that you are feeling. This is for your mother, no price is too high. “You are going to have the finest doctors and nurses in Dorne treating you and you will be cured in no time.” Her weak smile is worth it. Reaching out with your other hand, you pull the covers up her body, knowing that she is cold and turning up the heat by another notch. She is cold all the time and luckily you don’t live in the north, Winterfel would be miserable for her. You squeeze her hand gently. “See? I told you that we shouldn’t give up.” 

Oberyn seethes as he watches Ellaria dance with a few other women on stage. His lover doesn’t know the news that he’s getting married yet and he plans to keep it that way. The ice in his glass of whiskey clinks as he grips it in his hand and he hates that he’s being forced into marriage. He vowed to never marry after his sister was killed because she married into another mafia family. The Lannisters killed her. He just can’t prove it. He sighs and Ellaria comes over, climbing into his lap to press her lips to his, “come on lover. Watch up. You rented this private booth for your enjoyment.” She reminds him as the rest of the club goers squeeze in below. 

**** 

You feel overwhelmed. Watching the wedding planner as he pulls out the linen options and cake options and you don’t even care. You’re being bought to marry a Martell and you don’t want to pretend like this wedding is of your own volition. “Where is the groom?” The planner asks and you bite your lip, “he’s-” Oberyn cuts you off with “right here” as he strides into the room with a cigar in hand, his orange shirt half unbuttoned and you hate how attractive he looks.

Awakening before noon is a rarity for Oberyn and despite the late night, he is finding himself to be enjoying the shocked look on your face when he strolls into the room. “Apologies for being late, you know how I hate to drag myself away from my….activities.” He quirks a brow and smirks as he eyes the wedding planner. “You should know that all colors will be Martell colors.” He tuts. “No need to pick anything else. After all, she is marrying into the most powerful family around.” 

You bite your lip to smother your scoff as his cockiness. You shake your head and look down at the plans, the colors you picked are obsolete now that orange and gold have been chosen by him. “What else would you like to have, darling?” You ask sarcastically. You know Oberyn. Your mother works for them so you’ve grown up with the family, watching Doran take over, have the accident, then Oberyn whoring around, killing anyone who dares to look at him the wrong way.

“Wine, lots of wine.” He snorts, tapping his chin as he pretends to contemplate the question even though it’s obvious you would rather he leave. “Perhaps some contortionists and burlesque dancers for the reception?” He knows that will offend your prudish sensibilities and maybe even make you mad enough to call off the wedding. If you refuse to go through with it, Doran cannot complain. 

You clench your jaw, you know what he's trying to get to you to do and you won’t let him. You need to make sure your mom gets treatment. You won’t allow him to ruin this. When your mom is better, you’ll divorce him and he can have his life back. “Whatever you want.” You hum, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of you arguing. “Perhaps we can have a vanilla wedding cake?” You suggest, wanting something simple and you know that’s your mom’s favorite.

Vanilla. Boring. Just like you seem to be. Oberyn rolls his eyes but he’s nodding. “The cake can be whatever you want it to be.” He promises, making it seem like he is being generous. “I also want cupcakes of every flavor.” He smirks at the wedding planner and sends him a small wink. “I like variety.”

You can’t refrain from rolling your eyes this time. “Yeah. Cupcakes. Every flavor. Of course, vanilla isn’t enough for him.” You tell the planner who glances between the two of you. You are struggling to even get through this but you will. Oberyn looks at the table layout and quickly moves people around, a glint in his eye and he frowns after a moment, “Ellaria needs a table.” He declares and you inhale sharply, unable to believe he has the audacity to invite his lover to your wedding. “She’s - I didn’t think- it’s a family affair.” You remind him and he scoffs, “she is family.” You sigh, reminded that he cares little for loyalty and a monogamous relationship.  You remember a few years ago the Martells were throwing a party for Doran and your mother was invited and you joined her. You overheard Oberyn proudly telling his friends that he could fuck who he wanted. Marriage was a ball and chain and he refused to be tamed. He wanted freedom to fuck who he wants. He also went on to say he hated women who didn’t know what they wanted from sex. Women who were timid or shy. That made you roll your eyes and stride off to search for a glass of champagne. Since you were a little girl, all you ever wanted was a loving relationship. A man who loved you and was loyal to you, dedicated and caring. Now, you’re marrying a man who couldn’t give a shit about you.

Oberyn is surprised that you aren’t pitching a fit, sure that you would be insulted. “Fantastic.” He murmurs, leaning close to unsettle you and he’s struck by how sensual your perfume is. He is not a man who restrains himself often, so he presses his lips to your pulse in a gesture that anyone else would find loving and intimate. “You and I will get along well, my sweet little Dove.” He coos in your ear. 

You resist the urge to shiver and recoil as he backs away and you want to slap him for kissing you. You don’t know what Doran coerced him with to marry you but it’s obvious he has no plans to change his lifestyle and you don’t care. You just want to give your mother a chance, if there is any hope of her beating the cancer. You won’t let Oberyn ruin this. You need to do this for your mom’s sake. “Whatever you want, baby.” You coo, reaching up to caress his cheek and the wedding planner smiles, “you make such a beautiful couple.” You lower your hand and thank him. “Let’s discuss the outfits. I have you booked to go wedding dress shopping on Saturday. Oberyn, you will have your tailor work on your suit?”

He hums, knowing that Doran will want him to have a new suit made for the event. “Do you want something traditional or bold and daring?” He asks, arching a brow at you and smirking. 

“Traditional.” You tell him, not wanting to look like you’re in Vogue even though you literally will be in Vogue with the man beside you. He looks disappointed with your answer but you don’t care. This isn’t a runway event, it’s a wedding. “Black tie it is.” Oberyn nods, although he will sneak in some orange and gold. The wedding planner makes some notes and claps, “very well. We have everything we need to get this wedding going. T-minus twenty days. I’ve never planned a wedding so fast.” He confesses, almost wondering why he needs to plan it so fast. His eyes drop down to your stomach but there’s no indication that you are pregnant. He had been told about your mother so that could be why it’s being planned so fast.

“I want my daughters there.” Oberyn tells you. “In the wedding or not, I will dance with each one at the reception.” He has eight daughters, eight bastards that he publicly and proudly claims as his own. He is a doting father and his own wedding will be no exception. “I don’t suppose you have decided on a ring yet, have you Dove?”

You know that Oberyn has lived many lives before you met him. You sigh and shake your head, “I don’t expect a ring. You know what this is.” You murmur, not wanting to take more than what you need for your mother. You need to help her and you don’t want the Martell money to wear on your finger as a reminder of your situation.

The wedding planner is not standing next to you, but Oberyn is offended. “Whatever this might be, you will have a ring.” He will not have someone talk about his lack of care for his bride, even if he does not wish to get married. “I will have the jeweler come tonight with a selection of rings for you to choose from.” He informs you. “Pick what you will like from them.”

You scoff, "how romantic." You roll your eyes and watch the planner gather his things while Oberyn is next to you. You hate how he seems to loom over you, his aura overwhelming you. He's always been that way. You look down at your bare left hand and try to envision his ring on your finger but it feels foreign and wrong.

“It is better than picking some monstrosity you hate.” He snorts. “I don’t think that you would like my taste in jewelry, you don’t seem to like my taste in anything, Dove.” Now that he’s seen your reaction to this, he feels that you are no more happy about the situation than he is. “Or are you hoping that your innocence will intrigue me?”

You snort, "I don't want to intrigue you. You are indulgent, quick to kill, and ostentatious. I am not. I have never killed. I have never been - been promiscuous. We are worlds apart and this marriage is for us to get what we want." You declare, knowing he would never marry you if it weren't for his brother.

“What I want?” He snorts, oddly insulted by your description of him even though you aren’t wrong. “Believe me, there is nothing in this arrangement that I want.”

His words sting even though you aren't remotely interested in a relationship with him but you don't want to show him how his words hurt. You stiffen and look at him, ignoring the way his dark eyes seem to burn into you. "The only thing I want is for my mother to live. I'll do whatever it takes to save her. Even marry you." You hiss and stride off, the wedding planning finished and you want to get home and pretend for a while that this isn't happening.

Oberyn watches you go, a frown creasing his brow and he has to admit that he admires that. You don’t want him, that’s obvious. You aren’t a good actress and he wouldn’t have believed you if you tried to seduce him. He pulls out his phone and calls his brother, even if the man is still in the same house he is. “Doran….tell me about the mother.” He demands.

**** 

You stare at yourself in the mirror, almost confused by the person looking back at you, and you don't recognize the woman standing there in the white dress. A bride. You look like a bride and you glance back at the iPad where your mom is on there watching you try on dresses. She was confused when you told her you were marrying Oberyn when you had been vocally disapproving of him. "You look beautiful, baby." She coos and you smile, tears stinging in your eyes as you wish you were marrying someone you loved instead of Oberyn.

“This is a beautiful choice.” The sales woman had been very attentive when she learned whose bride you are. The announcement had been made in the papers and on all the major Dornish networks two days ago. She knows that no expense will be spared on the Martell wedding and that means a hefty commission for her. “Would you like to try the shoes you picked out?”

You nod, chest feeling tight at how real this is starting to feel. You inhale shakily, watching the associate go to fetch the shoes and you lift your dress to try on the shoes that cost more than you’d spend in shoes in a lifetime. You turn to face the iPad again and your mom grins, clapping her hands and you hate how frail she looks. “Beautiful. Beautiful.” She grins and you offer her a weak smile.

“Oh I am so happy that I will get to be there for this.” She tells you, having feared the worst when her diagnosis was terminal. “The new doctors have been wonderful, they assure me that their treatment course has a better prognosis than before.” She beams tiredly through the camera. “Perhaps there will be grandchildren soon to help bolster my strength.”

You nod, swallowing down the hope that your mom could get better. She could beat this. She doesn’t know that this is fake. You told her that you fell hard and fast for Oberyn and he wanted to marry you before anything happened to your mom. She bought the story, the drugs clouding her judgment and you are grateful you can give her this happiness. You sigh and brush down the dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You never imagined you’d be marrying for money but here you are. If your mom lives, it’s worth every second of misery being married to a man who can’t keep it in his pants.

“This arrived to the store for you.” The assistant brings over a box that is plain and sturdy. Obviously old. You frown slightly and take the small card that is with it and flip it open. “Dove, this veil has been worn by Martell women for over two hundred years. Wear it well. Oberyn.” There is no sentiment behind the words, but the thoughtfulness of it surprises you. Opening the box to find a stunning antique place veil that has small yellow and orange suns delicately embroidered around the edges of the throat length overlay and the twenty foot train. It’s an heirloom piece and absolutely stunning.

The sales associate comes over and gasps at the veil. “The last woman to wear this was Elia.” She reminds you of the last Martell woman who was killed by the Mountain on the order of the Lannisters. A man who still walks the earth today by some miracle because Oberyn has been very vocal about killing him. She carefully removes the veil from the box and secures it on your head. It’s so delicate but combined with the dress, you look like a princess. “Oh my God.” You choke as your mother says the same words but as a tearful coo. “You look beautiful. Like a Martell.” She cries happily and you stare at yourself in the mirror. A Martell. This is real. You’re marrying a man you do not love. You carefully touch the veil and take a moment until you turn to the sales associate and tell her you’re going to take the dress. It’s ridiculously expensive but Oberyn already has told the shop to let you buy whatever you want. You say goodbye to your mom and shut the iPad after you change into your clothes and you head back to your apartment to find it being packed up. “What the hell is this?” You ask the moving man who shrugs, “moving you into your new place with your hubby to be, sweet cheeks.” He declares and you clench your jaw. You knew you’d be moving in with Oberyn to keep up appearances but not so soon.

The man watching over the packing pushes off the counter where he was leaning against it as he eats a bowl of berries from your refrigerator and saunters over towards you. “Don’t worry, they won’t break anything.” He promises. He is Oberyn’s right hand man, handsome and just as quick to violence as the man Dorne had labeled the ‘Red Viper’ and ‘the Prince of Dorne’ due to his second in command status. This made Dario third in command in his mind. “Although maybe you should invest in some lingerie to entice Oberyn.” He suggests with a smirk. “The drawer is a little….bland.”

You narrow your eyes, hating that Dario has looked through your underwear drawer. Hating that your life is being moved because of Oberyn. "I don't think I'll be enticing Oberyn at all. This is - you know what this is." You hiss at the cocky man who smirks as he stands in your kitchen. "I do. Which means you better make it worth his while since he's marrying you to save your mother." He hums, reaching out to cup your cheek and you jerk your head from his touch. "Shame as well. You're a pretty one. Stuck up but nothing a bit of anal wouldn't change." He chuckles and you wrinkle your nose, "you're disgusting." You scoff and turn to make sure the movers aren't damaging anything.

**** 

“Lover, where do you expect her to stay?” Ellaria’s body stretches out across the settee, head back as she tilts her head up to look into her lover’s eyes. Her smile is almost secretive, as if she knows something that Oberyn does not. She might, she’s been with the man for over a decade, birthed four of his children and has no issue sharing him with whomever catches his fancy. Oberyn huffs and shakes his head. “There are plenty of rooms. She can take up an entire floor for all I care, but she will live in Sunspear.” Doran had made it clear that you would be his wife and he would treat you accordingly. It was why he had sent the veil over to the dress shop. It was important you wear it. To show all of Dorne that you are his, a Martell.

You glance around the place you’ve been moved to. It’s beautiful and you look out across Dorne to the sea, blue and glistening under the hot sun. You sigh and inhale deeply now that the movers have left and unpacked. You didn’t need to lift a finger and you wonder if that is how the Martell’s live. Rich and famous for all the wrong reasons, you wonder what your life will become. Your mom is in the hospital, a private wing paid for by Doran and a reminder of your agreement. You don’t hear the door behind you open until Oberyn’s “hello” reaches your ears and you sigh, turning to look at your husband-to-be. He looks disheveled and it annoys you to no end that he looks hot yet you can tell he’s been with his lover. “I didn’t expect you to return.” You confess, “figured you’d be with your lover until the weddings

Oberyn smirks slightly at the comment. “You are not as innocent as you look.” He hums, walking farther into the room and picking up a crystal figurine that you have sitting on a table. “It is comfortable, no? You have everything you need?”

You nod, “it’s beautiful here.” You look out the window again, “I see why you are so…you. Being gifted this beautiful life.” You murmur, turning back to look at him as he sets the crystal down. “I know you are with Ellaria. I don’t - should we say I know about it or should we say it’s over?” You ask, wanting to know to react if you’re asked about it.

He arches a brow at the surprisingly mature take. He had expected you to make a snide comment about his lover of many years. “You can say what you wish. Even tell people she is your lover.” He chuckles, not even able to imagine that, although Ellaria thinks you are very appealing in a virginal way. “She would not mind.”

You roll your eyes, knowing this is a woman he has children with. “Come now, people won’t believe I am her lover. I need - I’ll tell people it’s an open relationship. Easiest way since you're unlikely to become monogamous.” You huff and walk over to the fridge to take a bottle of water out. “I don’t know what you get from this arrangement apart from annoying me at every turn.”

Oberyn snorts. “Perhaps I like to annoy you.” He muses, wondering how you are to temper his impulses when you can’t stand him. “You are free to have whatever lovers you wish.” Your mouth drops open in shock and he holds up a finger to silence you. “Two rules. No bastards and you don’t fuck my men.”

You think about Dario, how he eyed you, and you bite your lip, wondering if you can rile your fiancé up. “I can promise no bastards.” Which makes you chuckle internally considering he has eight daughters out of wedlock. “For your men…I don’t know if I can promise that.” You hum vaguely, liking the way he clenches his jaw.

Fury heats his veins and he is moving before you can react, grabbing your arms and hauling you closer, his nose nearly touching yours. “I do not hurt women, but I will kill every one of my men you touch.” He hisses. “I will not have them thinking to fight me for your cunt.”

You gulp, his fingers digging into your arms to give you a glimpse of the dangerous man he is. You nod, your nose bumping his as you say “I understand.” You don’t want anyone to die because of you. You have had boyfriends, lovers, but you refuse to have your image tarnished by taking a lover while married to Oberyn. You hope this can be annulled once enough time has passed and your mother is better.

****

“You look perfect.” The irony of having Ellaria help him get ready for a wedding to another woman is not lost on him. She smirks as she adjusts his bow tie slightly. “I will have to pick out quite a few lovers tonight to distract myself from missing out on your wedding night.” The pout she sends him is playful and he snorts. “I will be spending tonight in our bed with you and whoever catches our interests.” He captures her hands and holds them, his eyes serious and dark. “This changes nothing between us.”

You brush down your dress, your mom in a beautiful dress, sitting in her wheelchair with the IV connected to her arm. She’s so frail but her smile is beaming and your heart warms at her happiness. Even if she doesn’t quite understand this farce, she’s happy and you can give this day to her. If she doesn’t survive, you’ll know you did everything for her. “He’s going to be blown away.” She coos and you offer her a weak smile in the mirror. You have no bridesmaids, not wanting anyone else involved in this sham and your wedding planner helps you put the intricate veil on your head.

Oberyn stands next to the priest, sure that the Gods will be laughing as he professes to take this woman as his wife. The church is packed, everyone wanting to see the infamous Oberyn Martell marry. Some said it would never be done. He glances at his brother who is sitting in his chair on the front row, making sure that this marriage happens. He cuts his eyes towards the door and sighs.

The music begins to play and for a second, you want to run away and not look back. Then you remember your mother’s face and your chest tightens. You need to do this for her. You inhale deeply and nod, letting the ushers open the doors, and you grip your bouquet as you start your trip down the aisle to a man that doesn’t love you and you don’t love him.

Glancing quickly at Ellaria, Oberyn turns to watch as you start the slow, measured walk down the aisle that is covered in silk flower petals. Some might have believed that he had never married because Ellaria was deemed unsuitable to be his wife, but that was not the truth. The truth was, the part of Oberyn’s heart that loved - beyond his children - died the day his sister was savagely killed. Brutalized and cut down, the vision of her final moments and the loss of his favorite sibling had hardened his heart. Even now, he loves Ellaria in his own way, he cares for her and makes sure that she is provided for, but he does not hold her in an all consuming passion. He does not crave her like he craves air. Watching as your white clad body glides forward, he wonders if you will understand that.

You can feel his eyes on you and you force yourself to look up from the aisle to meet his dark gaze. His stare is intense and you wonder what’s going through his mind. He’s a mystery. He’s been with Ellaria for years on and off and never married her. He’s had eight daughters and never been married. Either he can’t commit or he doesn’t want to commit. You finally stand before him, handing your bouquet to the wedding planner and you take Oberyn’s outstretched hand to stand in front of the priest.

Despite your obvious dislike of the situation, you look beautiful and graceful. Your hand is soft and warm in his and your eyes meet his with a determination that pulls reluctant admiration out of you. This is for your mother, he knows that. The frail woman is here and that is a miracle because the doctors are trying every radical treatment they can to save her. He has known her most of his life and he has to respect this kind of loyalty to her. The willingness to do anything to save her. He pulls you close and starts to flip the veil over your head so he can see you clearly.

Your eyes meet his unhindered as he lifts the veil from your face and you inhale shakily as he reaches for your hands. You barely pay attention to the priest, letting him make his speech but Oberyn has to squeeze your hand to get your attention when the priest asks if you take Oberyn to be your husband. You hesitate for a moment, biting your lip and look over at your mother who is smiling with tears in her eyes. You can’t say no. She needs to have one last chance. “I do.” You declare and Oberyn’s grip on your hands loosens while he says “I do.” After your exchange rings and the priest finishes his speech, you’re in a daze until the priest declares you husband and wife. “You may now kiss your bride.”

His lips curve into a smirk. Not shy about gathering you closer to kiss you without any fear of you pushing him away or slapping him. Not that it would bother him, he doesn’t mind when a lover is rough. It’s exciting. He makes it a scene, dipping you down and kissing you thoroughly, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you and turning what should be a chaste kiss into something much more carnal.

Your cheeks burn when he finally sets you on your feet, lips glistening and the crowd cheers as he takes your hand and guides you down the aisle. You hate how your lips tingle and you would never admit it but he’s a good kisser. You stumble slightly but he keeps you upright and you make your way down the aisle until you’re in the hallway, your chest heaving as you let go of his hand. “Well that will certainly be in all the magazines.” You declare and Oberyn chuckles, “had to sell it, Dove. Can’t have people thinking I don’t satisfy my bride.” You scoff and make your way down the hall to the photographers that are waiting. “We both know it’s not going to be my bed you’re in tonight.”

“Disappointed?” He leans close, invading your space and to the photographers, it looks as if Oberyn is whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “You just need to invite me to your bed and I will make sure you have a wedding night you would never forget.” Despite his objections to marrying you, he has no issue fucking you. It would be interesting to aid in striping away your virginal facade and turning you into his own little whore.

You smile and turn to look at him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I’ll never let you fuck me. You can take my hand, my life as your own, but you’ll never have my body.” You lean in to peck his lips and turn back to the cameras, almost blinded by the lights. Oberyn has had more lovers than you’ve had hot dinners and you refuse to give him that kind of power over you. You know he’d never let you forget it if you let him fuck you. Then he’d leave and go back to Ellaria’s bed. No, you’d never give him that hold over you.

Instead of being angry by your vow, Oberyn bursts out laughing, amused by the venom in your words. His cock twitches, imagining making you eat those words when you fall into his bed eventually. “Then you should not worry about who screams my name tonight.” He murmurs quietly. “Although I’m sure you will hear it.”

The irony of this situation is not lost on you. Doran picked you to calm his brother down but you seem to be riled up by his nature, leaving behind your normally gentle and agreeable personality in favor of defending yourself. His hand cups the back of your neck as per the shouted instructions from the photographer and you smile at him but say through gritted teeth, “rather them than me.”

“Temper, temper.” He muses, winking at you before he drags you closer for a kiss so the photographer can capture the moment. He finds your unrestrained hatred of him refreshing. He doesn’t like when people kiss his ass unless he is in the mood. “Then I will make sure I have a group of them.”

You let him kiss you and you wonder how you’re going to endure the reception when you’re only on the photos. After you take photos with your family, you and Oberyn enter the reception hall to applause and you let him pull you close for the first dance. You don’t say anything, leaning your head on his shoulder to make sure you look close without needing to speak to him and you close your eyes, not wanting to see the crowd watching you.

The moment would actually be considered sweet if there was some semblance of affection between the two of you. When the song comes to a close, the DJ that is setting the mood announces a dance between mother and daughter.

You are surprised but you go over to your mom who is in her wheelchair and she attempts to get up “no mom, don’t stress yourself. We can dance in the wheelchair.” Your mother shakes her head, “absolutely not. I will dance at my baby’s wedding, without being in a wheelchair.” You don’t argue with her, you just help her stand and guide her over to the dancefloor when the song begins and you gently sway with your frail Mother tears sting in your eyes when you try not show how sad you are, but she seems to be getting worse. You had hoped that the treatments at Martells would help her. You don’t see it in her eyes, but she knows that she is dying and she wants to enjoy every moment she has left.

Oberyn watches until it’s obvious that you are supporting most of your mother’s weight and he quickly steps in behind her. Shifting the weight off of you, he grins to the crowd watching. “I was jealous of two beautiful ladies dancing without me.” He jokes, making everyone laugh and making it seem like his impulsive nature is to blame instead of your mother’s frailty.

You can’t deny that Oberyn wrapping his arms around your mom’s waist makes you smile in thanks and the song plays as Oberyn sways you both. When the song ends, he playfully lifts your mom into his arms, carrying her over to her chair. “You’re supposed to carry my daughter.” She giggles and Oberyn winks after he sits her down, “that’s for later.” He presses a soft kiss to the back of your mom’s hand.

Your mother giggles again quietly, charmed by Oberyn’s flirtatious nature even though she’s aware of the man’s proclivities. Perhaps he has changed for you, the thought makes her happy to know that you will have a strong man at your side when she is gone. He winks at her before he stands straight and the DJ announces the first of eight dances with his daughters.

You settle down at your table to watch Oberyn dance with his daughters, each one getting their own dance and you watch him as he speaks softly to them, making them laugh and smile, and sends them to their table with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. It’s clear he adores them. You feel eyes watching you and you turn your head, your eyes meeting Ellaria’s as she offers you a soft smile. You’re surprised she doesn’t hate you. Isn’t glaring at you for marrying her lover.

When you don’t cut your eyes at her, Ellaria picks up her glass of champagne and stands up. Slinking across the hall in a dress that is a little too revealing to be considered proper, but she wears it well. “Dove.” She smiles, sliding into the seat where Oberyn will be sitting later to eat. “You look more beautiful than I imagined you would. You wear the Martell veil well.”

You know people are watching so you offer her a soft smile, “thank you. I was shocked when Oberyn gave it to me. I am sure he always imagined you’d be the one wearing this for his wedding day. I wondered before this charade why you never married each other.” You ponder out loud. “You know about our arrangement and why we are doing this. I have no malice towards you. You are his lover, the mother of his children. I do not know why Doran wanted me to marry his brother.”

She watches you for a moment before she laughs, a beautiful trilling sound of amusement, her head tipped back to expose her long neck. “Oh darling, I see why he wanted you to marry Oberyn.” She hums when she calms down. “And I would have never married him.” She admits causally, shrugging one elegant shoulder. “We do not have that kind of relationship.” She knows how Oberyn feels and she would have never tied herself to him with those things in mind. He was too free of a spirit and so was she, if the truth was told.

You frown, certain that Oberyn loves Ellaria more than anything, but maybe you don’t know the entire story. “I don’t expect him to stop sleeping with you. We aren’t - this isn’t a marriage of love. This is convenient.” You clarify and pick up your glass of champagne, taking a sip while Oberyn spins his daughter around.

“I don’t know if that is alllll true.” She murmurs, a small smile on her face. “And it is wise that you don’t expect him to stop being who he is.” She lifts a brow in irony. “We never want to change someone when we love them.”

You nod, “yeah. I don’t care what he does. I only want my mother to survive. Whatever Oberyn does is his business. I just don’t want him to make me look a fool.” You confess, setting your glass down and everyone claps as Oberyn finishes his last dance.

“Then don’t be surprised by anything that he does.” Ellaria leans forward seriously. “Oberyn might not love you, he doesn’t love me either. Not like you might think, but he is loyal….in his own way.” She cautions you. “You are now his and he will expect the same kind of loyalty from you that he gives you.”

Your frown deepens as she says he doesn’t love her. You’ve heard the rumors of how intense their relationship is. You assumed they were deeply in love. “I won’t make a fool of him.” You assure her, “I just want my mother to survive and after that? Well, that would be a miracle problem to have.”

The other woman glances over at the frail woman with a look of concern and presses her lips together. “I hope that you get your wish.” She murmurs, reaching out and taking your hand. “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

You appreciate her not spitting in your face since you are stealing her lover as your husband. You squeeze her hand and she glides back to her table as Oberyn passes her. He kisses her cheek and makes his way over to your table, sitting down beside you. "Ellaria likes you." He declares and you snort, "You can tell from just one kiss?"

“My lover is not shy about things she likes.” He chuckles quietly. “Now, I am famished, and I think that we should eat.” He offers, nodding to the wedding planner to have the servers start bringing out the plates of food. The canapés had been good, but he wanted something more. “Eat up.” He winks at you. “You will need your strength.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and reach for your glass of champagne so you can down it. It’s going to be a long night but you are prepared to endure it when your mom looks like she’s won the lottery. She looks so happy so you force a smile and sit beside Oberyn like you’ve won your own lottery.

The party is still in full swing when you and Oberyn make your exit, ducking the handfuls of birdseed and confetti that all the party goers throw. Holding tight to your hand, he rushes you out, getting to the elevators before he drops your hand and pulls out his keycard to open up the access to the floors where your and his apartments are located. “The party will go on for hours.” He predicts as the car doors slide open and you step onto the elevator. “Pity we will miss it. It was a good one. The dancers the planner found were….limber.”

You lean against the wall of the elevator car, watching the floors pass by and you inhale deeply, looking at Oberyn. “You are welcome to rejoin if you wish but I suppose we need to make people think we consummated our marriage.” You hum and you know you won’t stop him from finding someone to warm his bed.

His brow arches and he smirks, leaning closer to you and pressing you closer to the wall. “Are you going to invite me between those pretty thighs, Dove?” He coos, reaching up to caress your neck, his thumb rubbing your pulse. Your scoff grates on his ears, irritating him when he has been flirty and kind to you. He has done nothing today to humiliate you or demoralize you and yet you are pushing him away like he is the gum on the bottom of your show. Him, Oberyn Martell. His piercing hot look turns cold and he hisses. “It does not matter.” He snorts. “I have people lined up to suck my cock if you have no desire to.” He boasts. “Any one I want. Why would I want you?” It’s petty and cruel, but he can be that way when he’s insulted. “You have the demeanor of a cold fish anyway. I like my partners to enjoy themselves.”

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do but you stiffen and when the elevator dings to announce your arrival, you stride out of the car into the apartment without hesitation. “Then go find your pleasure anywhere but my bed. I didn’t marry you to fuck you, Oberyn. I married you to save my mother. You need to remember that.” You hiss and slam the door behind you to your bedroom, slumping down on the bed. You listen to the elevator ding again and tears sting in your eyes until they roll down your cheeks. You married a man who doesn’t love you and you hate that you had to do this to save your mother. Your sobs come when you realize you can’t get out of your dress without help so you lay down, constricted by the lace, and cry for your marriage and your mother.

“Lover…” Ellaria slumps onto the bed, worn out and exhausted. “I need rest.” Oberyn chuckles, his wedding attire strewn over the floor as his hand slides over her sweat slick hip and he slaps the ass off the man who is laying beside her. “Then you watch.” He tells her, lunging forward to slide his tongue into the man’s mouth as he tries to forget about how your eyes had flickered with hurt before you turned that tongue on him.

**** 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Oberyn married and you’ve barely seen him. You are with your mother every day as she struggles to get through treatment and you know it’s a fruitless effort. She’s withering away and even selling your soul to the Martell’s won’t save her. You arrive back at the apartment after your mom fell asleep and you’re surprised to see Dario standing in your kitchen. “What - what are you doing here?” You ask, confused and looking around for Oberyn.

Dario smirks as he pops another piece of an orange that he had stolen from your fruit bowl into his mouth. “Checking on you.” He quips and flings the rind of the fruit onto the counter as he walks towards you. “Haven’t seen you around and wanted to make sure you aren’t……lonely.” He knows that Oberyn hasn’t been spending his nights in your bed. He has men and women parading out of the floor that he shares with Ellaria. He slides his hot gaze up and down your body suggestively and licks his lips. “Perhaps you prefer someone who knows what he wants.”

Your back stiffens and you realize he is alone with you. You glance around the apartment and he reaches out to caress your cheek. You freeze, unsure of what to do when you’re alone and you know what he’s capable of. “I’m not - Oberyn is - I’m not allowed to touch any of Oberyn’s men.”

“He won’t know.” He muses. “Too busy playing with his whore and everyone else.” He snorts. “Did you reject him? He’s fucking everything that walks like you did. Proving to himself that your cunt doesn’t matter, but I think it does.” He steps closer and smirks. “I want to have something he doesn’t. For once.”

You are frozen in place, your mind skipping and you know you should push him away but he leans in to press his lips to your cheek, a chuckle breathed against your skin, and your back hits the kitchen counter as he crowds you, his other hand on your waist.

Dario takes your non-refusal as acceptance. His body pressing against yours as his mouth moves from your cheek to your lips. Mindless to anything but you letting him kiss you. Not hearing the door to the apartment open or the quick steps towards you, anger lacing each boot strike. He doesn’t even know that anyone else is in the apartment, too focused on his victory over Oberyn, until a hand grabs his shoulder and he is dragged off you like a rag doll. A fist plowing into his face before his eyes even open to see who is there. “Bastard!” Oberyn shouts, kicking the man while he is down before he backs up. “You were warned not to touch her.” He roars.

You gasp, shuffling to get out of the way as Oberyn straddles Dario and his fist comes down on his face. "Oberyn. I - he didn't - he hasn't fucked me." You yell at him but he continues to hit his second in command.

“You want what is mine?” Oberyn rages, hitting him with one fist, then the other with alternating strikes. Dario had thrown his hands up to defend himself but the force of the attack renders him helpless as his boss beats him. He gurgles out an apology, barely heard and not acknowledged. “I let you have everything - anything - you want. But not her. I told you that you are getting too comfortable.” He had known Dario was jealous, thinking himself the better man. It was why he had told him that he couldn’t have you. No one could. If the man fucked his wife, he would start thinking he could replace Oberyn, and he would never let that happen.

You scream at Oberyn to stop. Dario might have been handsy but he doesn’t deserve to die. You watch as Oberyn hits until Dario goes unconscious and your husband’s chest heaves as he looks up at you, sweat on his brow and his knuckles torn up. “Holy shit.” You gasp, kneeling down, “I can’t - why did you - why?” You ask breathlessly.

Panting, Oberyn reaches for you as he leaps to his feet. He is still agile and deadly, making you gasp with the speed at which he moves. He growls as he shakes you slightly. “I told you not to touch my men.” He hisses, right before his lips slam against yours in a bruising kiss.

When you look back on the moment you kiss him back and you realize it was adrenaline. Your hands tangle in his hair and you moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him. He slides his tongue into your mouth and you moan, sliding yours against his and you feel his cock hardening against your hip.

Dario doesn’t groan, still unconscious on the floor as Oberyn backs you against the wall and presses you into it. Completely taking control of the kiss as his hands grab your ass and he pulls you up into his arms and presses against your core as he carries you through the apartment to your bedroom.

You don’t reject him, hyped up on adrenaline and the feelings that have been haunting you since the night you got married. His dark eyes find you everywhere - in the coffee you drink, in the chocolate you treated yourself to, and you know you need to get him out of your system. Your back hits the bedsheets and he follows, kneeling between your legs and his lips press against your jaw. “Oberyn.” You gasp, tilting your head as you close your eyes so he can destroy you like you always knew he would.

His name on your lips is all the permission he needs. Hands pulling at the clothes you are wearing. Stripping them as efficiently and and quickly as possible. Greedy for every bare inch of flesh you reveal to him and his lips travel over your neck. His teeth leaving a trail of marks behind as he claims you as his own.

You want to see all of him. To know if the rumors of his beauty are exaggerated or if they are true. You unbutton his half buttoned shirt, pushing it from his shoulders and he shrugs it off, tossing it aside, while your hands caress his chest down to his stomach.

“You do not even look at my men.” Oberyn hisses, flipping open his belt and snapping it out of the loops of his pants, the gun holster dropping to the floor and sliding away. Reminding you of how easily he could have killed Dario. He grabs your hands, thinking to tie them to the bed, but he wants you to touch him. To be just as hungry for his body as he has been for yours. He’s never been denied, and instead of it making him indifferent, it has made him crave you. Tossing the belt aside, he holds your hands above your head, making your tits stick up in their lacy bra and he ducks his head to bite down on a nipple.

You cry out, arching your back and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding up against him. “Fuck. I- I- shit. Baby.” You cry out, “I need you inside me. Now.” You beg, cunt aching with the need to have him stretch you out.

His pants disappeared, underwear was never a thing, so it isn’t a barrier between the two of you. His fingers twist under your panties and he rips them apart at the seams. Taking you at your word that you need him.

You gasp when he rips your panties off and you spread your legs for him without hesitation. You desperately want him inside of you. The way he defended what is his even if you aren’t his in heart, you are on paper, and the way he took out Dario has you ashamedly wet. “Fuck me, Oberyn.” You whine when he grips his cock and shifts between your thighs.

He loves the way you are begging him. His smirk is self satisfied and predatory as he shuffles close and swipes his cock through your soaked folds. “Gods, Dove.” He growls. “You will remember tonight.” He vows, lining his cock up and snapping his hips forward as he covers your mouth with his own.

You cry out into his mouth, the sound smothered by his tongue, and your hands find his back, scratching your nails down the golden skin as his cock stretches you out. There’s a sting but you love it.

Oberyn would never insult you to say that you are the best cunt he’s ever been inside. You wouldn’t believe him. However you are wet and tight, fitting him like a glove. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, drawing his hips to plunge back into you just as fast, eagerly setting a frantic pace.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he starts to fuck you. There’s no mistaking this for love making. It’s fucking, through and through. His hips hit your ass and you feel like you can barely breathe as he grunts into your mouth. It’s been so long since you had sex, focused on your mother’s health, and it's bliss to think about nothing except how you feel.

One hand braces on the bed below you, the other squeezes your tit. Pinching your nipple harshly to make you gasp and clench around his cock before he slides his hand lower. Finding your clit with precision accuracy and starting to rub tight, perfect circles on the bundle of nerves. Very practiced in pleasuring men and women alike.

“Holy shit. Oh - oh Gods, Oberyn. Baby. Oh shit.” You pant as he rocks into you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and you whimper as you scratch your nails down his back, marking him in the only way you can. “You’re gonna - shit. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, the feeling suddenly overwhelming you.

He doesn’t slow his pace down. His hips slapping against your ass. “Good girl, Dove.” He groans, kissing along your jaw. “Cum on my cock. Soak me.” He orders, feeling your body clench down around him.

The wail you let out is almost inhuman and you clamp down on his cock, a cry of his name barely distinguishable as you soak his cock with your cum. Your nails digging into his back and his cock working you through your orgasm.

He’s determined to make you never forget being in bed with him, fucking him. Wanting you to crave it every time your cunt throbs with need and your thoughts stray to having someone plunge into you. His men are off limits, unable to touch you like he does. You can have him, Ellaria and anyone else, but he wants you to want him.

You moan as he works you through your orgasm and you are sure he’s punching your guts with his cock as he pushes deep on each harsh movement of his hips. “Oberyn.” You whine when he pulls out of you and he flips you onto your hands and knees. You struggle to balance as he kneels behind you and pushes into you with a speed you never expected.

The weeks that you have been married and he’s been denied your body, they are being made up for right now. Every time he’s wanted to fuck you and not been able to is being taken out on your body. He groans when you clamp down around him again.

Your fingers tangle in the sheets and you moan his name as he rocks into you. He feels even bigger in this angle and you arch your back, your tits swaying as he fucks you with his entire body. “Yes baby. Shit. That’s - keep going. Don’t you dare stop.”

He chuckles at your demands, finding your bossiness in bed charming. Digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises under your skin, he hisses out your name as he continues to pound into you.

You whine, head dropping down as he wrecks you, and you know why the Red Viper is so well known as a voracious lover. “Fuck. Fuck. You’re - I’m gonna - oh shit. Keep going. Right there.” You cry, eyes squeezed shut as he hits something incredible and it takes two more thrusts to unravel you.

Your orgasm is beautiful, your cry loud enough that anyone near your apartments would hear his name being screamed. Hissing in pleasure while the cream from your cunt soaks his cock, making obscene sounds as he fucks you through it. “That’s right.” He groans. “Fuck, you are happy now, aren’t you? Getting fucked like you’ve dreamed of. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“Fu- fuck you. I don’t - shit. I want - want to feel you.” You choke out, chest heaving as he fucks the air from your lungs. “You - you wanted my pussy. You’re the one who - who wants to fuck anything going and I- I tried to hold out.” You confess in gasps.

His fingers wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your chest. His hand cupping your tit as he pumps up into you from a new angle. “Yes, I wanted this pussy.” He growls in your ear. “Craved it, fucked anything I could to take my mind off of it, off you.” He pants out the confession. “Nothing worked until I found you kissing my lieutenant.”

You lean back against him, turning your head so you can look at him. Sweat on his brow and his jaw clenched as he thrusts up into you. “It was yours on paper. Your wife. Your pussy. I don’t make it easy. You had to show me that I wasn’t going to be thrown out of your bed after you’ve gotten what you want.”

His eyes are dark and hot, boring into yours as he thrusts into you, rocking you towards another orgasm. His other hand slides down to your clit where he starts rubbing it again. “Mine.” He agrees. “My wife, my lover, you can be in my bed whenever you want. Have your cunt licked while I have my cock sucked. Bounce on my lover’s cock while I bury mine inside him. Cum on Ellaria’s fingers while I fuck her. Nothing will be denied to you.” He groans. “Except my men.”

Dario laying on the kitchen floor is proof of that. You know now that he will kill anyone who even looks your way and you should hate that but instead it has you clenching around his cock. He hisses and you moan, “I want to try it. I want to experience your lovers and you.” You moan, covering his hand on your breast with his.

Oberyn groans in your ear, loving that you will compromise with him. Not try to change him. “You won’t regret it, Dove.” He vows, his hips still slamming into your ass he fucks you. “Now, cum for me again.” He orders. “Cum for me and I’ll fill up your cunt with my seed and be satisfied.”

His words send you over the edge and you swear you black out as you clamp down on his cock and soak him. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, shaking in his arms as you fall apart pressed against his chest.

This time Oberyn lets himself follow you. Thrusting deep two more times, he buries his cock in your womb and starts to flood it with his seed. Groaning your name in your ear as he pumps you full. “Shiiiiit.”

You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he works you through your orgasm and you whimper when his cock twitches inside you. “Shit.” You echo, closing your eyes as you relax against him. “Don’t push me away again. I don’t want to hate you.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.” Oberyn admits. “My brother is not happy that you and I have been living separate lives.” He admits, rolling you both to your side and lying down on your bed. “I had come to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

You sigh, shifting to curl into him. “I want to get to know you. We are in this situation for a reason and I want my mother to get better and to make this marriage work for us until it doesn’t. We have to at least try. There’s a reason why Doran chose me.”

“He said you would tame me.” He doesn’t mind this version of you, the one that isn’t spewing insults. His cock is still glistening with your juices and he knows you are dripping his cum onto the bed. Maybe he just needed to fuck you. “I don’t know why he would think that.” He snorts. “I nearly killed Dario. Still might.”

You tut, caressing his chest, “no. You don’t need to kill him. He was just trying his luck. Don’t let him get into your head. We need to stand solid side by side.” You declare and sigh, resting your head on his chest, “I just want my mom to have a chance.”

Oberyn sighs. “She has the best doctors in Dorne.” He reminds you softly. “Doran has asked for a few more to come from Winterfell and King’s Landing to make sure there is nothing else to be done.” Doran always kept his word and that meant your mother would receive the best possible care.

You hum, tears stinging in your eyes, and you swallow harshly. “I don’t want to lose her.” You choke, “she’s been all I have known. My father died when I was a baby.” You confess, “I’ll be alone if she dies.”

“You won’t be alone.” He reminds you. “You have a husband. My family became your family when we married.”

You sigh, pressing a kiss to his glistening golden skin, “thank you.” You murmur, knowing he means every word. He’s your husband and he will be there for you.

He lays there for another minute before he sighs. “I need to drag Dario out of your apartment.” He huffs, reminded of the fact the man is still unconscious on your kitchen floor. “Have the cleaners come in and clean up the blood.”

You snort and shake your head, “he needs a doctor.” You tell him but he ignores you in favor of sliding out of bed and you watch his back muscles move as he heads into the bathroom. He comes back out with a wet rag to clean you up and you sigh, stretching out on the sheets.

Oberyn can be a selfish lover with some. The people who float in and out of his bed clean themselves up, but for Ellaria, for you, he will take care of your needs. You bite your lip as he carefully runs the rag over your folds and he snorts in amusement. “I just watched your asshole pulse while I fucked you.” He reminds you. “There isn’t a part of your body that does not please me.”

You chuckle and stretch out with a groan, “that’s good to know because I have never felt this good before.” You confess, “holy shit, Oberyn. I can’t - wow.” You’re a little speechless as you snuggle into your pillow.

He hums, happy that you are pleased with how he fucked you. It’s important to him that no one leaves his bed unsatisfied, but especially the woman who is his wife. Now not just in name.

**** 

Tears sting in your eyes as you watch your mom struggle to breathe. She’s gotten worse and it’s only taken days for her to be bedridden and unable to breathe properly. The treatments aren’t working and you try your best to offer her a smile but your heart is breaking. She’s dying and there’s nothing more you can do.

The door opens and Oberyn comes into the room, pausing when he sees you in the chair and clutching your mother’s hand. The prognosis isn’t good and he had just come from talking with the doctor before coming to visit with the older woman. “Dove.” He murmurs softly before he walks over to your mother and kisses her papery thin cheek. Her skin has taken on a waxy appearance and feel, the underlying smell of death clinging to her. It won’t be long now. He says your mother’s name and gives her his most charming smile. “You are as beautiful as the day you came to work for us.” He praises, kneeling down on the other side of the bed. “You will be pain free in no time.”

Your mother offers him a weak smile, her hand shaking as she lifts it to cup his cheek. “Look after her. She deserves love and to be happy.” She tells Oberyn and you bite your lip to stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, my desert rose.” Oberyn covers her hand with his own, pressing it against his cheek. “Your daughter will be well taken care of.” He promises. “She will have joy and love. She will know happiness and that you watch her from your perch with the Gods proudly.”

You feel the sob work its way up your throat and swallow harshly, walking over to Oberyn to rub his back in silent thanks for him reassuring your mother in her final time. You lean down beside him, looking at your mom.” “We will be happy.” You promise, “Oberyn has been incredible.” You assure her, “he will look after me.” Your mom nods, her eyes getting heavy and you bite your lip to stop your sob.

Oberyn holds her hand with his, feeling her body relax and there is one surprisingly strong inhale that rattles through her frail body. The exhale doesn’t come, making Oberyn sigh as he knows that your mother has gone to be with the gods and you will be inconsolable.

You stare at her for several moments, your hand reaching out and that’s when you realize she’s gone. You sob and lean in to kiss her cheek, silently saying goodbye to her and you close your eyes, trying to not break down.

Pushing to his feet, Oberyn places your mother’s hand on her chest and steps back to let you grieve how you need to. “Her pain is gone, Dove.” He murmurs softly. He won’t leave you, knowing what you are going through. After you have your moment with her, he will arrange for your mother’s body to be treated with the utmost care.

You nod, lip quivering, and tears stream down your cheeks as you watch him treat your mom with so much care. “I can’t - I need you to - to help me plan everything.” You request and he nods, “of course I will.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your hair. You know he will, he promised your mom to look after you.

“She was a good woman.” He tells you quietly. “I would come sit with her, every afternoon, after lunch.” He had never told you that. Or that he had asked her not to tell you. After the arrangement had been made, and she had started the treatments, he had made time no matter what else was going on. Even when you weren’t speaking with him.

Your eyes widen and you stare at him in shock. “You came - every day?” You ask and he nods. Your heart pounds in your chest and he reaches out to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks. You reach up to grip his wrist and he freezes, thinking you’re rejecting his touch. “Thank you.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist after you let go of his wrist.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He promises. “At first, I came to see if I could talk her into getting you to change your mind, but when I saw her doctor, I knew I could never do that.” He explains, not wanting you to think that he was totally honorable. “But then I kept coming back for her, for myself. She had always been there in Sunspear but I had never gotten to know her.” It’s a regret he will carry, but he is happy for the time he has spent with her. “I see why you went to such lengths to save her.”

You are shocked to hear that he was visiting your mother. You never knew that and you swallow harshly, trying to stop the sob that’s working its way up your throat again. You bury your face in his chest and squeeze him, knowing that you want to make this marriage work. He’s your husband, your only family.

**** 

The funeral is a beautiful, somber affair. Oberyn had helped you through it all, guiding you through choosing a service and flowers, music and a dress for her to wear. He had insisted that she be buried in the Martell crypt, telling you that as his mother-in-law, she deserved to be there. Since it was housed in the basement of the building you lived in, you could visit anytime you wished. He had stood by your side, strong and comforting, opening up to you about his grief from losing his sister and how it had changed him.

After the funeral, you have grown closer to Oberyn and you are getting ready for dinner with him when it hits you. You love him. You have no idea when it happened because you didn’t want him, didn’t like him, but between the drama between you and the way he’s supported you during your mother’s death, you have fallen for the Red Viper. You stare at yourself in shock and Oberyn walks into your now shared bedroom with the towel around his waist, chest glistening from his shower. “I love you.” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself.

Oberyn stops, turning towards you with his brow dipping into a furrowed line. “You shouldn’t, Dove.” He tells you quietly. “I’m not a good man, a man who is content to live a quiet and simple life.” You know he still sleeps with others. Not just Ellaria. He comes back to you most nights, especially since your mother’s death, but it’s no secret that he isn’t giving up his ways. You look so crestfallen that he sighs, his hands dropping to his sides. “You know I care about you?” He asks. “Right? That you will be safe and find pleasure and comfort with me? That I will make sure you are happy?”

His answer shouldn’t surprise you. He’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t do commitment and love. You’d accepted that he shares his bed with others and you haven’t been in a mindset to think about trying that with him. “I do.” You promise, looking back at yourself in the mirror. “I just wanted you to know how I feel. Even if you don’t feel the same.” You assure him and he nods, stripping off his towel and you can’t help but admire his body in your reflection. “Oberyn?” You ask and he looks at you, “yes, Dove?” You bite your lip, “I want to share our bed with Ellaria and another. I want to experience more.” You announce, slightly nervous.

He’s surprised and cautious about your wants. “Are you sure?” He doesn’t care about his nudity as he strides towards you, picking up the bottle of wine that has been left by the maid and drinks straight from the neck. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He reaches out and caresses your cheek. “You don’t have to change for me.”

You nod, “I’m not changing because of you. I want to try it. If I don’t like it, I’ll say so. I want to experience something different. Can you help me do that?” You ask and he nods, a smirk on his face as he brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “It would be my pleasure.” You smirk, turning your head to kiss his palm, “our pleasure.” Oberyn chuckles and leans down to kiss you, the taste of the wine on his tongue has you moaning and he pulls back to say “fuck dinner. I want you.” You moan into the kiss and let him drag you to the bed. He tells you everything he wants to watch you do, growled in your ear while he fucks you from behind. Your dinner reservation ignored.

After you are sprawled on the bed, dripping his cum, Oberyn caresses your hip and chuckles. “Do I call Ellaria and her lover into our bed now, or would you prefer tomorrow?” He slaps a cheek of your ass playfully. “Did I wear you out?”

You chuckle, “you have enough energy for them to come over now, husband? Or are you too old to continue fucking through the night?” You tease, eyebrows raised as you look up at him from where you are laying on the bed.

He rolls his eyes slightly and sighs. “Too old?” He snorts. “You weren’t calling me too old when you were screaming my name in pleasure while you soaked my cock.”

You chuckle at his offense and you shift to curl into his chest, “call them now. I’ll clean up and we can host Ellaria and her lover. I want to experience them.” You caress Oberyn’s sternum as you look at him.

He chuckles and reaches for his phone that is lying on the bedside table. Opening it up, he selects a number from his contacts and hits call. His fingers caress your back as the phone rings and he smiles when the sultry voice of his lover is heard. “Darling.” He coos. “Are you entertaining a woman tonight, or do you have that lover who has such an impressive cock of his own?” He asks, as easily as he would ask about a dinner date.

You listen to him on the phone, lounging on the bed as he speaks to Ellaria. “The lover with the impressive cock.” Ellaria coos her answer and you smirk, “come over.” You say since he has it on speaker and Ellaria is surprised when she speaks your name. “I want to experience you and your lover with my husband.” You declare, wanting to let her know your intentions.

Ellaria hums, wondering if Oberyn has convinced you to try this, although she knows he is not one to force matters. “We will be down shortly.” The floor where his lover and his children live is above yours, he had never wanted to be too far from the Sand Snakes. Chuckling, he ends the call and smirks at you. “Will you entertain with my cum dripping from your cunt or will you clean up?” He asks. “I think I might wear your juices on my cock.”

You smirk, shifting to kneel on the bed, and you reach for him to wrap your arms around his neck. “Do you think Ellaria will wish to lick your cum from my pussy?” You hum, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “or will she want me to be clean?”

Oberyn hums, turning his head to press his lips to yours. “She knows the taste of my cum well.” He chuckles. “I know she would love to see how we taste together.”

You hum against his lips, caressing his chest, and you moan against his lips when his tongue slides into your mouth. Neither of you hear the door open but you hear Ellaria when she says “ah, what a gorgeous sight, lover.”

He smiles against your lips, his flaccid cock twitching as he thinks about what is to come. You have never had multiple partners, so it will be a treat to see if you like that.

You smirk, turning your head to look at Ellaria and gesture for her to join. “Come here.” You coo and wave her over with her lover. Ellaria kneels on the bed and you reach for her, pressing your lips to hers, your hand curling around her neck.

Oberyn groans at the beautiful sight and he feels Omar’s hand on his shoulder. Turning and pressing his lips to the other man’s easily. He has had him before and he knows you will be pleased with his cock if you take it tonight.

You moan when you pull your lips from Ellaria so you can watch Oberyn kiss the other man. His hand cupping his cheek and your stomach twists in arousal at the sight. You moan softly and watch him kiss another man. “It’s a gorgeous sight, isn’t it?” Ellaria coos in your ear and she caresses your back until she’s squeezing your ass. You nod, turning your head to press your lips back to hers, your tongue sliding against hers while you reach up to cup her breast.

Pleasure is all Oberyn ever strives for in a sexual encounter. He wants everyone to enjoy themselves. Most of all him, but right now, this is also more about you than him. To see if you are willing to slot yourself into this part of his world, to open up to the comfort that can be found in others arms and not let jealousy come between you. He breaks away from Omar’s kiss. “Ellaria.” He rasps out. “She wants you to lick my cum from her pretty little cunt.” He informs his lover.

Ellaria moans, kissing along your jaw, “you want me to lick your pussy, beautiful girl?” She coos and you nod, falling under her spell as her dark eyes burn into yours. She guides you to lay down on the bed and spreads your legs, admiring the creamy mess between your thighs, and your chest heaves in anticipation as she shifts to law down between your legs.

Omar’s hand wraps around Oberyn’s cock and he groans, making you look over at him. He flashes you a smirk and nods towards Ellaria. “She will eat your cunt while her lover sucks my cock.”

You gasp when Ellaria’s tongue slides through your folds, her moan vibrating through you and you watch Omar shift onto his knees, his hand squeezing Oberyn’s cock as he leans closer to take him into his mouth, making your husband groan. The sight has your stomach clenching and your pussy pulse against Ellaria’s tongue. “Shit.” You choke, reaching down to tangle your fingers in her hair.

Oberyn hums in pleasure and his hand cups the back of Omar’s head as he eagerly swallows down his cock. “You are a pretty sight.” He praises breathless, both to you and Ellaria and the man who is pleasuring him. “How does it feel, Dove? Knowing that a woman's tongue can know your body so well?”

You whine, tilting your head back against the mattress as Ellaria strokes your thighs, pushing them further apart. “You taste so good.” She coos and slides her tongue through your folds until she sucks your clit. You cry out and moan, back arching as you watch Oberyn take his pleasure, rocking his hips into Omar’s mouth.

Oberyn’s head tilts back, groaning loudly as he experiences the talented mouth of the other man. Only opening his eyes again so he can watch you rock your hips down onto Ellaria’s face. “You look so good like that.” He pants. “Spread out and indulgent. Both of you are so eager for more.”

Ellaria hums against your folds, moaning when you tug on her hair. She sucks on your clit a little harder and you whine, bucking your hips up into her face. She flings her arm over your stomach and Oberyn groans as he watches you. Your eyes meet his and you whimper, “so good.”

He caresses Omar’s cheek and feels where his cock makes the man’s throat bulge. “Make her cum, El.” He pants out, knowing how talented that tongue is. “Make her cum so she can taste your gorgeous cunt.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, thighs pressing against her head as you cum against her tongue. She moans and laps at your folds, wanting every drop, and you shake while you moan her name, your eyes closing while Oberyn watches you.

Tapping the other man’s chin, Oberyn pulls his hips back. His cock sliding out of the hot mouth that it had been buried in and he leans over to drag Ellaria up to taste you from her lips with a groan.

You watch Oberyn kiss Ellaria and you reach for Omar, pulling him close to kiss him. His hands grab your waist and he pulls you close while Ellaria and Oberyn kiss. It’s so erotic, your cunt drips despite you just orgasming from Ellaria’s tongue.

The kiss between lovers is long, easily something that could last all day. But Oberyn and Ellaria both are eager to witness the passion you share with the other man. Turning and moaning as the sight as your hand wraps around the thick cock attached to Omar’s magnificent form. “Lover, perhaps Omar should fuck her while she licks my cunt?” Ellaria moans. “I doubt you will object to filling his ass with your cock.”

Oberyn smirks, “you won’t catch me arguing about that, lover.” He coos and he reaches for you, “you want to have his cock, my wife?” He asks and you nod, “yes.” You’re breathless and you want to sample Ellaria. He chuckles and reaches out to squeeze your ass, “your wish is our command.” He winks and Ellaria shifts to lay down. You kneel on your hands and lean in to slide your tongue along Ellaria’s thigh.

Ellaria moans your name, her eyes sliding closed and there is a very pleased smirk on her face. As if this is the outcome she had been anticipating. “Gorgeous.” Oberyn coos as Omar pumps his cock and shuffles behind you. “Fill my wife with your cock and I’ll prep you to take mine.” He grunts. “She will experience the force of both of our thrusts.”

When Omar starts to enter you, you whimper against Ellaria’s skin. He’s thicker than Oberyn but not as long. You pant as he pushes into you and you let yourself stretch around him while caressing Ellaria’s thighs. When he’s fully inside you, you timidly lean down towards Ellaria’s pussy. “I, uh, haven’t done this before.” You confess and Ellaria smirks, “just do to me what you love to have done to yourself.” She instructs and you nod, leaning in to slide your tongue through her folds.

Oberyn shuffles off the bed, watching you take the other man’s cock from a different angle while he gets a bottle of lube. The sight of your tongue timidly sliding through Ellaria’s cunt is intoxicating. He grabs the bottle from the drawer and leans down, pushing his head beside yours and letting his tongue flutter alongside yours.

His tongue tangling with yours has you moaning and Ellaria pants, her fingers tangling in his hair and her hand on your neck. “Fuck.” She curses and you moan, lapping at her clit with Oberyn until he pulls away, kissing you on the cheek.

“You look so pretty like this, Dove.” Oberyn coos as he slides back behind Omar and opens the tube to squeeze some lube on his fingers. “Ellaria likes your tongue.”

Omar groans when Oberyn presses his slicked up digits against his ass and your husband chuckles at his pleasured groan when he’s not even got started yet. You lap at Ellaria’s folds, sliding down to push your tongue into her and Omar slowly rocks into you, taking one of Oberyn’s fingers inside.

Despite having fucked Omar before, Oberyn takes his time to work him open. Knowing that he needs to be stretched so he doesn’t tear. His ass is tight and he groans when the muscles clench down around his finger. Pulling back and adding more lube before working a second finger inside him. “That’s it, lover. Open up for me and you will have my cock buried in your ass soon. You’ll like that, impaled on my cock while fucking my wife. You’ll be in heaven.”

Omar moans, dropping his head as he tries to stay still. You whine against Ellaria’s folds, wanting more but he doesn’t move until Oberyn has stretched him out. You slide your tongue up to suck on Ellaria’s clit and she watches Oberyn move to lube up his cock, spreading more lube on Omar’s ass as he kneels behind him.

“Fuck.” Oberyn groans, pressing the head of his cock against the grasping ring of muscles and starts to breach the man. Sliding his hips forward until the head is inside and he hisses, sliding his hand down Omar’s back. “Start moving.” He orders the other man. “Fuck yourself back onto my cock as you fuck my Dove.”

Just his words are enough for Omar to twitch inside you but he nods, gripping your hips as he starts to move. You whine in delight, the vibrations making Ellaria moan in pleasure as you lap at her clit. It doesn’t take long for you all to have a rhythm established and you are moaning at the way Omar pushes into you.

Once Oberyn feels the way Omar is pushing back against his cock, he knows he can ramp up the pace. The man is begging for him to hammer into his pretty little ass and wreck him from the way he is squeezing his cock like a vice. Gritting his teeth, Oberyn digs his fingers into Omar’s hips and snaps his own forward harshly, making the other man cry out in pleasure as he strikes against his prostate.

Omar is pushed into you by Oberyn and in turn, you moan into Ellaria’s cunt, making her whine. The motion back and forth continues, building up as the four of you seek pleasure and pleasure from one another. It’s intoxicating and you can understand why Oberyn loves it so much.

Leaning over Omar’s shoulder to watch you and Ellaria. Loving how eagerly you are devouring his lover’s cunt. As you hear her moans, it spurs you on, wanting to hear more from her. Ellaria paws at her breasts and tugs on your hair as she rocks her hips down, greedy for your tongue. “That’s it, Dove. Devour her. Make her cum on your tongue and then that thick cock will fill your cunt. After you cream all over him.”

Oberyn’s words make you clench around Omar who hisses and bucks into you a little harder. You slide your tongue into Ellaria and you barely need to move your head, pushed into your pussy by the two men behind you.

Oberyn chuckles, continuing his harsh pace as he spears into the other man. “That’s right, fuck. All of us are going to cum. Every one of us. Ellaria is loving that tongue in her cunt, aren’t you?” He growls.

Ellaria moans and nods, tangling her fingers in your hair to push you even further into her cunt. You lap at her clit and she meets Oberyn’s eyes. “Your wife is not as innocent as she seems. She’s going to make me cum.” She confesses breathlessly and Omar feels you clench around his cock.

Oberyn’s filthy chuckle is low, heated. “Good girl, Dove.” He praises. “Make her cum. Show her how filthy you can be. Cum on Omar’s cock. Fuck, you fit in so well. We will all fuck you until you are covered in cum. Until you are full.” He rambles as he plows into Omar, so incredibly turned on by how erotic his once prudish seeming wife is being right now. “Fuuuuuck.”

Oberyn’s words have your cunt fluttering around Omar’s cock but you want Ellaria to cum first. You suck on her clit and snake your hand along her thigh until you are pushing two digits into her weeping pussy. She cries out and you moan victoriously when she clamps down on your fingers and her back arches.

Ellaria cumming is always a beautiful sight. The gorgeous woman is enthralling when she shakes in pleasure and it’s made even more intoxicating by the knowledge that you made her cum. His wife devours her cunt like you are born to do it and makes his lover cry out in bliss, making him think that this could be a regular occurrence.

You work her through it, making you moan into her folds until she’s pushing your head away. You whine but Omar’s hands grab your tits, squeezing them, and you are sent closer to your orgasm. His hips hit your ass and you whimper when he gets the angle just right. “That’s it baby. Cum for us.” Ellaria coos, watching your face.

Oberyn can tell from the way your breaths are catching in your chest that you are about to cum. You must be squeezing Omar’s cock because the other man’s ring of muscles is pulsing around his cock. “She’s close.” He bites out.

Your hands grip Ellaria’s as she coos to you, “cum for us, lover.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut, and you gasp when you feel Oberyn’s fingers rubbing your clit. You are pushed over the edge and moan your husband’s name as you fall apart on another man’s cock.

Oberyn twitching inside you, the pressure against Omar’s prostate makes the other man cry out. His hips lurch forward and he starts to throb. Painting your walls with ropes of sticky cum while his puckered hole spasms around your husband’s cock.

You pant, collapsing forward and Omar follows you, Oberyn shifting his knees to follow and you moan when his hand squeezes your hip while he fucks Omar harder, making the man inside you twitch despite his softening cock. “Fuck. Cum for me, baby.” You demand and Ellaria smirks, “cum for your wife, lover.”

You are pressed under the weight of the other man and Oberyn doesn’t hold back. Pounding into Omar to make the man wail in pleasure as his orgasm is pushed past the point of overwhelming. Hisses out your name as he drives into the tight hole again and again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He roars, pushing deep and flooding the man’s ass with his cum. Panting as he works himself through the intense pleasure.

You sigh, Ellaria stroking your hair as you relax under the weight of the men. It’s blissful and something you never imagined before. Omar pulls out of you as he’s soft and you shuffle up to lay beside Ellaria, turning your head to capture her lips while you spread your legs to show your husband the other man’s cum inside of you.

“Fuck.” Even though he hasn’t caught his breath, after pulling out of Omar, Oberyn ducks his head down and swipes his tongue through your cum covered folds to taste you and the other man’s combined juices.

“Fuck.” You pant, throwing your head back, and Ellaria chuckles, turning her head to pull Oberyn up so she can kiss him, wanting to sample the combination herself.

Oberyn lands next to Ellaria, tangling his tongue with hers easily and chuckling when she moans. Knowing that the other woman has become intoxicated by the taste as he has. Pulling away from his lips is a struggle but he reaches for you as well to kiss you softly, his other arm reaching for Omar to pull him closer as well. “Fuck.” He murmurs against your lips. “How do you like my way?” He asks.

You chuckle, reaching out to caress his cheek, “I love it.” You confess, “I want to do this again.” You admit and he smirks, knowing he wants to do this with you too but also keep you to himself sometimes. You know he’s going to be difficult to tame but you don’t want him to be anyone but himself, even if you were bought and paid to marry him for your mother’s sake.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Wildflower: 02

The Secret Garden

Category: Short Series

John Wick x Reader

Warning: Nothing Yet

Notes: John is relatively younger in this fic-- late thirties to early forties.

The gif is not mine. Credits to the original creator (Sorry, I don't remember where I downloaded it from)

Unedited

Wildflower 01

“I thought you weren't one for socialising.” Winston commented, observing John’s eyes before they met his gaze again.

“I am not.” John stated simply. 

Winston hummed dismissively and sipped his drink, keeping his gaze locked with John’s.

“You seem intrigued.”

John looked away and frowned. “It’s not every day that I get to meet someone who has not even heard of the Boogeyman.”

“Fascinated?”

John looked up “Amused.That’s it.”

 With that, he chugged away the bourbon on the glass and bid Winston a goodnight before leaving.

—---

As the bus moved past streets and signs, the world around her remained blurred. She sat on the window seat, gazing at her mother’s ring. The tears she fought finally won– a thick drop lined her cheek, followed by another, but she bit her trembling lips and held tight, wiping away her tears quickly. 

Calm down, calm down, calmdown calmdown calmdowncalmdown…

She would not break down like that. She would not allow anyone to witness her break. She was in the  midst of keeping herself together when a handkerchief came into view. She looked up, only to see a man she has never seen offering her the piece of cloth. 

“Please,” He offered politely.

She blinked but mindlessly accepted it “Thank you.” 

That was all she could come up with while wiping her tears. He sat on the seat in the front turned to face her with a smile “You’re welcome. Rough day?”

She mustered up a faint smile and nod, reflecting on the events a few hours ago.

“I haven’t seen you around here before? Are you new here?”

His question made her look up to him in surprise.

He noticed it and added– “I take this bus regularly, the next stop is mine– I know the regulars. So, just curious.”

“Yes, I just…moved to New York.”

“Tough day at work?”

"Would have been better to have a tough day at work. personal stuff."

He offered an understanding silence for a few moments until the bus came to a halt. “Well, here’s my stop. Guess we will run into each other often. I’m Alex by the way.” He rose and offered his hand.

“It was nice to meet you Alex, I’m (Y/N).” She shook his hand with a faint smile before he waved and got off the bus.

What an unexpected, kind surprise.

—-----

Moving into New York was a completely new experience– but she was settling in. A month after her visit to the mysterious Continental, she had not been contacted by Winston— not directly, at least. A parcel was sent to the apartment she had rented. A parcel containing a card under his name and a note saying ‘In case you need it.'

Winston was a strange man. Even though she wanted to ask him how he got her address, she had no other way but to either visit the Continental again, or ring up the number provided in the card. She could not bring herself to do that.

Every other evening, she would take the same bus home from her workplace and run into Alex. Alex Norton was a Pharmacologist who happened to be exceptionally bad at driving cars or balancing motorcycles. So, public transport was all he was left with. Not that he minded, as he told her– he liked to observe, and liked the steady cycle of public transportation– 

“It's one of the few stable things I have in life.”

He told her once, standing over her seat after he had kindly given up his for an elderly man. She did not poke further in favour of keeping the conversation on a lighter tone (he had an amazing sense of humour), but she was almost certain that he meant something deeper.

Almost.

In the last month, she had realised that there was nothing too ‘obvious’, or ‘too certain’-- there were always gaps and cracks, what ifs and buts. It was not that she did not think of her mother. She did, every night before falling asleep, questions would plague her mind and every morning, she would be filled with a sense of hopelessness and dread thinking of all the possibilities– one worse than the other, and all the ‘what ifs’-- what if her mother never left? What if her mother told her where to find her? What if she got the letter on time, what if—what if.

She was in one of those ‘what if’ phases in her mind, walking with her  eyes downcast, but unfocused as she navigated her office street with muscle memory when her vision shook—

No, she shook, after she had stumbled– perhaps walked right into a man and bumped into him hard enough to leave her nose with a dull ache.

She hissed, rubbing her nose. “I am sorry.” She stepped back, apologising.

“No, it was my fault.” 

She looked up. It was the same man who was there with Winston the other night. His eyes remained on her, as if waiting.

“Oh, hello again Mr…”

“Wick—John Wick. Are you alright?” There was a faint frown that settled between his eyebrows.

“Yes, yes, I am. Just a little distracted.” She smiled awkwardly, the man only nodded.

“You’ll settle in.”

“I hope so.” There was no conviction in her tone. If he noticed, he did not comment, just stood there, looking at her. “Okay so, I need to get to work. Good to see you.”

He simply nodded again.

With a tight-lipped smile, she walked past him, turning into another head among the thousands on the street.

John smoothened his shirt, feeling the bulletproof vest underneath– eyes still on her moving form before he finally looked ahead and walked on. He was working after all.

—---

John Wick was not the one to linger around past business. His work was done, he should be heading home. But he found himself staying. Staring at an unassuming office building, he turned around to buy a pack of doughnuts– just in time (Y/N) walked out of it. He turned slightly, watching from the other side of the road as she navigated the streets. His stoic gaze remained on her.

John was conflicted.

He had nothing to do with that woman. She belonged to the other side– the clean, untainted side he could never even dare taste, for he knew that a cursed demon like him would taint it, wither the garden, bring dark, stormy clouds over the perfectly sunny world. The world which she came from was his childhood fairytale and now a distant, wistful fantasy— perhaps some other dimension, universe? He did not know, he was doomed after all. The world he came from…was a nightmare to her– to people like her. 

So, what was he doing there?

John had no reasonable answer to that. He had seen her walking on the street with her eyes downcast, and stopped, allowing her to bump into him. Even through the bulletproof vest he could sense her warmth– a tenderness that made chills run down his spine. Something he had never experienced before. It felt forbidden, but so… so good. It took him some effort to not reach out to the warmth, instead, his fingers folded into a tight fist in his pocket.

She was the forbidden fruit that walked into the place where angels feared to tread— but so oblivious, so sweet so…

John shook his head and stopped. With one last glance at her form at a distance, he turned around and walked away, dropping the pack of doughnuts on the lap of an old, homeless man on the footpath.

-----

“Isn’t this my favourite commuter?” 

She turned around to face Alex with a smile. It was crowded and neither of them had a seat. But standing with Alex was much better than being cramped up with strangers.

“Hi.” She smiled “You look tired?” She commented,assessing him. His usual pristine coat seemed crinkled and dirtied and despite the cool weather, he had beads of sweat. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes I am, just a project going haywire, don’t worry. How was your day?”

“As usual. You were right, once you get a hang of it, I guess things do become bearable.”

Alex smiled “So, tomorrow’s weekend. Wanna grab a beer?”

Now, that was a tempting offer. She glanced at her watch– she had plenty of time.

“Okay, let's go. Your stop or mine?”

“Neither, the next to next stop is a street filled with good pubs. You’ll love it.”

—-

Alex was not wrong. The pub he took her to had just begun to fill in– so they managed to get their desired spot to sit, the ambience, and the environment was lively.

“It's a lovely place, thank you for bringing me here.”

Alex raised his glass and smiled “You're welcome.”

Getting along with Alex was easy. It was smooth-sailing to have a conversation with him, to jump from one topic to another.

“I do not think that it's necessary that the street should be under constant surveillance. You see, it's the people we need to mend.”

“Until then, constant surveillance might help. My colleagues, I mean most of them are so nonchalant about the reports of crime and all.” (Y/N) added. 

They had somehow landed on the topic of crime and surveillance in the city and she was surprised by the degree of nonchalance in the locals.

“You’re new here.” Alex commented, sipping his beer as his eyes casually moved around the place.

She shrugged, focusing on her drink “There are a few things I might never get used to.”

“True.” His eyes found hers again and he smiled.

It was then she noticed– truly noticed how attractive he was. Tall, dark, well-built with a gentle smile. Alex Norton was a treat for sore eyes. But what truly made him attractive was his approach to people, the way he spoke, the way he listened more. 

She took a swig of her beer, an attempt to divert her eyes. 

****

So, what do you guys think? I have decided to turn it into a short series.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Regarding your last post, i would honestly love to see a jealous jade >:'DD

Jade doesn't seem like the type to get jealous easily and can keep himself usually in control.

So, like, imagine Jade heard/saw Miss Raven giving Rollo a Tour (because her generous uncle asked her to do so). Jade would probably find the situation amusing at first and would probably if he had the chance to tease miss raven about it, before he noticed how much time the two would have to spend together (again, explaining/giving a tour takes time). He would act as if he isn’t jealous. Jade would greatly maintain his facade with a smile. Jade would be seething on the inside while glaring holes at Rollo while quietly following them and just happen to stumble upon them wherever they went (What a coincidence!)

Or he would grab Miss Raven (just like in the fanart) and pull her close to him while he would scoff and mock Rollo under his breath. Imagine Rollo and Jade glaring at each other while Miss Raven is in between them.

Once alone, Jade would probably use his crocodile tears, sigh dramatically, or fake a pitiful expression trying to Guilt trip or make Miss Raven feel bad. Saying stuff like how's she's "cheating" on him. 😔

Rest assured, Jade wouldn’t let this incident pass by just like that. Now that he has a "love rival" (besides Rook), he has to step up his advances towards Miss Raven. After all, he can't just let his precious "Prey" escape from his grasp. How amusing Fu fu fu fu.

What do you think...? 👀

[Referencing this post!; the “giving Rollo a tour” premise comes from this fic!]

Actually, I have to confess that Rollo has basically replaced Rook in my “top 3 TWST characters” list… OTL Superior fictional French man/j 😔 L*ona is in that top 3 ranking too—

EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT JEALOUS JADE 💀 I think about what he said he’d do to anyone that betrays him (in book 4)… ngl hot I’m sure he’s patient and meticulous about plotting his revenge though it’s one of his many charm points💕

I’m going to go a little ham with the rot prompt so @w@ I’ll slap it under a cut—

J word just doing his thing, passing as a Normal Student on campus when suddenly he spots his usual target for bullying teasing walking around with a stranger (he knows all the NRC students’ information by heart :)) as part of his information broker duties in Octavinelle). Ah, this must be the representative from NBC—the headmaster was in a tizzy about finding a tour guide for him, according to Azul upon his return from last week’s dorm leader meeting. The poor sap assigned the task? Miss Raven. He chuckles to himself, wondering how she’s faring with it. Should he mess with her? He should, shouldn’t he?

So Jade goes over to introduce himself, shakes Rollo’s hand and everything. He immediately notices him going for the handkerchief, how Rollo masks his expression with it—Jade already knows there’s more to him than meets the eye. He then goes to greet Raven, who is frozen in shock. “Erm… good to see you as well…” she says, trying to stay polite in front of their guest. (“You’re acquainted?” Rollo asks, to which she hurriedly replies he’s a waiter at Azul’s eatery.) Raven’s quick to guide him away, insisting that they’re on a tight schedule (they’re not), just to put distance between them and Jade. A shame he can’t fluster her more, but he’s patient—he can wait. Jade wishes them well and waves… but he doesn’t fail to notice Rollo passing him a stern look before leaving. The feeling the mututal, Jade doesn’t trust him one bit.

As Rollo is being led away, he addresses his tour guide. “That man’s smile was quite the fantastical ruse”. (“Oh, he’s always like that,” Raven says dismissively. “Don’t mind him.”) He scoffs, then asks, “… What is he to you?” to which Raven bashfully changes the subject. This only earns a suspicious glare from Rollo, but he doesn’t press further.

There’s something very offputting about Rollo, Jade just doesn’t know what it is yet. Jade’s a curious merman, so he sets to following the duo investigating for himself. The mild discomfort, unfortunately, only seems to grow the more and more he witnesses of Rollo and Raven. With Jade, she’s always so snippy and defensive—but with Rollo, she’s more encouraging and cheery. More forgiving. Then he catches her holding Rollo’s hand (albeit just to stare at his shiny ring). Sharing her favorite stories. Admiring the flowers. Having lunch. Feeding the birds and singing to them. Such raw, unguarded moments. She’s wary of showing that side of herself to Jade, yet to so easily share it with Rollo… He feels something dark and ugly twisting inside of him. Jealousy.

Jade makes it a point to be petty by “accidentally” interrupting their moments together. They’re just coincidences, he insists. Happenstance. Certainly not well-coordinated efforts to drive a wedge between them. (Jade literally stands between Rollo and Raven, making sure to include Rollo in the conversation so it’s not obvious what his intentions are—to monopolize her attention.) After the third encounter though, Rollo calls Jade out on his bullshit farce (“You honestly believe I would be convinced these encounters are mere coincidences? I am no fool. You’ve been following us around, haven’t you?”), which leads into Jade’s whole fake crying schtick (“I would never do such a heinous thing!! Shikushiku… Rollo-san does not trust me. Such a cruelty toward your peers.”)…

dbsvsjsc)cayDRSt/2egabwkeju788!j THEN MAYBE LIKE. Jade is especially dramatic (because he wants to piss Rollo off) and like lays his head on Raven’s shoulder or in the crook of her neck and pretend-sobs, asking Raven to please comfort him in his time of distress… and Rollo, being a prude, gets all mad about it????? Calling it indecent behavior and how dare he engage in public cuddling— (meanwhile Raven is short circuiting over here—) “J-J-Jade-senpai, p-please remove yourself from me! Y-You’re… you’re too close!! And too big! And heavy!!” she squeals, trying to shove him off (to no avail).

“Ah, it seems Miss Raven too has chosen to reject me,” Jade laments. “Whatever shall I do…? Perhaps I will die of a broken heart and dissipate into mere sea foam.” (“S-Stop being overdramatic! You’re fine…” Again, she tries to pull away, and shoots Rollo an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about this, I didn’t mean for…”) And there it is again—jealousy, now pulsating and hot. A hand shoots out, seizing Raven by the arm and pulling her close to him again. Jade drops the facade, holding her chin in one hand while he regards Rollo with a cold smile. Rollo meets him with a glare. “At last, you show your true colors.”

“Alas, you’ve yet to reveal your own to me.” Jade’s eyes are half-lidded, bemused. “You wear that mask of civility quite well—I cannot help but fret for the safety and wellbeing of my poor, sweet Miss Raven when she is left alone with you.” (Rollo’s eyes narrow at that. “You’re of no real importance to her,” he scoffs. “What a swelled ego you must have to elevate yourself to a higher pedestal. You ought to humble yourself.”)

Rollo steps forward, as if ready to retrieve his tour guide and to be on his merry way with her. Jade’s eyes flash dangerously—but he returns his attention to his captured prey, sharp teeth and warm breath at her ear as a whisper slinks out. “Please permit me to borrow your lips, Miss Raven.” (“H-Huh…? What are you say… NMMMMMMPHGH?!”) And suddenly 🤡 bro’s aggressively kissing her right in front of Rollo, who’s standing there utterly shocked and appalled. She gasps and tears away to catch her breath, to give Jade a piece of her mind for giving her a fright—but here he comes again 💀 this time lightly peppering her face with kisses, (murmuring sweet affirmations inbetween), just to reaaaaaally drive the message home to Rollo.

Speaking of Rollo, he points a shaky finger at Jade and starts firing off ALL the bad words in his lexicon (harlot, degenerate, pervert, freak…!!). Jade smirks, considering it a victory to both unnerve Rollo as well as making it clear what his relationship with “the tour guide” really is. Unfortunately for Jade, Raven’s annoyed with him, beating her small fists against his chest and pouting. He laughs and ruffles her hair fondly in spite of her protests. There’s her shyness, her cute vulnerable side. All for him, none for Rolloz

I’m not sure where it would go from here honestly 💦 but!! I do think that once Jade leaves the scene and Rollo and Raven have a moment with just the two of them, Rollo calms down from his outrage. “That odious man stole a kiss without obtaining proper consent. He has harmed you.” The disdain in his words is palpable. What follows, however, is more uncertain—Rollo’s not very good at being comforting. “… Are you alright?“ “Y-Yes, I’m fine,” she stammers, though she’s still embarrassed knowing that he had been a witness to Jade’s… possessiveness. Without realizing it, Raven’s fingers drift to her mouth, where the ghost of an eel’s lips linger. Rollo’s eyes follow, and they heat with an intense, unknown emotion.

“… Come here,” he orders. (Raven does.) Rollo wets his handkerchief using water drawn from the courtyard’s well, then sponges her face off with it. You’d think he’d aggressively scrub her down to be thorough and to fully expunge the merman cooties but no—he’s surprisingly gentle. “There. I’m afraid that is the best I can do for now. You should wash your face well tonight to ensure you are clean and free of… him.”

“Earlier, I asked what that man is to you. From your reaction, I had suspected him a beau—but no self-respecting person would act so shamelessly, nor disregard the wishes of their partner. Alas, that is how mages are: wicked and selfish to their very cores.” Rollo sighs as he wrings his handkerchief. “… If you ever find yourself becoming frustrated with his behavior, you need only seek my counsel. While it’s true that you live among mages, it’s clear that they’ve poisoned your mind. Perhaps it is possible to dispel that miasma and to guide you on a more righteous path. Renounce Night Raven College and its teachings. Revert to your natural state, free of magic. Come to me.”

(I’m delusional)

OH BUT AS SoON AS RORO’S OUT OF THE piCTURe (ie back at NBC) YOU BET YOUR ASS J WoRD’S COMINGBACK 😭 Crocodile tears out on full display to guilt trip and to milk Miss Raven for her pity… “Shikushiku… Miss Raven, I believe I’ve said that you’ve gone and broken my heart. What will you do to compensate me for it, hmm? I do believe I am owed at least one date—no, make that two. After all, you did cheat on me with Rollo-san.” (“It wasn’t a date…! I had no choice but to serve as his guide!! Besides, it’s not a crime to spend time with other people.”) They settle back into their usual pattern of bickering, but every so often Jade will catch her scribbling away on stationary (who is it addressed to?) which reinvigorates his suspicions. Well, he supposes that Rollo can’t become too intimate with her since he’s all the way in the City of Flowers. However, Jade will remain cautious now that he’s aware of Rollo’s presence.

NOT J WORD BEING CLINGY POSt-ROLLO VISIT… Not like, being whiny but more like stepping it up with acts of service (like offering to walk her to and from class, brewing her tea, etc) 🤢 Gotta ensnare her heart while Rollo isn’t physically around… Bro’s probably also going to be checking with the mailman ghost to see if Raven’s continuing letter correspondence with Rollo… He’s going to sabotage their communication—

[ashandquiet]

My Most Unswerving Devotion

Chapter 5: Soirees and Reunions

Regency! Soma Jarlskona x F!Reader

Summary: Since coming to Norfolk to stay with your family, the conversations have all revolved around matrimony. Just when your aunt has found a match for you much to your chagrin, quite by accident you fall for the wealthy Duke of Cambridgeshire; Soma Guthrumsdóttir. Can circumstance truly keep you apart?

A/N: Another chapter from Soma's pov, here we get further insight into what the Duke herself was doing between chapters 2 thru 4. We return to reader pov in chapter 6 *blows kiss* Sorry for the long lapse in updates, I have been battling some health issues since last November, and coupled with the need to work I haven't had the time to update. In September after a short hospitalization, I was diagnosed with stage 2 lymphoma and I am now working on finishing this fic in between my cancer treatments.

Read it on Ao3

The masked ball had been Birna’s idea;

They had been sitting in the rear parlor, the last golden light of afternoon being disrupted by pallid clouds. 

After Birna had found Soma amid her panic attack, laid out on the floor like a fool, they had agreed not to speak of it. It was neither the first, nor would it be the last, and that was known enough to the pair of them. Soma briefly explained the encounter in the field to an enraptured Birna who Soma pleaded with to remain silent about the full affair. 

When Lif had returned from the grain market, tea was brought in and the three of them entered their usual companionable silence. Birna laid out on the sofa that was strictly her perch, the ugly red thing brought from their townhouse in London. Lif sat at the pianoforte where he would occasionally tink along the keys. Soma sat where she always sat, at the tea table, in her chair beside the window where she could look out at Cambridgeshire and ponder. This was their way, a simple afternoon routine.

Birna gave a big huff sliding down in her seat into a slumped position, “The country life is beginning to bore me to tears Soma. We should host a party, a ball, like the ones we had in the city. Think of it, we invite all the silly people of this silly county and we have a ball.”

Lif’s hands slipped discordantly on the ivory keys, “A ball? Whatever for. Surely not the public kind.”

Soma had spared a glance at her companions, the two of them would begin bickering soon if she didn’t speak. Yet her thoughts still romped the fields of Norfolk. She was both within and without. Her mind swirled about the woman, all sense left with her handkerchief, she should have offered the woman a ride home, wherever home may have been. 

As Lif began to gripe about expenses, Birna tittered at him like a silly bird and rose to her feet stalking towards Soma’s chair in her great lumbering bear-like gait. 

“Think of it Soma, music, dancing, the halls all lit with candles and filled with flowers, we decorate it like a great temple, we feast and drink like gods once again,” Birna crooned in Soma’s ear leaning over her shoulder like some wily serpent. 

Soma waved her away with a hand, “I’m in no mood Birna.”

“Don’t push the issue Birna, we should wait to spend any excess expenses till after the tenant farms have all had their harvest,” Lif reasoned.

Birna swung around the front of Soma’s chair with a great dramatic sigh rising to her full height and striding to the windows, “I suppose you’re right, but both of you have no appetite for fun.”

”I have no need for fun Birna, yet if you are so restless, we can play a game of cards if you want fun,” Lif reasoned. “We can even take bets if you think you need them.”

Soma watched the tall dark-haired woman as she began to smirk and glanced at Soma out of the corner of her eye. She had taken on an almost evil glean, she was too clever and cunning.

“Think of this Soma, if we invite all the ladies of this county and the next, anyone titled and land holding, our friends and associates, surely your mystery woman is bound to show up,” Birna puzzled, her voice dripping with mirth. 

“What mystery woman,” Lif questioned looking between the two ladies, his brow raised. 

“Soma ran a woman over with her horse, and she has fallen in love,” Birna teased and Soma shushed her standing. 

Soma could not deny that Birna had made a great plan, sometimes she was too clever. The chances of meeting the woman from the field again rose from near uncertainty to some feasible chance, if they were to offer an invitation to most of Cambridgeshire and Norfolk. She began to pace, yet despite all this there was still no way that she could foresee herself being able to find the woman amongst all the people of the shire that a public ball would bring to her doorstep. 

 “How will I know if she is here if I never learned her name,” Soma asked, looking towards her clever friend. “Introductions are almost always required at balls. And the number of people it will bring through my doors, you know how particular people can be.”

Birna knit her brows together sucking on her teeth, and almost as quickly as she had begun pondering she grinned wildly, “We make it a masquerade! Everyone will come dressed in finery masks upon their faces, and the fools will be scared away by the naked maidens in the fountain. All you have to do is look for ladies with injured wrists and, voila! Your mystery woman is found.”

Lif scoffed at her from his perch at the piano, Soma knew he thought Birna a fool. And a fool she may well be, but Birna always seemed to come up with the most harebrained plans. 

“What of invitations, and when? the summer season ends soon and people will be returning to their homes, she could be gone if we hold off too long,” Soma reasoned, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Word of mouth, tomorrow we ride out and invite our friends and their friends, we go to houses, make inquiries, spread the news. And while we do that our dear friend Lif here can hire caterers and servers. Surely a week's time shall be enough notice?” 

“Surely not! Do you not understand how much time and money goes-” Lif was cut short by Soma who cleared her throat. 

“Make it happen, Lif,” Soma commanded, her word final. “It needn't be grand, just nice enough for guests.”

Lif huffed and nodded rising from his seat, “Then I’ll inform the staff, I will see you two at supper.”

Birna slung her arm around Soma’s shoulder then, “We will find your mystery woman my friend don’t you fear.”

ꕥ

Despite her own reservations and Lif’s protestations, the party had come together just like they planned. 

Food filled the tables, and waiters walked about with trays of drinks and ices. Birna had managed to find a quartet to play dances and had situated them in the main ballroom under the frescoes of valkyries that decorated the ceiling. Flowers purchased from a hot house decorated the halls, permeating the air with a dreamlike floral haze. Soma’s home glowed warm and inviting to her guests as they filtered through the doors despite the summer rains. People dressed in finery and frill, masked and shimmering filled her halls with laughter and all other exuberant sounds of life. 

A few of her friends and acquaintances made pains to seek her out and inquire as to why she was hosting such an opulently decorated hastily planned soiree. Soma just smiled and brushed them away with excuses of making rounds about the party encouraging her guests to enjoy themselves. 

After a leisurely pass through each open room to ensure her guests were more than enjoying themselves, Soma turned to a parlor room for a slight reprieve. It was just as she entered the room that a woman swished out the opposite door with haste, dropping a handheld mask in her wake. 

Her curiosity piqued Soma approached the abandoned mask and watched as the woman darted out onto the terrace. She snatched up the shimmering mask examining the beaded wristlet at the end of the handle as she followed the woman’s path. 

It was there in the darkness she found the woman, leaning against a column, the scant light from the sky illuminating her figure. As Soma approached and scanned her form she spoke; but the words failed her.

In the woman’s hands, she held a familiar square of worn fabric, and her wrist was wrapped as if it were injured. Soma paused, emotion washing over her. Was her search at its end? She beheld the woman before her, eyes almost misty, as if they threatened to fail her, all faculties abandoning her, Soma choked on the words; “Dove… is that you…?”

The pause was deafening, the air between the pair of them thick enough to be cut with a knife, yet Soma dared not move. It wasn’t until the woman spoke that she breathed as if all air had disappeared until then. 

“If you happen to be SG… yes,” the woman was tentative with her movements, unfolding the handkerchief to reveal the embroidery Soma knew so well. 

[hornyhermitry]

Montblanc On Mori Tower - A Ran Haitani Birthday Fic

Word Count: 1,704 Rating: Teen (some brief graphic violence) Summary: Ran ends a Bonten mission to meet his brother on Roppongi Mori Tower for birthday Montblanc

Elegant knuckles struck mercilessly at the face below them, as they had done a dozen times in the last few minutes. With an unappetising crunch, the cheekbones finally gave way under the blows and the maltreated middle-aged man spat blood onto the ground between his feet. He hung his head. His words were slurred, distorted by loose teeth and blood in his mouth.  "We have nothing more than this."A large hand yanked his head back by the hair, forcing him to look at his interrogator. "Don't take Bonten for a fool. We know you've been getting supplies from the Chinese behind our backs and peddling them without paying your share to us." The tall man with lilac-coloured hair signalled an errand boy to bring him a rag.

When he received it, he squatted down in front of the man tied to a chair and wiped the blood from his hands while scrutinising him from top to bottom. The prisoner averted his eyes. "We didn't do anything behind your back." Violet eyes did not take their eyes off the bound man as the man continued to speak in a velvety voice and handed the dirty rag back to the henchman. Leaning forward, he spoke at eye level with the piece of filth who had tried to double-cross Bonten. "Do you know who I am?" Eyes smeared with blood dripping from his forehead, the man looked at his interrogator.

"Haitani Ran."

Pain shot through his face as the telescopic baton struck his broken cheeks. Blow after blow crashed down on his battered face and the man bit his tongue to keep the pain from showing. Blood and tears coated his eyelashes. "You lie to my face even though you know who I am?" Ran straightened to his full height and looked down at the miserable petty criminal in front of him. With a rough kick, he kicked over the chair the man was tied to and struck him in the shin with the baton. The man whimpered and writhed under more blows, but with a wave from their leader, 2 henchmen pushed the traitor back to the ground with their feet on his chest. Ran glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist and then grabbed the immaculate suit jacket hanging over another chair. He had somewhere else to be tonight. Without another glance back at the prisoner, he took long strides towards the exit. "Take care of him."

Haitani Ran, one of Bonten's executive members, stepped over the threshold of the musty betting parlour outside. The stuffy odour of decades-old cigarette smoke and male sweat fell away from the comparatively tall man as he stepped onto the streets of Roppongi, and a haze of fresh air, barbecues and expensive perfumes welcomed him into the nightlife. As he shook a cigarette out of the packet, he noticed the blood spatter on his hands and clicked his teeth. He didn't like it when his work affected his appearance. Especially not on a day like today. His long fingers clamped the cigarette between his lips and under graceful eyebrows, which were now drawn together, he rubbed the remaining blood from his hands with a handkerchief.

A few metres behind him, something banged against the door of the supposed betting shop he had just left. Ran lit his cigarette. Either you did what Bonten said, or you suffered the consequences.

The well-dressed man strolled leisurely through the evening streets of Roppongi. He had grown up here in the small side streets between large fashion shops and exotic foreign artisan shops. The neighbourhood had an elegance and international flair that had always impressed Ran. As a young boy, he hadn't realised what a posh neighbourhood his foster family had lived in, but after he and his brother had gotten into more and more fights with other teenagers and also made other districts unsafe at night, he had realised how special the beauty of Roppongi was. Modern, elegant, glamorous and yet with a dark heart that, behind the façade, ensured that the money never stopped flowing through the coffers and purses of the big players. 

A bright female laugh drew his attention to a group of men outside a luxurious nightclub, helping impressively dressed hostesses out of their limousine. On the wall behind them was a huge advert advertising the new Loewe collection featuring a Japanese actor. Ran took a puff on his cigarette and smiled inconspicuously to himself. If he hadn't decided to follow Kurokawa Izana, he could have been the one to show off the extravagant silk suits and leather jackets on the catwalks of the world. He had never forgotten his earlier dreams of being a model. But just as the brands that lined the billboards and fashion shops along the streets of Roppongi had changed, Ran was no longer the dreamy boy he had once been. It was almost amusing to him that he had thought back then that the fashion world would be able to offer him what his current life had in store for him. For too long he had ignored what someone like Kurokawa had known about him since their first meeting - that he had violence in his blood. Sure, he also had a taste for the finer things in life - impeccable personal style, good food, beauty - but all of that only grew out of the empty darkness that had always lain dormant within him.

He wondered what Kurokawa would say if he could see Bonten and Kakucho now. Ran liked to imagine that such an empire was exactly what Kurokawa had wanted to build.

Without hesitation, long fingers stubbed out the cigarette on a nearby wall and Ran jogged up the stairs towards Roppongi Hills Tower. In front of him stretched the forecourt of the tower block, still crowded at this time of night with couples sitting on the benches alongside the large spider statue and putting their heads together in the shade of the treetops. But Ran paid them no further attention and headed straight for the lift that would take him up to the Sky Deck. Normally a popular excursion destination for tourists and residents, the Tower and Sky Deck were closed to the public today. A small advantage of its special position within the city. Completely alone as he entered the observatory, the sound of his expensive shoes echoed through the spacious room. It was dark. As a graceful shadow in the darkness, he moved through the room and finally stopped on the outside terrace. With a firm grip, his previously blood-stained hands closed around the steel railing and he took in the breathtaking view. The only source of light was the sea of lights below him. The wind carried the distant sounds of nightlife up to his viewing platform. The city pulsated beneath his grasp and the Tokyo Tower illuminated the distant night sky in a faint red. Casinos, bars and the drug trade pumped through Roppongi's veins and it was his doing. Like a spider, he had begun spinning his web around this part of the city more than 20 years ago and could now call it his own. Sano Manjiro stood at the head of Tokyo and as long as breath flowed through his body, Ran would serve him in memory of his former leader. But even if Mikey ruled Tokyo's underworld, Roppongi belonged to Ran.

Even lost in thought, the approaching footsteps and rustling of clothing did not escape the attention of the man who was only one of two halves that formed a whole. Leaning his elbows on the steel railing behind him, Ran turned to greet the visitor. Rindou stepped close and held out a cardboard package to Ran with both hands, emblazoned with the logo of a nearby patisserie. Purple eyes, a few shades lighter than his own, curved into a smile that made his brother's face look like a child's.

"Happy birthday, Nii-chan."

Rindou had always been the more emotional of the two Haitani brothers. The little brother who had been too wild for his own good, constantly getting scrapes and fractures from careless climbing, and who had been too impulsive as a teenager to ever be able to negotiate diplomatically with other gangs. Ran would always be loyal to Kurokawa Izana's legacy and do any dirty work for Bonten that needed to be done. But everything he did, he ultimately did for his brother. Unimpressed, he looked down his nose at his brother and then turned back to the view of the city. "Stop always pulling that face, Rin, you're not ten years old anymore." Rindou elbowed him half seriously in the side. "Stop complaining you lanky fuck, or I'll eat your Montblanc all by myself." Ran turned to his brother with a look of disbelief. "You wouldn't dare." Laughing, Rindou pushed Ran away from him and opened his mouth wide as he held the dessert over his face. Ran tried to grab his brother by the collar of his jacket, but he only slipped out of his jacket and stuck out his tongue. "This is how you wish your big brother a happy birthday, you little shit?" The ensuing scuffle between the two brothers made the sounds of the city fade into the background under their indignant shouts and catty insults. Since Ran had both longer arms and the better technique (definitely not because Rindou was only pretending to fight, he was far too stubborn for that), it wasn't long before they were both out of breath and leaning against the glass barrier.

They both pushed their sweaty hair out of their faces and looked at each other. 

"Montblanc reconciliation?"

Ran grabbed the box Rindou held out to him.

"Give it to me already."

"Happy birthday, Ran. Even at 37, you're still obnoxious."

With the first bite of dessert already in his mouth, Ran mumbled a barely intelligible "Thank you" and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. In the end, that was what had kept them alive all these years. Roppongi would have fallen to them anyway, Bonten or no Bonten. But the Haitani brothers didn't need a team. As long as they had each other.

[broomballkraken]

Title: As in Coffee, As in Life Chapter 13: I Get to Love You

Fandom: Octopath Traveler 2

Pairing: Osvald/Partitio

Word count: 3519

Warnings: None

Fic Summary: “A bit o’ sweetness helps everythin’ along. As in coffee, as in life.” That was the mantra of Partitio and Roque Coffee Company. Partitio’s first customer on the opening day of the café, however, very much disagreed with this philosophy…well, the coffee part of it anyway.

After learning more about Osvald, Partitio is determined to bring a little sweetness into the crestfallen professor’s life, whether he is ready for it or not.

Chapter Summary: It’s Osvald and Partitio’s wedding day, and both men feel incredibly blessed that they get to love each other for the rest of their lives.

♪One look at you

My whole life falls in line♪

It was a beautiful spring day in New Delsta. The sunrise had dried the grass that had been shimmering with dewdrops and gradually warmed the crisp, chilly air. Most of the people in the city went about business as usual, but for Osvald and Partitio, this day was slated to be one of the best of their lives.

“Pops...Will ya quit yer blubberin’? We haven’t even started yet.”

Rolling his eyes, Partitio let out a sigh as Papp continued to cry. Roque chuckled as he took over adjusting Partitio’s tie and helping him into his suit jacket.

Papp sniffed loudly and rubbed the handkerchief that Roque handed him over his face. “S-Sorry, chickadee, I’m just...so happy that my boy’s getting married to the love of his life!”

Partitio smiled - this one bright enough to blind anyone who looked straight at him - as his mind wandered to Osvald, who was busy getting ready in a separate room of the chapel. His fiancé...who would be his husband by the end of the day. The overwhelming happiness that flooded through him made tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away when Papp placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Partitio, I’m so proud of the man you’ve become,” Papp said, a smile crossing his tear-stained face, “And...I know your mom is damn proud of you too.”

The tears Partitio had been trying to hold back spilled down his face, and he pressed his face against Papp’s shoulder when he was pulled into a hug. Partitio felt Roque’s hand start rubbing his back, and that only made him cry harder; he really had the best family in the world, and he was certain that his mom would be watching over him and Osvald as long as they lived.

“Thanks, Pops. And you too, Roque,” Partitio said when he pulled away and turned to his stepdad. Roque’s eyes went wide when Partitio hugged him, and he too shed some tears when Partitio hugged him. “Thanks for always bein’ here for Pops an’ me, for the good times and the bad.”

“Partitio...” Roque swallowed thickly as he fought back more tears, and he smiled as he returned the hug. “You truly have grown into a fine young man. I wish you all the happiness in the world with Osvald.”

“Aw, hun...”

As Roque lost the battle with himself and broke down crying, Papp wrapped his arms around both him and Partitio, pulling them into a tight embrace. Partitio counted himself damn lucky to have such an amazing pair of parents.

“Ah, am I interrupting?”

Partitio looked up to find Hikari - his best man - poking his head into the room, and he beamed and waved him in. “Naw, c’mon in Hikari!”

Hikari chuckled as he walked up to Partitio, holding up a small, ornate box. “I’ve got the rings all ready to go. Ah, and this!” He opened another box that contained a boutonniere, affixed with a bright yellow dahlia. Hikari had his already pinned to his jacket - that was probably Agnea’s handiwork - and Partitio stood as still as possible to allow Hikari to pin his in place.

“Thankee kindly!” Partitio said, and he pulled Hikari into a hug. “For that, and for standin’ next to me on the happiest day of my life.”

Hikari tightened his arms around Partitio and placed a hand on his shoulder when he pulled away. “Of course, Partitio. You’re my best friend, after all. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Alright fellas, it’s almost time!” Papp interrupted as Roque straightened his tie.

Partitio nodded eagerly as a giddy happiness swelled within his gut, and they all finished getting ready together.

♪I prayed for you

Before I called you mine♪

“Hold still, Osvald. I don’t want to accidentally stab you.”

“Sorry.”

Clarissa - Osvald’s best woman - chuckled and shook her head as she finally succeeded in pinning his yellow dahlia boutonniere in place. “You’re trembling. Nervous?”

“...Maybe.”

“Oh, Ossy dear, everything will be fine!” Diana said as she fussed with Osvald’s hair, brushing it smooth before tying it neatly back.

Harry put on his suit jacket and chuckled. “You’re not afraid of being left at the altar, are you?”

“Dad...” Osvald grumbled, pouting as his mom and Clarissa dissolved into giggles. “It’s not that, it’s just...” He paused to swallow past the lump that had formed in his throat, and he looked between the three with watery eyes.

“I just...never thought that I could ever feel this kind of happiness again, after Rita...”

“Oh honey...” Diana hugged him tightly, and Clarissa and his dad were quick to join in. “Rita was a wonderful wife to you, and mother to Elena. I just know that she’s so happy that you found love again.”

Osvald let a few tears fall down his face, but he managed to compose himself before getting too carried away; he didn’t want to walk down the aisle with red, puffy eyes.

“Thanks, mom.”

“Hey! You guys almost ready?”

Osvald looked up when Elena rushed into the room, bouncing on her toes excitedly. She bounded over to Osvald and hugged him tight, looking up at him with a beaming smile on her face.

“You look great, Papa! I’m so happy for you,” she said, sniffing as she brushed away a few tears. Osvald smiled and gently hugged her back, careful not to mess up her hair.

“Thank you, Elena - and all of you - for supporting me today.” Osvald’s gazed passed over the most treasured people in his life; he really could not have made it to this moment without their unwavering support during his darkest moments.

“We love you so much, Osvald,” Diana said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

Harry smiled and placed his hand on Osvald’s shoulder. “Yes, and we’re so proud of you, son. Of the man and father that you’ve become.”

Osvald had to clench his jaw hard to keep himself from breaking down, but he was saved when Elena groaned and stuck out her tongue.

“Ugh, you guys are taking the sappiness to a whole new level,” she complained. “Can ya save some of it for the ceremony?”

Clarissa laughed and leaned over to adjust Elena’s askew hair clip. “Oh, you’ll be just as sappy when you find your special someone too.”

“Doubt it.”

Diana gasped after glancing down at her watch. “Oh dear, it’s almost time! Let’s hurry now!”

Osvald sighed and shook his head as he let his mom fuss over him again. He had a broad smile on his face, however, and he was really looking forward to finally being able to call Partitio his husband.

♪Oh, I can't believe it's true sometimes

Oh, I can't believe it's true♪

The quaint chapel was packed with Osvald and Partitio’s beloved friends and family, who were almost as excited as the happy couple was to celebrate their marriage, judging by the loud, eager chatting that filled the room.

That chatter quickly faded away once the music started, and everyone’s attention turned to the back, where Hikari and Clarissa were walking towards each other from opposite ends. When they met at the center aisle, Clarissa placed her hand in the crook of Hikari’s arm before continuing towards the altar.

Meanwhile, Partitio emerged from the right side of the back of the room, looking exasperated as Papp sobbed on one side of his, while Roque was practically shaking with the effort to hold himself together.

“C’mon Pops, yer embarrassin’ me...” Partitio mumbled, rolling his eyes when Papp just cried harder. As he tried in vain to get his parents to get it together, Osvald led his parents and Elena towards him from the opposite side.

Diana and Harry were much better at keeping their composure than Partitio’s parents, but Elena had started crying and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Elena, my dear, are you okay-”

“I’m f-fine, Papa. I just...got something in my eye!”

Osvald chuckled as Elena huffed and shook her head to compose herself, and when he approached the center aisle, he looked up, and the sight took his breath away.

Partitio accepted that Papp and Roque were lost causes, so he turned his focus back to his front, and when his eyes met Osvald’s, tears fell down his cheeks as the biggest smile that he’d ever worn crossed his face.

♪I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you

It's a promise I'm making to you♪

Osvald had always thought that Partitio was a handsome man, but today he looked like an ethereal being that had descended directly from the heavens. It was his turn to tear up, and he pretended to not notice the smug look that Elena was sending his way.

It was like everything else around Partitio had faded away, leaving him to gawk at how incredibly handsome his soon-to-be-husband looked at this moment. Swallowing thickly, he blinked away a few tears as he came to a stop in front of Osvald, eyes locking as their respective escorts made their way to their seats in the front row.

“D-Darlin’,” Partitio stammered as he reached out with a sweaty hand to take Osvald’s, ”you look…Hoo-eey...”

Osvald chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze, before lifting it to his face and placing a tender kiss to the back of it, which earned a few giggles and ‘aws’ from the crowd. “You look rather handsome as well, my dear.”

Partitio beamed as he looped his arm with Osvald’s and shot him a wink. “Well, I do hope that yer goin’ my way, hehe.”

Osvald chuckled, and the fond smile that crossed his face gave Partitio pause. “Always.”

Laughing, the two men walked down the aisle, basking in the amount of love and support that they were receiving from everyone in attendance, and they stopped in front of the altar. Temenos was waiting for them with a serene smile on his face; both Osvald and Partitio had been quite surprised to find out that the detective was ordained, but they were very happy that they could be married by one of their dear friends.

♪Whatever may come your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do

I get to love you

I get to love you♪

Osvald and Partitio turned to face each other as Temenos began the ceremony, but his words seemed far away and muffled, as the two men only had eyes for each other at this moment.

Osvald barely registered when Temenos turned to address him directly. “...Do you, Osvald, take Partitio to be your husband?”

“I do,” he luckily managed to say without missing a beat, a soft smile crossing his face as he gave Partitio’s hands a squeeze.

“And do you, Partitio,” Temenos continued as he turned towards him, “take Osvald to be your husband?”

“I sure do!” Partitio loudly blurted out, causing their friends and family to laugh. His face flushed with embarrassment as a sheepish smile crossed his face. His eyes met Osvald’s again, who was watching him with an amused glint in his eyes, and gods damn it Partitio was so fucking ecstatic to be marrying this man right now.

♪The way you love

It changes who I am

I am undone

I thank God once again♪

They exchanged rings and the rest of the ceremony continued without a hitch, until Temenos smiled brightly and said the words that Osvald and Partitio had been waiting for:

“...and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom!”

Cheers rang out from their guests, and Partitio wasted no time in grabbing Osvald’s face and smashing their lips together for their very first kiss as a married couple. The cheers continued when Partitio pulled away, and he pressed his forehead against Osvald’s, given pause at just how much love and adoration he saw reflected in his husband’s pretty eyes.

“I love you, Osvald...my husband.” The word felt foreign on Partitio’s tongue, but it wouldn’t be that way for long, because he knew for a fact that he was going to overuse the hell out of it.

Osvald couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, and he pulled Partitio into a tight hug and cried softly against his shoulder. “I-I love you too, Partitio. I’m...overjoyed to call you my husband.”

“Daw, sweetheart...”

♪Oh, I can't believe it's true sometimes

Oh, I can't believe it's true♪

The mirth of their guests only grew louder when Temenos ended the ceremony with, “May I introduce, for the first time, Mister and Mister Osvald and Partitio Vanstein-Yellowil!”

Osvald shared a fond glance with Partitio - his husband - before taking his hand and lifting their arms into the air, coaxing another loud cheer out of their guests. Lacing their fingers together, Partitio beamed as they made their way out of the chapel, followed by their wedding party.

After taking a few pictures there, they all piled into the limousine and drove right to Partitio and Roque Coffee Company, where Partitio and Osvald took one of their favorite photos of the day, standing in the very place that they first met, sharing a tender kiss with the huge pride flag hanging above the door directly overhead.

♪I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you♪

When the happy couple were satisfied with the pictures that had been taken, the wedding party headed to the location of the reception, which was Solistia University’s largest banquet hall (which had been picked mostly due to Osvald’s very generous employee discount combined with Partitio’s alumni discount). After they had made their grand entrance, Osvald and Partitio went around to greet every single treasured friend and family member who had decided to celebrate their special day with them.

“Ahh! Congratulations y’all!” Agnea exclaimed after giving Partitio and Osvald both the biggest of hugs. “That was such a beautiful ceremony!” Throné nodded in agreement before turning to help her girlfriend Rai Mei untangle one of her earrings from her hair.

“Yeah, congrats!” Ochette chimed in as she walked up to them with two full plates of hors d'oeuvres. Osvald raised an eyebrow at her, while Partitio doubled over laughing.

“Shucks, Ochette, didya leave any for the rest of us?” he teased, and Ochette puffed out her swiftly-reddening cheeks.

“C’mon, Parti! Cheering so much at the ceremony really worked up my appetite.”

“Heh, I’m just teasin’ ya!”

Osvald laughed at their banter, and he and Partitio moved on to other guests. After that, the meal was served, during which Hikari and Clarissa both gave touching best man/woman speeches that left both grooms in tears.

♪It's a promise I'm making to you

Whatever may come your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do♪

After cutting the cake (which turned into a bit of an amusing ordeal when Osvald’s piece that he ate for the picture had somehow gotten all over his beard), it was time for their first dance as a married couple. Osvald took Partitio’s hand and they took to the dance floor alone, and when Gil’s band started playing their song, it felt as if they were the only two people in the room.

“Shucks, Osvald, today’s really gone off without a hitch,” Partitio said with a smile, “I’m surprised that most of the folks we invited managed to show up!”

Osvald nodded. “Yes, we drew quite the crowd. It’s a shame that Castti couldn’t make it though.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s probably havin’ her first baby right about now!” Partitio gushed, pausing to duck under Osvald’s arm when he twirled him around. “I betcha Edmund’s a godsdamn mess too.”

“I’m sure they’ll both be fine. She’s a doctor, after all.”

“Heh, yeah, you’re probably right ‘bout that.”

When the song ended, Osvald’s next dancer partner was Papp, while Partitio was paired with Diana, and Roque and Harry got a turn after that. When it was time for everyone to take the dance floor, Osvald and Partitio greatly enjoyed letting loose and having a great time with their guests.

♪I get to love you

I get to love you♪

As the night went on, guests started to slowly trickle out, until only a handful of people remained. Most of them were sporting at least a happy buzz, and that included the newlyweds, who were currently occupying the mostly-empty dance floor.

Partitio lifted his head from Osvald’s chest and smiled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “This really has been the best day of my life, Osvald, and I can’t wait to share the rest of it with you.”

Osvald chuckled and gave Partitio’s hand a squeeze as they swayed gently to the music. “I can. I don’t want it to go by too quickly. I want to cherish every single moment with you, my love.”

“Osvald...” The tears that Partitio had been holding back fell down his face, and Osvald wiped them away with a feather-light touch. “Shucks...I love you so damn much.”

♪And they say love is a journey

I promise that I'll never leave

When it's too heavy to carry

Remember this moment with me♪

There was a commotion across the dance floor, and they looked to see Papp lifting Roque into the air, only to drop him moments later. Partitio burst out laughing and buried his face into Osvald’s chest, and Osvald let out a rumbling chuckle himself.

“That’ll be us someday, you know,” Partitio said as he shot Osvald a wink.

“...Please don’t drop me.”

“Never, darlin’!” A tender smile crossed Partitio’s face as he lifted Osvald’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss onto his wedding ring, his voice dropping to a whisper: “I’ll never let you fall, never again. I promise you that.”

“Partitio...”

♪I get to love you♪

♪I get to love you♪

Osvald cupped Partitio’s cheek, staring deep into his husband’s eyes before kissing him, soft and tender, earning a couple wolf-whistles from the few remaining guests. Eventually, the night had to end, and after helping the wedding party clean up, Osvald, Partitio, and Elena made their way home.

“Ah, this feels nice!” Partitio said, after he had flopped onto the bed and settled in under the covers. Osvald was quick to join him, and he chuckled when Partitio immediately latched onto his side and snuggled as close as he could to him.

“I agree.” Osvald wrapped his arms around Partitio, who rest his head on his chest as Osvald placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “I...feel like I could pass out at any given moment.” Partitio raised an eyebrow when Osvald frowned and averted his gaze, and he hummed when a realization hit him.

“Heh, yeah, me too darlin’.” Partitio kissed Osvald before nuzzling their noses together. “As much as I’d love to jump my new husband’s bones...I’m so tired...” He snickered when Osvald let out a relieved sigh; Partitio had guessed right as to what he had been worried about.

“As sad as I am to miss out on that,” Osvald started as he lifted Partitio’s left hand to his face and placed a tender kiss upon his wedding ring, “we have the rest of our lives ahead of us, and I plan to use much of that time for - ahem - ‘bone jumping.’”

Partitio felt his cheeks heat up, and he barked out a laugh as he entwined their fingers together. “Yer a hoot, darlin’! Hehe, maybe we can get a head start on that bright and early tomorrow. Might need a good shower and a lower body massage, if ya catch my drift.”

“...You’re a degenerate.”

“And yer stuck with me for life, ha!”

Osvald burst out laughing and smacked Partitio with his pillow, starting a pillow fight for the ages. After being narrowly defeated, Osvald accepted his punishment of being the big spoon and wrapped his arms around Partitio after he had settled in front of him.

“Love ya Osvald, my darlin’ husband...” Partitio mumbled, letting out a long yawn and letting his eyes slip shut.

“I love you too, Partitio, my heart.” After placing a kiss against Partitio’s shoulder, Osvald covered his hands with his as he fell asleep; Osvald couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve such an incredible husband. As he started to drift off as well, Osvald still found it hard to imagine that he could have ever gotten to this level of pure bliss again after everything he had been through.

However, it seemed that all he had needed was someone to listen and dilute the bitterness that had settled within his broken heart. After all, in the wise words of a former greenhouse coffee shop owner (even though Osvald still didn’t agree with the coffee part):

“A bit o’ sweetness helps everything along. As in coffee, as in life.”

♪ I get to love you♡♪

[canariie]

Hiii I saw that you are taking fanfic requests and I'd love to rq a Hitsuhina future fic where they are married and with kids, maybe something in the same vein as Baby it's Cold Outside bc I absolutely adore how you wrote their interactions here and I think that there needs to be more content of Hitsuhina having a family of their own in general 💖

Thank you Anon for the lovely note! I am a HUGE fan of domestic fluff so it makes me so happy that you enjoyed it!

I have a multichapter WIP in the works, tentatively called faded, so I figured this would be a good one to answer with! There's still a lot that I have to write and plan; I want to take special care for this one because it was inspired by a conversation with a dear friend so please look out for it in the future!

For now, please enjoy this scene!

—

faded [selected scene]

Rating: K+

Synopsis: Toushiro and Momo watch the festival fireworks while her son sleeps.

Word Count: 860 words

Setting: post-Epilogue, fifty years (and then some) in the future when Momo and Toushiro are adults

—

“I’ve never seen you so gentle with anyone…” but me. Momo cleared her throat, focusing on the little boy’s dark curls. Against the dark of the night, they shone as the colours of the fireworks blazed in the background.

Toushiro laughed softly, running his fingers through Natsume’s hair slowly. “He’s very hard not to care for. I can see why he’s loved by everyone.” A ghost of a proud smile settled on his face, making Momo’s heart stutter.

“But what makes it the easiest,” he murmured, “is that all the best parts of him—they’re all from you.” Toushiro looked up, his teal eyes deepening to an emerald and Momo felt the breath escape from her chest. And just like that, she felt younger, though a warrior worn of battle, yet a girl less experienced in matters of the heart.

“His smile, his cheerful personality, his hair, his best belief in others—I’m glad he takes after you.” Natsume made a slight noise and Toushiro adjusted him, pulling him up onto his lap and letting the little boy sleep against his chest.

The scene was so tender and heart felt and it was just like she imagined a million times that it squeezed her heart, until it felt almost painful to breathe. Like a tidal wave of emotion, every single feeling that she had held back started to pour out, overwhelming her. Before she knew it, tears started streaming down her face, and she tried her best to quickly wipe them away.

“Hinamori?”

Momo shook her head quickly. “No, no these are happy tears,” she sniffled, trying to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief. “In my wildest dreams, I’ve always hoped to see the two of you together.”

Toushiro looked at her with the same look he gave Natsume before he pulled her to his side, settling his hand on her waist. “Nothing in my dreams would ever have compared to this.”

That made Momo cry even harder, tucking herself into Toushiro’s neck like she had done many times years ago when they were both younger and the world felt smaller. Inside she knew that was much too old for this—she was a mother for goodness sake—but under the cover of the night sky, she finally felt the courage to admit to herself that maybe she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Let’s just hope he isn’t a Bedwetter like his mother,” Momo could hear him chuckle to which she quickly jabbed him on the side. “That is a habit I grew out of years ago—and it was one time!” Momo defended, not raising her voice any higher to disturb the little boy. She swiped at the dried tear tracks, sending an attempt at a glare at the taller man, which did nothing to sway the smirk from his face.

There was a moment of quiet, and Momo could hear the voices from beyond slowly quiet and the lights flicker out, like summer fireflies bidding goodbyes. The fireworks were starting to slow, until the only light that remained was the lone white moon. It made the hair of the tenth captain shine and casted deep shadows on his face, brightening his eyes.

“But to be completely honest, Natsume’s best traits are his eyes. When I first saw him open them up after he was born,” Momo smiled wistfully pulling back the hair from Natsume’s forehead, “I immediately fell in love.

“They’re a bit brighter than yours but it reminds me of the ocean. It made any pain of the pregnancy completely worth it.” She bent forward and kissed the little boy’s forehead. “I would do anything for him.”

Momo traced a finger gently along the profile of her son. “But his smile, when he truly is over the moon and his eyes shine—that’s you Toushiro, that’s all you.”

She looked up and Toushiro was looking back at her with an inexplicable look on his face. While it stirred old feelings in her, Momo lamented inwardly that in his absence, she had lost her ability to read him in moments like this.

He pulled her hand towards him, making her tilt her head up and losing herself in deep emerald.

“Hinamori,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “I care for you—for him, for us.”

“Oh Hitsugaya-kun,” Momo shook her head, her brown eyes shining. “I know you do.”

She gently pulled her hand away, holding it against her own heart. “But there’s too much at stake now—I can’t risk anything that can hurt him. You leaving without a word, fifty years ago—it hurt me more than ever blade ever did. And that’s a pain I swore I never would have Natsume go through.”

Toushiro was left speechless, the only movement the widening of his eyes. Momo swiftly got up, taking Natsume in her arms. She held out the tenth division cloak to him which the white-haired man took quietly. “Thank you for tonight. Good night—Hitsugaya-taicho.”

Before he could say anything, she turned her back on him and moved through the night with the sleeping boy mindless of the storm of emotions inside of his mother.

—

I hope this leaves people with a lot of questions as it did answers haha This won't come out for a long time but please look forward to it!

[writing-havoc]

I'm literally obsessed. I'm sure you've seen my stalking your recent kaz x reader fics and I will not apologize for it! You're amazing!!! Can I request a Kaz x reader with the two prompts (from a post you rebloged):

"You're a little hurt, that's all" (said by Kaz)

and

“You need to distract me. do something, anything.“ (said by Reader)

PS I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort. ;)

But seriously though. You're writing is amazing, and I hope you know that. ❤ Thank you for the extra comfort character content!!!

Dust and Rubble

♡ Summary: A plan goes wrong. You get injured. Kaz tries to help

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Warnings: Vomit, Blood, Description of Injury

♡ WC: 4.7k

♡ Prompts: "You're a little hurt, that's all." // "You need to distract me. Do something, anything."

I seen your comment on my masterlist post but since this is a sideblog, I couldn't reply. But, yes! I will tag you in all my Kaz fics from here on if I remember to :]. Thank you for all the kind words you've been sending me.

Please excuse any grammar and spelling errors. Hope you enjoy <3

Prompts used came from this list by screnwriter

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The dress clothes you were wearing were made out of some of the finest exported materials you could get in Ketterdam, stolen from the closet of a high end family a mission was centered around months ago. It was your favorite color, and it was a crime that it wasn't simply named after you with how stunning you looked dressed in it from head to toe under the yellow lights of the ballroom, your skin shinning and teeth glowing from pure euphoria.

You fit in perfectly.

It was truly life's biggest shame that it would most certainly be drenched in dust, rubble, and blood by now.

Kaz sat up, eyes blurry and doubled- no, quadrupled, and ears ringing louder than the screams escaping from the throats of those who just became widows. His head was pounding, entire body begging him to lay down where he sat struggling and just rest for five more minutes.

But he couldn't. He absolutely could not. He had to find you. He had to find the others, and get the fuck out of here.

He rubbed at his eyes, gloves unhelpful as they dragged even more dust on his eye lids. A handkerchief in his dress-pocket was missing, so it was either fumble around with his eyes closed or deal with the consequences of dust filled eyes watering uncontrollably.

The latter was the option he went with.

His bad leg screamed as he pulled himself upright. Every breath was a fight, but nothing seemed to be broken or bloody. Just incredibly sore and leaden with what he's now registering as lifeless bodies thrown on top of him by the blast.

He wants to expel his entire stomach.

Waves clash at his knees, spreading up his thighs as he feels the weight of a severed arm slide off his back and drag down his body, hitting the floor with what should be a thump but is just followed by more ringing.

The only reason he knows he's not completely deaf is because he can heat the higher pitched screams around him, and voices that are running by him sound like they're underwater.

This is, by all means, a good sign.

As the last of the dirt is filtered out of his eyes by tears, he takes a good look around.

Women and men alike are sprinting around the ball room, looking for their loved ones and helping out those who are still looking. Some find eachother across the room and run into eachothers arms, embracing eachother tightly no matter how much pain they were in. Others clutch the lifeless bodies of their deceased or injured partners, begging to the saints and anyone around them to help.

Kaz's heart is pounding. He can feel it now, trying to claw its way out of his chest because he can't fucking see you and his leg hurts so bad it feels like he broke it again. But he forces himself to walk forward, to look up instead of down because if you're anything else but fine then he has to face the reality that he may have to adjust to this stupid saintless world without you in it and he's not sure he could cope with that.

Fuck, where did it go wrong?

The bombs weren't supposed to be anywhere near the inside of this room. They were supposed to be outside on dumpsters and inside crates to create distractions and block off paths in their escape. Were they labeled wrong? Did they bring them inside? But they were old and rotting. There shouldn't have been anything useful in them that would require them to bring them inside for literally any reason.

Did Wylan place them on the wrong crates? Did someone bring them inside in a drunken haze? But, how did parts of the fucking ceiling come crashing down?

The blueprints had to have been wrong. Everything must have been wrong when coming up with this plan and he didn't see it in the entire month it was being fleshed out.

Kaz tripped on a piece of rebar, it's presence covered by the torn dress of a different guest. His foot was sent alight with pain, knees landing awkwardly on palm sized pieces of rocks that made them feel fuzzy.

For fucks sake, where the hell are you?

And in a horribly timed moment, when he's on his stomach and arms feeling like jelly as they hoisted his body up, that is when he saw you.

He will never forget the full body reaction he had when he saw you.

You were laying face first on the ground, your clothes torn and soaked with blood that for a moment he hoped wasn't yours, but instantly knew it was.

Because in a terrible fit of irony, there was two large pieces of stained glass sticking out of your back. And Kaz wanted nothing more than to release the entirety of his stomach contents when he noticed they almost looked like wings.

This was a joke. A horrible, horrible joke.

In that moment, however, he saw your arms move, hand coming to rub at your face and another attempting to roll yourself on your side.

Your movement caused one of the shards to tilt, falling out of your wound and shattering against the ground. He's never heard more clearly than then when you let out a blood curdling scream as it tore your flesh and the other tilted as well.

It, however, didn't fall out, and only hooked itself under your skin, pulling it up and outward.

In an extraordinary display of adrenaline, Kaz lifted his body off the ground and marched on over to you.

"Y/n." He tried, hearing coming back to him in full swing.

It was overwhelming, the amount of people screaming and the sound of rubble falling against eachother. Bodies squelching as people stepped on them in their rush to get out and your cries as you continued to try and hoist yourself up.

He tried to stop you, but couldn't get there in time as the other largest shard slid out of your body and stained the floor with your blood.

"Y/n!" He called. He sank to his knees when he got to you, hardly thinking as he helped to get you on your hands and knees.

The water dragged up to his waist, splashing on his stomach. It jostled his stomach and made it very, very difficult to not regurgitate everything he had eaten.

"Kaz." Your voice was gruff and he watched in horror as blood mixed with your spit and fell to the floor.

He lifted you up, letting you sit on your legs to get a good look at you.

Your hair was filled with dirt and dust, eyelashes caked similarly. Red dripped from your busted bottom lip and down your chin. The gash was sure to scar, but at least the blood wasn't from a chest wound like he thought.

"Kaz." You called again, letting your head loll around. "Kaz my back really hurts. And my head." You tried to bring your arms up but let out a strangled sob when you couldn't.

"You're a little hurt, thats all." He lied, completely betraying his own mantra. Your clothes were becoming soaked in your blood and there was no fucking way he was going to be able to get you out without damn near carrying you and the water was already too high.

Without allowing himself to think about it, he got up and hooked his hands under your arms. You howled with pain, but you at least had the sense to help him as your wobbly legs straightened. Tears streamed down your face and your arms hung limp, but at least you were up.

"Alright, dove." He swallowed his spit, squeezing it past the lump in his throat. "We need to go, okay? We need to get out of here."

"But, the job-"

"Fuck the job." The words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. "We can attempt it again a different day. But we need to live to see that day, yeah?"

You nodded, and he couldn't help but be a little grateful that you were a little out of it.

He tried his best to encourage you forward, but words of encouragement are the bottom of his list of things he's adept at, especially in situations such as this. So it was mostly limited to "Right there" and "You're okay."

You were no more than forty feet from the Slat when you went still, eyes squeezed shut and arms still hanging limp at your sides. The back of your clothes were soaked and slowly seeping to the sides. It slowed a lot since you began your trek back, but it was still concerning.

"We have to keep going."

"You need to distract me." You blurted, taking a staggering step forward. "Do something. Anything."

"Distraction." He mumbled, mostly to himself, partly to you because what the fuck was he supposed to do? There was nothing around he could use and his leg felt like it was splintering in his calf.

He could say something. Maybe put you into shock somehow. But you don't get shocked easily and you're usually the one spitting out random facts and tidbits of information. He doesn't have random facts and tidbits of information stored in his head outside of the ones you've given him-

Well. Actually...

"Did you know birds have one of the most sophisticated and impressive breathing systems of any animal?"

You lifted your head, peeking your eyes open to look at him with an expression of intrigue underneath the pain.

He went on. "They've got airsacs. Attached to their lungs." He struggled for the information. "They've usually got about nine, three up front and six in the back in their rump."

You chuckled childishly. "Rump."

"Yes, rump." He fought off a smile. "It takes two breathing cycles to complete one breath. If I'm not mistaken, it's called unidirectional breathing. We use bidirectional. In and out. They breathe in while also breathing out."

You trudged forward, nearly there. "Is that why their bones are hollow?"

He stared in slight surprise. "Yes, actually. They've got pneumatic bones with big open crevices that store air, which in turn helps them with flying."

"That's so cool."

"Learned it a while ago while listening to some tourist veterinarian while on a job." He could recall the job nearly perfectly. "He had various picturegraphs and diagrams-"

Kaz took a step forward and hollered in pain with a closed mouth, bad leg completely collapsing underneath him. It was probably fractured again.

He should have told you to shut up and keep walking. Instead he indulged you and got distracted trying to distract you.

Yet, he doesn't regret it.

"You okay?" You leaned down as much as your body would let you, wincing in pain every inch down.

He was about to respond when you seemed to have bent down too far, your entire body collapsing to the ground. You only had enough time to stop your head from cracking against the wet cobblestone ground before you went unconscious, body ragdolling in a pile of limbs.

The entire world seemed to be crashing again. In the back of his mind he knew he should act rationally, pick you up and drag you to the Slat, but he couldn't get his body to move.

'You're dead' he thought. 'You've lost too much blood. You died.'

Those thoughts were only there for a moment before he sprung into action, letting the rational take over and hoisting you up and over his shoulder. He ignored the searing pain in his leg and the waves crashing at his chest and licking up his neck, limping to the door of the Slat and throwing it open.

He was lucky that Nina had made it back some time ago.

Very, very lucky.

"Zenik!" He called out. She responded immediately, her entire face falling as she seen who he was holding. Matthias' name was out of her mouth in an instant, his hulking body coming from around the corner. He stares for no more than a second before running over and taking you from Kaz's back.

"What happened?" She asked as she rushed down the stairs and into the makeshift infirmary, Matthias in front and Kaz taking up the rear.

"Glass shards. Stuck right through about three inches."

She ordered Matthias to set you down on your side. Placing you on your chest posed too much risk to your breathing stopping completely. Nina immediately got to work, tearing the clothes off your shoulders and exposing your back.

Her hands hovered over the gashes on your back, eyes squinted as she felt around for the damage. She cursed and moved her hands, the room watching as your muscles began to flex and more blood poured from your wounds. He nearly yelled at her to demand an explanation when a smaller piece of glass exited the wounds. She took them and dropped them in a bucket next to the table.

"They were moving around as you two were walking, going deeper." She closed her eyes completely now, hands immediately back to the gashes. "One of them nicked an artery."

"Fix it." He ordered.

"Oh really? That's what I should be doing?" Her eyes snapped open, glaring at your back. He knew they were supposed to be directed at him. "I thought I was supposed to be cutting it."

He glared at the side of her face. "Don't get smart with me, Zenik."

"Then don't give me stupid orders."

And he knows it was a stupid order. He knows. But he had to say it. He had to.

He paced around the little amount of open space he had. His skin felt like it was crawling where he slung you over his shoulder and he was drowning, the water covering his nose and nearly covering his eyes. His stomach felt like it was turning inside out, guts twisting at sharp angles. He was absolutely soaking in his own sweat and his fucking leg-

"Kaz if you're going to pace you're going to have to leave. It's distracting."

"Last I checked you don't give orders around here."

"No, I don't. But I'm the one currently fixing your love interest and I need silence and no distractions to achieve that."

He felt his shoulders bristle and cheeks grows warm. "Y/n's not my love interest."

That got a chuckle out of her. "Please, Brekker. Don't lie to yourself. It makes you look daft." He was about to retort, but the door above slammed open, Pim popping her head around the corner once she trekked her way down the stairs.

"Jesper and the rest of the crew are back."

White hot anger surged in his blood. When he got ahold of them he would tear them in half.

His eyes flickered to your body, Matthias holding you on your side with Nina pouring every ounce of her focus into fixing your wounds. And then he thought of himself, pestering her like a gnat to fresh fruit and being of no help at all.

He really wasn't like himself. Not with you.

"I'll be there in a moment." He leveled his voice. "Herd them to my office."

Pim nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

He waited until the footsteps faded until he looked at Nina again. A thin sheen of sweat was plastering to her forehead.

He took a deep breath, and then grabbed a nearby bucket and discarded any and all of his insides into it. Spit collected in his cheeks, making them burn as it coated his teeth. The back of his throat burned. He swished it around, spitting whatever was left into the bucket. He dryheaved for a few moments, cursing all the saints he didn't believe in before putting the bucket back where it came from, wiping trickles of bile from his lips and transferring it to his clothes.

The water was lowering, heavy against his chest but no longer covering his face. He tried to remember your warmth, a stark contrast to the charactered piercing cold of corpses, and walked around the table and up the stairs.

"If she dies, Zenik, so do you." He completely ignored Matthias' protective growl.

She nodded. "Noted."

He held onto the railing, knuckles turning white underneath his gloves. The backs of his cheeks were collecting spit once more, stomach contracting. He begged to his own body to just wait a little longer, and took the last step up and into the main floor of the Slat.

Dregs stared, but he couldn't be bothered with them. All he could see was red and green and feel red and blue, and the only people that could explain this was up several stairs and in his office.

It was a blur all the way up until he reached his door and swung it open. Jesper, Wylan, and Inej were sitting around the room, all staring at him with a look of guilt and mild fear.

He closed the door behind him and grabbed his cane from the umbrella bucket. It wasn't loud, but the sound was firm and noticeably being masked as something it was not.

With gritted teeth and venom in his voice, his question-turned-statement rang clear in the quiet room.

"What. Happened."

-----------

You were dressed in a baggy white button-up shirt and the coziest pair of sleep pants that Kaz could find in Ketterdam. The material wasnt itchy. Rather, it was soft and felt addicting on the pads of his fingers when he dragged them over it, slow and meticulous. They weren't nearly as high end as the clothes you were in before, and they weren't your favorite color by a long shot, but you still looked as attractive as ever.

The chair Kaz was sitting in was old and uncomfortable. Everytime he shifted he felt as if it would break underneath him. The wood bent and groaned no matter what position he took, but he would deal with it as he always does.

He watched your breathing, eyes glued to your chest for any sign that you were going under.

It had been several days since the mishap at the ball, and he was still as angry as he was that day after walking up all those steps to his office for an explanation.

It was stupid. The mistakes that were made were childish at best, completely and utterly rubbish at worst. A child could have done better. A child after downing several pints of beer could have done better.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rapidly beating heart.

He's already gotten too worked up over this several times, a sour mood following him day in and day out.

Nina was able to fix your artery, but it was the loss of blood that truly worried her. She had no idea if you would pull through, but she did her best.

Realistically, Kaz couldn't blame her. He knew that she would do her best and then some to make sure that you would have the best chance of pulling through. But seeing you still unconscious, even if Nina was the one keeping you under, made him resent her a little. A lot. But you being kept unconscious with your healing process sped up was the fastest way for you to recover, so he'll keep his mouth shut and his brooding (for the most part) to himself.

Being down here gave him a lot of time to think. Which usually wasn't a problem. He treasured the time he got to himself, to continue scheming and analyzing blueprints and updating ledgers. Small meticulous tasks to fill his day and cards and dice to fill his night.

But he didn't realize that he treasured the small moments with you even more. Even if you didn't invade his space directly, he enjoyed the subtle ways in which you did.

The tea you brought him late at night would sit on a coaster next to the papers on his desk, the aroma filling his nose as he drunk it slowly, savoring the way you got it right almost every time these days. Little sayings you spewed at random moments would sit in his mind, always just to the left of his current thoughts. Little trinkets you found that you thought he would enjoy would find their place around his office or in a drawer just dedicated to you.

He didn't get those anymore. Not with you down here.

He shifted, internally wincing at the way the chair groaned.

It was loud enough that he missed your own groan. But he didn't miss the way you shifted and the way his name fell from your lips.

"Kaz?" You called into the room.

"To your right." He could attempt to play this cool all he wanted, but the second his own voice made it back to his ears he knew pretending was futile.

You turned your head, and your entire body relaxed when your eyes scanned his virtually unscathed body. He didn't realize the weight that he was carrying on his shoulders until he really processed that you were alive and finally awake. He felt lighter. Lighter in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.

"How much pain?" He asked, getting up from his chair and standing next to the table.

You wiggled around, instantly wincing. "Not too bad." Of course you would say thay. "Just a little sore."

He put his hand next to yours on the table, leather gloves feeling a little hot around his hands.

"What even happened?"

He sighed heavily, annoyance plaguing his body. "Turns out they moved all the rotting crates outside into the building. They didn't want anything outside to sway the professional look they were trying to achieve." He tapped the table. "The bombs were inside, and our blueprints were outdated by nearly a decade. The structural integrity of the building has been shot for years and some drunk civilian decided he was going to have a cigar right next to the bombs and threw his match into the crate, setting off the bomb."

"And that made nearly the entire building collapse." You finished.

"Exactly."

He looked at the space next to your head. It was a horrible miscalculation that nearly cost his crew their lives. He had to do better. This line of work isn't safe and never will be but he had to work harder to eliminate risks as much as-

"Stop." You said, voice suddenly stern. He looked into your eyes, alight with fire. "Don't go down that inane rabbit hole."

"It was a possibility I should have foreseen." He began. "The fact that I didn't shows that I'm falling behind."

"No." You said so simply. You took a deep breath like you were steeling yourself, and then began the painful trek of sitting yourself up.

"Lie back down." He tried to order, hand coming up just inches in front of your chest. You stared at it, then moved your lower body to come below your upper half, effectively sitting up while staying in place. He didn't know whether to be impressed, be annoyed, or chuckle.

"Kaz, you cannot possibly believe that you can foresee every outcome to ever happen."

"Of course not." He agreed, but still felt a little attacked. "But this is one I that I should have. It makes sense."

"Even if you did see it, you cannot control how the building responds- usually!" You shouted the moment he tried to interject. "The blueprints were out of date. There's no way you could have known that the entire thing would collapse."

"I should have double checked the dates. Made sure they were the updated ones."

"And why would you do that?" You pressed on. "When you ask for blueprints as architect, you would automatically assume they would give you the most updated ones. It was a logical assumption."

"I still should have checked." He didn't raise his voice, but it was obvious that he wanted to.

You looked at him, a little shocked, eyes searching for something. He fought everything in him that told him to turn away and walk up those steps. He felt a little bare, and got a grip on his breathing. Sudden understanding spread across your face.

"You know I'm alive, right?" You straightened your back. "I'm here."

He was about to retort, say 'of course I know that. You're sitting right in front of me.' But the reality of the situation truly dawned on him, just like in those frantic moments when he was looking for you, that there was a very good chance that you could have died if Nina didn't arrive back when she did.

This was childish. He gripped the head of his cane. "Of course I do."

You reached your hand out, inches away from his hand. You waited for a sign from him, and grabbed the cuff of his jacket with the pads of your fingers when he gave a subtle nod. The way you moved was slow and deliberate, giving him ample time to pull away. You stopped when his hand was no more than a few inches from your chest and let go.

He kept it there, hovering. Very carefully, you slid his glove off and put it to your side. Your lip was scarred.

"I'm here," you looked him in the eye, "because of you. I'm alive, because of you. Neither I, nor anyone else, expects you to see everything that could be thrown at us. We take the risk everyday when we adorn the Dregs tattoo, and even when we don't." He swallowed the spit in his throat, listening to your voice. "I don't plan to leave you anytime soon, Kaz."

He let your words sink in, feeling the warmth radiating from your chest. The waters lapped at his knees, but that distinctive sick feeling wasn't nearly as bad. You were open, giving him the choice, and he didn't feel pressured to fulfill anything.

He wanted to, he really truly wanted to.

He pulled his hand back, giving a nod. But not today.

"Don't leave." It was both a statement and a request, a plea, even, whispered into the candle lit room.

Silently, you took the glove and passed it to him. "No problem."

With a vulnerable heart and shaking hands, he took the glove and put it on. They didn't feel all that hot anymore.

"Wait here." He said. "I'll get Nina."

You smiled. "Yes, sir." You attempted to salute him, and winced when you moved too quickly. He sighed, a whisper of a smile gracing his lips, and started to make his way up the stairs.

The moment he emerged from the underground, the eyes of his Crows magnetized towards him. It only took them a moment for them to break out in smiles, Nina immediately hopping up and heading down the stairs.

"Told you Y/n would come around soon." Jesper piped up, earning a little shove from Wylan and a shake of the head from Matthias.

Inej stared at Kaz, and he immediately knew he was showing more than he intended. He schooled his expression and walked to the kitchen to prepare himself and you some tea.

The faintest movement alerted him of Inej's presence behind him as he got the cups down.

"It was your eyes." She said, answering a question he didnt ask. A moment of silence passed between them, conversations of little importance invading his space. "I don't think I've ever seen them so bright."

He didn't have it in him to say anything to that. Instead, he gave her a look with relaxed brows and an even more relaxed jaw, hoping that was enough. She smiled before disappearing again, no doubt going to see you.

As he poured the water in a clean pot, checking the temperature is where it needs to be, he leaned against the counter and let out a long sigh, exhaling umtil his lungs begged for air.

So long as you were alive and with him, he would be fine.

And as terrifying as that statement was, it brung him immense comfort.

You wouldn't leave him. Not anytime soon.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Maybe a Cruella/F!Reader where the reader works for the Baroness but one day gets scolded really badly (maybe the Baroness thinks her designs are trash or something) and Estella/Cruella finds her crying in the hallway? And just comfort 🥺✨

AN: Thanks for sending this my way anon! I haven't touched my cruella fic in quite some time so this was really fun to write :)

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: smoking, Baroness being a b*tch as per usual

________

“Really darling, this is just sad.” You spent days on this design, hours and hours of your free time poured into the project, just for the Baroness to glance at it and toss it aside. Your heart dropped to your shoes and you felt your eyes water. 

“Don’t cry now, go run along. I won’t fire you this time.” She waved her hand dismissively, the bracelets on her wrist jingling with each swat of her hand. You did just as she said, turning and briskly walking down the stairs back to the main floor. The drum of sewing machines and the sound of fabric rustling drowned out the first pitiful hiccup, the first warning that you were about to break down. You abandoned your station, stopping only to grab your purse before rushing out the back door to hide in the alley. You sank to the ground, not caring if you dirtied your outfit, it didn’t matter anyway.

You fished through your purse with shaking hands before you found your box of cigarettes and your lighter. You struggled to strike the lighter, the jagged metal hurt your already tender fingers, proof of your hard work. The sound of the side door banging open made you startle, dropping your cigarettes and lighter. You looked up through glassy eyes, Estelle stood, her beret was crooked and she seemed a bit shaken. 

“There you are, dear.” Her heels clicked against the bricks as she strolled over to you, kneeling down in front of you. You swallow thickly as she picked up your scattered cigarettes, pulling one from the case and holding it out to you, right in front of your lips. You had never spoken to her before, but it felt rude to take it from her hands and then put it in your mouth, so you simply parted your lips. She places it between your parted lips and smiles at you, features soft and sure. 

“She’s a witch.” She takes the lighter gently from your hand and you blink at her, a few tears slipping down your heated cheeks. You nod in agreement. She strikes the lighter, the flame leaping out, casting shadows across her face. 

“Do you have a copy of your work?” She asks as she holds the flame to the end of your cigarette, hand cupped around the flame, and subsequently her fingertips brush your wet cheek. 

“I do.” You say shakily after you take your first drag. 

“I’d very much like to see them.” She grins at you, big green eyes captivating you, and you hope that you become friends, more than friends if you’re lucky. 

“They’re at my flat.” You wipe your sleeve across your nose and cheeks, trying to save some dignity. Estelle reaches into her breast pocket and hands you, her fancy handkerchief, your eyes widen at her and you shake your head. 

“I can’t use that, it’s too nice I’d hate to ruin it.” You sniffle fighting back more tears, her kindness was overwhelming at the moment. 

“It’s okay, it’s what it is meant for.” She winks at you, dabbing the tears from your cheeks and you flush, feeling the familiar insects in your belly. 

“Thank you.” You whisper and her hand lingers on your jaw for just a moment too long. 

“I’d love to see your work, really. We could work on the upcoming show together.” You take a drag from your cigarette, your hand shaking slightly with pent-up emotion. She tucks her handkerchief back into her pocket and takes your hand, heaving you back to your feet. You stand toe to toe, close enough to smell the coffee on her breath and you feel the tiniest bit better. 

“I’d love to work with you Estelle, I’m sure you can teach me a thing or two.” You laugh, dropping your unfinished cigarette and stepping on it, grinding it into the brick road. 

“After work then? We can make it a date.” Her hand is in yours as the two of you walk back into the building, and you know that she means it, she doesn’t think your work is trash. She is the prodigy afterall, you relish in the softness of her skin before you reach the door. 

______

As promised, Estelle and you catch the bus back to your flat. You welcome her inside your tiny home, the scent of potted plants and incense, puts you at ease. Your cat rushes to greet you as you kick off your heels. Estelle startles as your grey girl places her delicate paws on your knee, begging to be held. You oblige, scooping her up and turning her to face Estelle, who blinks at your cat. 

“You have a cat.” She states the obvious. 

“Yeah, this is Dior.” You stroke her head, her purring increases as you scratch her chin. 

“Funny.” Estelle kicks her own shoes off and you drop Dior, guiding Estelle into your cramped office down the hall. 

“Here, help yourself. I’ll go put on a pot of tea.” You duck out of the room, rushing to set the kettle on the stove and pull out your finest tea leaves. You can hear her down the hall, rustling through your papers, shifting through your pens and pencils, you wonder if she’s making adjustments. Dior rubs up against your shins, mewing pitifully begging for her supper. 

“Be patient fatty.” You hiss before pouring out the boiling water to steep the leaves, setting up your trey. You balance the cups and the sugar on the tray as you walk down the hall, carefully avoiding stepping on Dior, who is running circles around your feet. 

“These aren’t half bad,” Estelle says when you cross the threshold. 

“You think so?” You sat the tray down with care, dropping a sugar cube into your own cup. Estelle has made herself perfectly comfortable in your chair, hunched over your desk. Her glasses are slipping down the bridge of her nose, red locks of hair falling onto her cheeks. You wanted to brush it back, instead, you busied yourself with the tea. 

“A little rough along the edges, but shows promise.” She turns and pushed the glasses onto her head, giving you the pleasure to view her emerald eyes in full. 

“Uh-huh.” You’re dumbstruck, you know your jaw is loose, and your heart is fluttering. She smiles knowingly, a wry grin. 

“Were you listening to me?” She asks, standing up and placing her hand on the desk near yours, you swallow thickly. 

“Yeah, rough along the edges.” You dutifully recite back to her and she laughs, reaching for the black cup of tea. 

“You’re cute. Here let me show you this…” She goes on to point out your weak areas, and your strong suits, but you’re just so infatuated with her, you know that most of this will go right over your head. Instead of listening to her, you begin rapidly thinking of ways to keep her here, any excuse would do. You got your wish, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the small space, followed closely by a clap of thunder. Dior mewed, brushing against Estelle’s leg, she reached down absentmindedly to stroke her along her spine, pointing out a clash of patterns. 

“Stay.” You interrupt her and she looks up at you wide-eyed. 

“Stay?” She clarifies and you nod. 

“It’s going to storm.” You point out the bay window and she follows your finger, rain is already falling, pattering against the window. Dior jumps up on the bench, her tail swaying as she watches the fat raindrops roll down the glass. 

“If you insist.” You do insist, you want her here, with you. 

“I do.” You smile at her, and she bites her lip. The beginning of a beautiful friendship, with high chance of something more. 

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

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5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

[scummy-writes]

A Helping Hand

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1753

Pairing: Arthur/Mc

Tags: Fingerfucking, Vagina Fingering, Flirting

Full fic under the cut!

Preview:

Admittedly, it took you a moment to take in what he meant, and his chuckle at how quickly you blushed only further flustered you as the heated puffs against the shell of your ear sent a jolt of arousal through you.

“My, someone is thinking dirty thoughts.”

“That’s not- you started it!”

“I don’t mind finishing it,” his tone dipped lower, his hand tracing your side until the pads of his fingers rubbed against the fabric of your skirt, "if you'll let me."

-----

Cleaning the study usually didn’t bring forth any issues. The residents often left you alone as they preoccupied themselves, neither of you paying much attention to the other. Usually the only one to give you any sort of trouble was the resident flirt, Arthur, who took any chance he could to make heat rise to your cheeks.

You knew it was a game of some sorts- how could it not be? Since the night you arrived, the two of you had been dancing around the flirting teases you were both guilty of. Foolishly, you wanted to defend yourself when it was brought up, making flimsy excuses to yourself that it was just playful banter that Arthur had started. But as the weeks turned into months, it was harder to dismiss the other ways he managed to make you blush. Or the way you found yourself jealous of the women he played with so often, or the way managing to make him smile outside of flirting made your stomach flutter…

But today, as Arthur toyed with your hair and almost closed the space between your bodies, you couldn’t dismiss the fluttering feeling as your heartbeat drummed in your ears.

“Arthur…”

“Are you using a new perfume? Why, it smells just like the one I suggested to you the other day.”

You blushed, feeling the back of the couch press against you as you attempted to step back, “i-is it? I didn’t realize…”

“Come now, you don’t have to pretend, you know? In fact, I’d be pleased to know you bought it because of me- my only complaint is that I wished you’d let me buy it.”

“I don’t need any pointless gifts, though.”

“Would a thank you gift for all your hard work be pointless?” Arthur let your hair drop from his nimble fingers, instead tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. An attempt to make you answer, or fluster you further… You weren’t sure which was the real reason.

“Well, at the time you didn’t say it was for a reason like that!”

“I’m aware. In fact I remember it quite clearly. You looked positively radiant that day and I saw it fit to-”

Embarrassed, you pulled his hand away so you could look away from that smug grin of his; but he wasn’t deterred, instead he continued, “I saw it fit to attempt spoiling our lovely housekeeper on her first day out of the dusty old mansion for the first time in weeks.”

“I go out more than that,” you huffed.

“Grocery shopping and chasing after us for forgetting a brolly doesn’t count, luv.”

You crossed your arms, thankful it gave a bit of space between the two of you, as the smell of his cologne was beginning to make you lose your reason.

“Still…”

“You are so delightfully stubborn,” he murmured before perking up again, “there’s always other ways I could show my appreciation though- ways that don’t involve money.”

Admittedly, it took you a moment to take in what he meant, and his chuckle at how quickly you blushed only further flustered you as the heated puffs against the shell of your ear sent a jolt of arousal through you.

“My, someone is thinking dirty thoughts.”

“That’s not- you started it!”

“I don’t mind finishing it,” his tone dipped lower, his hand tracing your side until the pads of his fingers rubbed against the fabric of your skirt, "if you'll let me."

Suppressing any further noise was difficult, as a quiet and aroused gasp tumbled out of your lips before you rushed to cover your mouth. Because it wasn't as if you didn't want to feel Arthur like this, it was just the embarrassment of being so needy with such a flirt felt as though it'd eat you alive before any vampire could. But Arthur caught the slip of pleasure, testing a brief kiss to your cheek.

"Mm, I do so love those sounds of yours," his hand rucked up your skirt, fingers dancing along your inner thigh, "say, let's draw out more, shall we?"

Arthur had you pinned to the back of the couch, but he still didn't push further once you cautiously grasped at his clothes- one hand still grazed your sensitive skin, while the other rested on the couch. The pause let you gather your thoughts, let you think a bit more clearly, yet the first words out of your mouth quickly gave yourself the answer you sought.

"W-what if someone else comes in?"

Arthur didn't miss a beat, pulling back to give you a smirk, "I do spend a fair amount of time in here, dove, I'm certain no one will stumble upon us-"

"B-but-"

"But if they do, you can blame me for anything that comes from it. Besides, I don’t intend to go too far."

You blushed, grip on his vest tightening.

"Then… what do you intend?"

That drew out another low laugh, his head ducking to press slow kisses along your jawline, "to let my favorite bird have a moment to relax, after all your hard work about the place."

"Th-thats it?"

"I'm always willing to provide more if you'd like?"

Mouth opening and closing for a moment, you finally spoke once your thoughts returned, "T-this is fine, f-for now."

Arthur waggled his eyebrows, "for now?"

You turned your head aside, embarrassment overtaking you. But he gently kissed your cheek, sliding the hand between your thighs up.

"I'm just teasing, luv. Now, let yourself relax, and tell me if you want me to stop."

"A-alright…"

With your permission shakily given, your shame ebbed away as he began to trail kisses along your neck, as if each brush of his lips against your skin was a reassurance. At the same time, Arthur stroked your slit through your underwear, letting out a small groan when he found the fabric damp. Your hands instinctively tugged him closer by his vest, resisting the urge to clamp your knees shut. This time he didn't tease you with that silver tongue of his, but you could feel his smile on each kiss.

You weren't sure what exactly he was getting out of this, but you tried to dispel those thoughts. Instead your face buried against his shoulder as his fingers dipped into your panties, quickly sliding over your clit and giving a few gentle swirls.

"My~, look at how wet you are…"

"H-hush…" The scold came out weakly, a groan shuddering out when his fingers began to stroke your sensitive nub in earnest.

He didn’t seem deterred by your retort, instead shifting to tease your entrance briefly before slipping his fingers inside. Eyes fluttering shut, you let this pleasure slowly build up in your abdomen, mentally thanking whatever Gods were out there for giving you the courage to accept Arthur’s offer.

“That’s it… Just like that,” his knee slotted between yours, a shiver running through him when your thigh brushed against his crotch. Momentarily, you could feel just how much this was working him up, but Arthur pushed your focus elsewhere again, nipping at your ear as he continued, “let me hear all of those little gasps, hm?”

The palm of his hand rubbed against your clit as he pumped his middle and ring fingers inside, focusing on the right spot that made you tremble and tighten your grip on his clothes. And thankfully, much of Arthur’s teases didn’t go too far. He just murmured soft praises and encouragements, many of which drowned themselves out as you kept trying to keep ahold of yourself for as long as possible.

It was… Embarrassing, to a certain extent- to get this close to the edge so quickly. But really, how long had it been for you since someone else had pleasured you?

Somewhere along the process you managed to nuzzle into his neck; hiding both your blush and muffling the few louder cries that spilled out as he thrusted harder. In this unplanned position, it was easy to feel the rumble of his chuckle through his chest. You just wished it didn’t send another wave of excitement through you.

“A-Arthur-!” You twisted your fingers in the fabric of his clothes, your body betraying you and rocking against his hand impatiently. In response, he carefully forced you to look up at him, and in the deep blue of his eyes you could see how easily your face betrayed your emotions. His lips quirked into a small smile, then he ran his thumb over your chin.

“I know a much better way of doing that,” Arthur spoke softly against your lips before taking them in his own, luxuriating on your taste once your tongues met. He kept the kisses slow in contrast to how hard his fingers were working your sweet spots, and you felt your legs tremble against your will as the wash of your orgasm overcame your senses.

Arthur quickly used his free hand to keep your head in place, greedily stealing any kisses he could as you gasped between them, still pumping inside of you until your eyes watered. It wasn’t until you blinked a few tears that he finally slowed his hand, kissing the stray salty droplets away. When you struggled as he stepped back to pull his hand out from under your skirts, he eased you to rest fully against him as you caught your breath.

There was some shuffling as Arthur brought out his handkerchief to wipe his hand clean, pouting a little when you denied his offer to help tidy you up, but otherwise he let you linger as much as you wanted. He combed his fingers through your hair as he waited, breaking the silence only after it was clear you were calm.

“While I’m confident not many come into the study, I’m sure if Sebas starts to notice your absence, he might start to search…”

Ah.. Feeling a little dejected, you pulled away. Catching sight of Arthur’s sympathetic gaze earned you a quick peck to the cheek.

“I did rather enjoy myself,” he admitted, helping you resituate your clothes, “I hope you did as well, dove.”

You smiled, indeed feeling a bit bolder knowing that his flirting wasn’t for nothing, “I did… And perhaps it’s giving me a few ideas for a return ‘thank you’ gift as well…”

"Then next time I wouldn't mind slipping under there myself," he gave your skirts a gentle tug, grinning when your cheeks bloomed red and you swatted his shoulder, "have a care, luv! Only if you'd let me!"

----

Arthur may say this is just for her, but I think we all know he's going to remember this fondly on lonely nights.

This has been in my drafts for some time now... I finally sat down today and just powered through and finished it... Second old draft I've done within a month! I hope I can keep this streak going... Thank you all for always being so patient with me qq

Masterlist | Ikevamp Server (18+)

Tag list (Please DM/Send an ask if you’d like to be added/removed): @aeoncryptic @anianakin @atrax-phoneutria​ @shookspearewrites @stehkotori @niintendoqs @otomefoxystar @blu-tigerr @jazzellen @cinnatwisted @buswilligan @tacogawa @kim-stitches @passionatebooklover @rinringo23 @aurora-morning @kimmy-banana

[wasbangtanhome]

late, late, late | KSJ

banner made by bangtanhome! (me)

Summary: Is he late? Yes. Were you mad? Yes. Was it a special day? Yes, yes, yes! You had everything prepared and you just wanted your boyfriend to come home. Now.

Pairing: Office worker!Kim Seokjin x F(Reader) | also kind of dom!Jin

Warning: 18+. Smut in the form of: pwp, provocative dress, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it hehe), oral sex (M receiving), fingering, use of the word "slut", cumming inside, impact play (ass and pussy). also he used the L word.

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's note: Short and sweet to start off my journey here on tumblr!! I hope you enjoy it and to please please let me know about any improvements. I worked really hard on it! Also my first smut fic! Also, also, there are not a lot of pet names ever since I saw the post about what Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin would call their lover. I got super sappy.

From the kitchen window, you have a clear view of the entrance leading to your apartment that you share with your boyfriend. The sun has set and it's well past dinner time but you have yet to see his face walking up the steps, blowing a kiss at your general direction.

You chew the inside of your cheek. He's late, you thought, peering out the window for the nth time while drying the dishes. You can't help but worry. Seokjin usually calls if he picked up an extra shift, but your phone has yet to move.

Today marks a year of the two of you living together. The year hasn't treated you kindly. A while back, your company had some budget cuts. Your department was abolished and unlike the lucky coworkers that were transferred, you were a part of the handful that received severance pay.

You figured going back to work would be easy, especially with your qualifications. However, you have yet to get a call from any of the places you applied to. With you unable to work, you spend your days maintaining the apartment. Your boyfriend, his smile ever present, told you he would just have to take more shifts.

‘You know, ______, housework is really hard to do,’ he remarked. ‘Besides, I make more than enough money to support us both.’

You smiled at your boyfriend then. It was true, there wasn’t really a need for you to go to work. You eased up on your stress over not finding work and dutifully cleaned the apartment.

You trudged your way to the entrance of the apartment. Head resting on the front door before unlocking it with your key. Seokjin was drinking tea by the window sill, looking as ethereal as ever. He noticed you had entered the apartment, smiling lovingly at you.

Before he had a chance to say hello, you broke the news about what happened during work. Instantly, your boyfriend came towards you, his smile faltering as he saw the state you were in. The fatigue in your bones left you slumped on the ground.

Seokjin did not say a word, opted to close and lock the door behind you before sinking to his knees to meet you at eye level.

‘Hey,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

He nudged your shoulder and you fell to his embrace. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You whimper softly as you seize his dress shirt, hot tears falling on his dress shirt, turning the color a shade darker than it was. Your knuckles turned white as your chest rose and fell rapidly, ragged breathing moaning the loss. And yet, your Seokjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hugging you tightly, not saying a word.

‘Sorry,’ you remembered mumbling as the coil in your stomach loosened.

‘Don’t be sorry, _____, there’s no reason for you too,’ he whispered back.

Silence fell before he piped up. ‘What do you call a bike that can’t stand on its own?’ he waggled his eyebrows when you looked at him, confused at what he’s saying. It took you a good moment to know that he was joking.

‘Two-tired!’ he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke. You smiled at your lover and before long, laughed along with him; his joy infecting your sadness.

He took out his handkerchief, wiping the streaks of tears away and giving it to you. At his gesture, you snickered before dissolving once more into tears. He had fretted then, worried that he had done something wrong.

‘I’m so lucky,’ you mumbled in tears. ‘Lucky to have you as my boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.’

He smiled softly at your comment, proceeded to pull you in his lap. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’

‘Easy,’ you sniffled, plastering a smile on your face. ‘We order fried chicken and drink!’

Seokjin had looked at you funny, surprised to hear you crave alcohol. Your smile was infectious and he ruffled your hair to agree. ‘That’s my girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let’s find you an even better paying job, okay?’

He was so enthusiastic, making the tragedy that happened to you that day seem so… trivial. You got drunk that night, your body not used to the alcohol.

You smile softly at the memory that happened after, your boyfriend’s hair stuck to his face, panting heavily as you came all over him. You try to push the memory away, focusing instead on your task at hand, but the damage was done- you're wet.

You chew on your bottom lip, hands traveling lower, touching your folds.

I’ll just start without him.Something nagged at your brain, and as your fingers sought out your clit, you realize how unsatisfying it would be without your boyfriend coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you.

You moan, anticipation and desperation threatening to consume you. Distracting yourself, you went through your mental checklist again. Skimpy apron? Check. Food? It’s cold because it’s been in the fridge, but check. The line that you’ve been practicing for the past few months to win over your boyfriend? Check, check, and check.

You glance again and the parking lot was empty now, its residents taking space in their respective homes. No sign of Seokjin.

You huff, grabbing your phone and pressing the on power roughly, almost causing it to clatter on the ground. Almost. Your screen flickers on and you see an image of him smiling back at you. You stuck your tongue out at his face, and punched a string of numbers you know by heart.

The line rang for a long time. You were about to let it go to voicemail. At the last second, you hear a tired voice answer you.

“Darling?” Seokjin’s voice was gruff and sleepy. You can make a mental image of him running a hand through his hair. He sounded distracted, probably looking at his spreadsheets as the numbers start to blur together.

"Hi," you try cheerfully, clearing your throat, hoping he can’t hear the anticipation across the phone. You cradle the device between your ear and your shoulder before brushing lint from your apron. "Are you coming home soon?"

Seokjin looked at his watch, knowing something was clearly bothering you. Looking at the time, he scrambled to his feet: 19:32.

"Wh-Wha--?" came the stunned response. You hear Seokjin push his chair back and the familiar beep of his computer turning off. You laugh quietly as you hear doors slam and his voice echoing in the staircase.

"Oh, _____, I'm so sorry. I had no idea what time it was," he pants, high on adrenaline trying to get home as soon as possible.

"I'm so sorry, ______. I'll be home soon. You can start eating without me, okay?"

You feel a grin paint your face, relief that he was at work. "I'm okay! You must be hungry, love. Just glad you're finally coming home. I can't wait to see you. Drive safe!" you exclaim hurriedly, knowing he won’t want to call when he’s driving.

He murmured a confirmation and you ended the call. Seokjin may be late but there’s still cause for celebration. Settling the butterflies in your stomach, you open the fridge door to take out the food you had prepared earlier, heating them up.

You finally see a familiar figure run from his parking space. His dress shirt untucked and he stopped for only a moment to blow a kiss towards you. His hair clung to his scalp, his tie was loose, and his eyes shining with adoration. You waved back quickly before seeing him disappear into the building.

Seokjin expected you to be angry, ready to apologize for coming home so late. At the very least, he expected a hug, you seemed happy enough, asking how his day was in the office. What he didn’t expect was you in an apron… wearing nothing else. His eyes roamed your body, stunned at the lack of clothes, briefcase dropping heavily on the floor.

"Are you going to close the door?" he heard you ask.

Never taking his eyes off of you, he closed and locked the door, sliding out of his work shoes. Like a deer caught in headlights, you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you approached him.

You hear him gasp as you get closer, his face incredulous. You pressed your chest towards his, relishing in his ears turning red.

"Now,” you smirk and grab a hold of his tie. “Would you like to start with dinner,"-- you croon as you fling it behind you.

"-a bath,” you say seductively as you open the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt. “-or me?" you finish, dress shirt completely unbuttoned as you watch his delicious figure.

You don't often see your boyfriend at a loss for words. But this... this was something else. Seokjin opened and closed his mouth, blinking rapidly. You hid your smile behind closed lips, enjoying the fact you’re making him squirm.

"What did you make for dinner?" he stammered, forcing a chuckle.

You waved at the table. "The works, japchae, fried chicken, corn, kimchi… You know, our favourites."

"Huh..." he managed, swallowing. Seokjin knew how hungry he was when he left the office, but he couldn't seem to focus on the steaming delicacies on the table. He turned his gaze back to you, slowly closing the distance between your lips.

"Good answer," you murmur.

"Didn't know it was a test," he whispered, dipping his head back down, claiming your soft lips once more.

You smiled into the kiss, content that he was finally home. His hands stopped trembling as it snaked lower. One hand circled your waist, the other trailing soft circles on your back. You shivered at his delicate touch, arching your back into his hand to feel more.

Seokjin seemed to understand your signal and lifted you up, making your way through the living room to reach your bed. Once you landed with a soft plop, he continued the kiss. Heat was rising to his cheeks as he fully shrugged his dress shirt off, returning shortly to connect his lips to yours.

"Jin, I can't see... it's too dark in here," you whined, feeling your skin burn where he touched your body.

You did not receive an immediate response from your beloved, only hearing the thud of a belt on the floor and you hoped his pants came off with it.

"I think it's the perfect amount of light to make you squirm," he whispers. You feel the mattress sink with his weight and the heated kiss resumes, your hands flying to tug at his hair with urgency. You start to feel feverish from the kiss, trying desperately to connect your hips to something so you can feel the first waves of pleasure. You’ve been waiting for such a long time.

He smiles at your impatience and starts tweaking your clothed nipple. "Off..." you whined, wanting the apron gone.

Seokjin slipped the shoulder straps down. You arch your back and he untied the ribbon holding everything together easily. He threw it over his shoulder and finally, his large palms directly touched your tits. He sucked on a nipple while his hands were busy, roaming every inch of your body. You moaned underneath him, thrusting your chest upwards to give him more access.

"Mmm..." you sigh as his hand travelled south and pressed onto your clit.

"You're so wet already," he released your nipple, chuckling darkly. "Have you been waiting all day? Did you want to be fucked that badly?"

You winced at his words. He continued circling your clit, waiting patiently for your answer. "Well?"

"Yes, darling," you pant out. "I have been waiting all day for you! Ah- and you were late," you whined pathetically.

He chuckled again, muttering apologies under his breath while he continues to play with your clit, your nipple back in his mouth. You knew you were going to get a real apology after you're done, but this was enough.

You felt his finger enter your pussy, testing out to see how tight you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he added another finger, eliciting a moan from you.

"Yeah? You like that?" came the breathy response.

Your head spun as he curled his fingers at the sensitive bundle of nerves. His thumb pressed and circled on your clit, his pace getting faster and his thrusts getting deeper.

"Jin, I'm close," you squeak out, squirming at his unrelenting force. Your high was right there, waiting for your undoing. But your boyfriend had other plans and his thrusts stopped completely before you came.

You whined, your hands tugging at his hair dangerously. Frustration swept overr your face as it turned even more crimson than his ears. "J-Jin..." you grumble weakly, catching your breath. Your cunt squeezed at nothing when he removed his fingers completely.

"Wanted to feel you cum on my dick," was his simple response.

In the fog of your pleasure, you weren't aware of his veiny cock rapidly growing harder, tip already leaking precum. You stared, dazed as he pumped his length. You also had other plans when you moved to the floor.

You licked a stripe down from the tip to the base, earning a hiss from your boyfriend. His eyes fluttering shut when you look up, his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth.

You suck lightly at first, taking care that your teeth don't make contact with his sensitive member and begin bobbing to a rhythm. He groaned as you stuffed your mouth with his cock, hands grabbing fistfuls of your hair.

"Ah- ________, ah-, can I move?" he huffed out, unable to form sentences without groans.

You moaned to signal your affirmation and he used your hair as leverage to pull you closer to the base. You struggled and gagged, feeling so fucking full. You whimper as he held you there, his head falling back with a groan.

Seokjin snapped his hips, thrusting deeper into your throat. The sensation made you moan, tears blurring your vision. He picked up the pace when he saw you, loves the view of you struggling with his cock in your mouth.

He loved to ruin you, would never admit that out loud, but seeing his lover whimper and sob because he was too big made him moan. Seokjin was holding your head in place, letting his hips do all the work. You groaned out, the vibrations on his cock almost sent him over the edge.

You knew he was close. In ragged breaths, he was saying how beautiful you were, how well you were taking his cock, how amazing you felt, and all the sweet nothings you often hear. However, when his thrusts turned messy, an indication that he was close, you shifted backwards and his beautiful cock fell out of your mouth.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, careening forward. He held your head in place for balance, not wanting to fall, worried he hurt you somehow. However, he was greeted with a teasing grin. "Payback, love," was all you said smugly.

You knew you shouldn’t have pushed his buttons that way. But you couldn't help it, knowing the wonderful outcome that awaits you.

He growled, anger flaring with every second that passed since you denied his release. "Bed. Now,” he muttered under his breath. You obliged at his command, though you did it slowly, never taking your eyes of him

This side of Seokjin rarely comes out to play. He was always worried he'd hurt you.

‘Yeah, that's the point,’ you snorted, recalling the memory of explaining what you wanted like he was 5.

Even still, this was a welcomed surprise. You made a mental note of how you pushed his buttons that day, hoping to recreate it in future events.

You were about to sit on the bed when you turned around, climbing on all fours instead, excited about what he would do to you.

“That’s not what I asked you to do, slut” he chuckled, waiting for you to get settled. You teased your ass, moving it closer towards his dick before pulling back.

You didn't anticipate the first slap, the sound of his palm hitting your skin filling the room. You moaned, wiggling your ass towards his face, eyes shining bright with lust.

"Ah- you like being spanked, huh?” Seokjin said, scratching his chin. “Who knew you'd this much of a slut."

You moaned at the word, loving when he said such mean things to you. Your knees buckled when the next smack wasn’t on your ass. He clicked his tongue as he watched your juices flow out from having your cunt smacked. Seokjin reached gingerly towards your clit, teasing it to ease the pain.

"Oh?" he said simply before smacking you again, this time back at your ass. He alternated between slapping your ass and your sopping cunt, the uncertainty of where the next pain would land causing you to see stars.

You whimpered and whined underneath him. Fully lying on your stomach, your ass no longer in the air. You held a pillow, moaning into it, praying the neighbors wouldn't complain about the noise. "J-Jin... please fuck me."

"Huh, I didn’t know this one could beg," he chuckled. The thought of him being with another slut left a twinge in your chest, but that jealousy subsided when he slapped you hard this time, snapping your mind from your thoughts. There was some shuffling behind you and you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, Seokjin coating his erection with your juices.

"Shit- it's so slippery..." he said mockingly, "slipping" past your cunt. "I can't seem to get it in."

His teasing left you desperate, clinging so hard on to the pillow that your knuckles started to turn white. And just as you felt the anticipation was too much, Seokjin thrusted into you fully, his girth entering you all at once, not caring that you usually needed time to adjust to his cock.

Seokjin dragged you closer towards him, your legs off the bed. He held your neck down with his arm and thrusted hard into your cunt. Before long, you begged silently as your high approaches, hoping that this time your boyfriend would let you cum.

"Baby, I- I'm close."

"Are you now, sweetheart?" You nodded and whimpered at his question. Your voice was getting higher, moans filling your small bedroom.

And he stopped again.

You buried your face in the pillow to scream. You were so agonizingly close and he denied you just like that. Tears fall out of your eyes now, you hiccup and sob, glaring daggers at him.

Normal Seokjin would've scooped you into his arms, a myriad of apologies would spill from his mouth.

But not this time. Instead, he grabbed your hips with his muscular arms before flipping you over so you lay flat on the bed. His cock went back inside, thrusting slowly while he spun circles on your sensitive folds.

"Please-" You breathe in deep, trying to stabilize your hiccups.

"One more for me?" he asked. His voice low and husky.

You start shaking your head, pleading, no- you couldn’t do it again. You were begging him to let you cum. He continued his shallow thrusts and his attention on your clit. You sigh underneath him, overstimulated beyond belief.

"One more," he insisted and leaned close to your ear. "For one whole year of living together." He nibbled on the shell before moving down to your neck. "Please?" You moan when he sucked on the delicate flesh.

You melted into his embrace and nod. "One more."

Perhaps you should've considered longer. Perhaps it was your lust-addled brain that made you say yes. Perhaps you should not have fallen for his devilish charm. But it’s all too late now as he lay on the bed, and you climbed over him.

"Mmph..." you moan, throwing your head back while you grind your pussy on his cock. You snuck a glance below only to find seeing your boyfriend drowning in pleasure.

You leaned forward and bumped your forehead with his. Seokjin's eyes open gently. He pants quietly as he cups your face, gently stroking it with his thumb. An angelic smile spreads upon his face, love and affection in his eyes. You whined as you continue riding him, trying to chase your own high while helping him with his, picking up the pace.

You were still moving a bit too slowly for his liking so he thrusted his hips to match your movements. It sent shivers down your spine and you moan deliciously.

"Baby, I can't- ah- Jin..." you pant, bouncing and grinding on his cock, just then realizing how close you actually were. You expected the stop, but it didn't make it any easier. Your boyfriend stopped his movements and held your hips firm, causing your body to convulse.

Seokjin sat up quickly, hugging and kissing your face profusely. "You did such a good job, ______." he said, his apologies in the form of kisses. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You were so pretty bouncing on my cock like that."

You sigh and smiled weakly at him, "Can I rest?" you asked meekly.

You hear him genuinely laugh. His friends always said that his laugh sounded like windshield wipers. But to you, it sounded like wind chimes dancing in the summer.

Seokjin grabbed you and laid you down on the bed gently. He turned to his side and stroked your hair. You faced him, a content smile on your face as you also stroke his cheek.

"I love you."

The sudden confession made you halt. You knew Seokjin meant it. However, he does not say I love you very often. He shows his love with physical touch and "have you eaten?" questions that make you feel so happy he cared. But hearing him say he loved you almost made you cry. Almost. You had enough tears for the day.

"I love you too, darling."

You scoot closer to kiss him, tongue asking permission to enter. He groans when they collide. Your spare hand moved down and stroked his softening cock gently but he sprung up instantly.

"I kinda blue-balled you, sorry," you broke the kiss sheepishly. Seokjin just chuckled and continued the kiss, moving on top of you.

“Are you okay for more?” he asked, back to his usual self.

You nodded enthusiastically.

His cock slid in effortlessly, your pussy already wet and stretched out enough to take him in without any discomfort. Pleasure caused your body to groan. You wanted so badly to come.

He held up both your legs and toyed with your clit. He was able to thrust easily into you. He started out slow, making sure that you were actually okay before it turned manic, his cock going in and out of you with such force.

You whined when his thumb pushed harder on your clit, feeling your walls clench at his huge dick.

His cock going deeper and deeper inside you combined with him touching your clit was all it took. You were suddenly right there, at the edge of pleasure before you snap. You yell his name, your voice getting increasingly higher. You look at him with desperate eyes.

"Cum on my cock, ____," he groaned, marveling at how tight you were getting.

He kept the pace and soon, you were moaning his name, your juices creaming his cock. You loved being filled. You were so full as your walls clenched around him.

A few more hard thrusts and he joined you in pleasure. "Ah- _____," he moaned out as your walls were painted white. You winced when you thought Seokjin was going to fall on top of you, though he caught himself at the last second.

He slid out of you with a hiss and ran to get a towel to clean you up. After he was done, the towel was placed in the laundry basket, along with all the clothes that were discarded from the floor. You roll your eyes, knowing how neat your boyfriend was.

He plopped right next to you and you cuddled closer, throwing an arm over his muscled abdomen.

"Hi," he sighed out in bliss, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "Happy one year anniversary of living together, my dear."

His head dipped towards your and you both nuzzle your nose at each other. "Happy one year, Jin."

"So," he started, clearing his throat. "I can tell you liked getting spanked. Push my buttons some more and maybe it'll happen more often," he laughed at his own comment., waggling his eyebrows at your direction.

This time, it was you who were at a loss for words. You shook your head, rolling your eyes before snuggling so close to him. You found the perfect spot on his chest, as always, pulling the blankets towards the both of you.

He removed himself from underneath you and stared seriously into your eyes. "I know I don't say it enough,"-- you smiled as you notice his ears turning red again-- "but I meant what I said. I do, love you, ____." He held your gaze and you found the strength to sit up slightly to kiss him.

"I know, Jin. This was enough. You are enough."

You've never seen him so giddy and he kissed your forehead again, finally settling down.

"Good night, Kim Seokjin. I’ll clean the food in the morning," you say drowsily.

"Don’t worry, let me get it. Good night, soon-to-be Kim _____," he whispered. You heard the comment but you were tired to ask what he meant. In the morning, you thought to yourself. I'll deal with that in the morning.

When you finally slept, soft snores filling the room, Seokjin got up, carefully detangling him from your arms. You protest slightly but rolled over, not waking up. He padded softly to the kitchen to put the food away. Washing his hands, he looked to the bedroom once more to make sure you were indeed asleep, before opening his briefcase.

Inside, there was a small blue box and Seokjin opened it gingerly, fearing the worst. He sighed in relief as the band reflected a light coming from outside, still intact even though he dropped it earlier. He closed the small box and placed it back in his briefcase.

Seokjin came back to the room to find you had gotten up, hands rubbing your eyes. “Where did you go?”

“Bathroom and grabbed a glass of water,” he lied casually, praying that you didn’t see anything, his heart hammering in his chest.

You mumbled something and he sighed in relief, putting on a pair of boxers before snuggling you close, kissing your forehead.

All characters depicted in this fic are 18+ and fictional.

Any resemblance is just a work of fiction.

All rights © bangtanhome.tumblr.com

Posted on 04.13.2021 at 11:11am GMT+7.

[bowandcurtsey]

Hello, could I please requests a platonic(with maybe hints of reader crushing on him) fic where the reader has necromancy magic like Rades, and is similarly hated just for their magic and so they've been put down all their life and turned to a life of crime, but William recruits them into the golden dawn similar to how Yami recruited Zora?

Hello Anony! Thank you for requesting this, it is interesting to heartwarming to write, especially for William! Seeing how all of his members are ever loyal and always put their best foot forward to fight for him, makes me wonder what kind of leader is he behind closed doors?

Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this one!

William x f! Reader

“Come here, you witch!!” The shop keeper shouted at you as he chased you with his grimoire floating, “how dare you steal from my shop!”

Everyone was staring at you with weird eyes and mumbling between themselves.

“Oh is that the orphan girl that performs black magic on people?”

“I heard she was cursed! And her birth caused both her parents to die! She’s a thief??”

You quickly put the hood of the coat over your head and ran as fast as your legs could handle, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes.

You heard all these ill comments all your life, people around you always gave you the look once they knew about your necromancy magic. You were usually used to all these unpleasant treatments, but today, you were feeling a little under the weather and just wanted to get some simple pain killers. You were tired and hungry, yet no one seemed to give you the least bit of sympathy.

You sat on the floor, gasping for air once you made sure that you had lost the shopkeeper. You were in a quiet corner at the end of the streets, your back rested against a wall as you softly sobbed into your knees.

“Here,” a soft voice spoke to you.

You looked up, it was the captain of the Golden Dawn himself, also with a hood over his head, waving a packet of pain killers in front of you.

“S-Sir Vangeance!!” You quickly stood up to bow to him. William Vangeance was widely known for being the ever virtuous captain of the first class Golden Dawn squad, you couldn’t believe your eyes that he was standing right in front of you.

“Shhh…” his eyes quickly darted to his surroundings, “I’m here to check on something, so please keep it down”

“O-oh.. sorry” you whispered

“Do you want some bread and drinks?” He offered a bag to you, “you can’t be eating these on an empty stomach..”

You were about to reject, but your stomach growled in protest.

“Thank you..” you hungrily munched on the sandwich that was offered to you.

“Care to tell me why?" the captain sat beside you.

"... Why..?" your face painted a look of astonishment seeing a Noble and a captain sitting on the dirty street floor.

"Your story, if you don't mind? Since I'm waiting and have time to spare," he smiled the warmest smile to you, a smile that you've never seen anyone give you in your life, "why do you steal..? and why do they say all those.. things about you?"

In that moment, you felt full. Full with this kindness and comfort that nobody ever gave you in your life. Everyone in your life shunned you like the plague once they learnt of your magic and your were infamous in a few villages for "being cursed". But it was the first time someone even sat right by your side, offering you food and drinks. And so you spoke to this "stranger" about your story.

About how you were born with this magic, and that you didn’t want it. And how It wasn't your fault that both your parents died in a car accident shortly after your birth, but you were always blamed for any shortcomings; the orphanage you grew up in, the school you studied in, even the workplace that you tried to work in. How they always blamed you once they knew of your magic and eventually you were thrown out from everywhere and you were left to steal to survive.

William listened to every word patiently and handed you a handkerchief at the end of your story, "here."

You didn't realise you had been crying. But it was a concoction of feelings, you were sad and frustrated at the unfairness of your life but at the same time, feeling relieved at how good it felt to be able to pour your burdens to someone.

You looked at the mysterious man under the mask. Everyone knew him, yet nobody knew what his face looked like. He was like batman, cool and righteous.

"Do you want to join the magic knights?" The golden dawn captain asked after a brief moment of silence.

You couldn't believe your ears, "h-huh?! Me?"

William chuckled a little at your reaction, "Yes, you. I'm sure your magic could be put to good use within the magic knights."

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

You stood in front of your room. You've never really had a room of your own in your life. A tingly sensation pricked at your nose as the feelings overwhelmed you.

The next few weeks, you were diligently training your magic and helping out with whatever chores that you could at the golden dawn. Thankfully, your team members were more or less welcoming of you, despite you being from a beggarly background. They helped you learn and study, brought you along for meal times and trained together with you.

You could tell they all have faith in their captain and trusted whoever their captain chose to be in the team. You were more than proud to be in the golden dawn and made it your life motto to uphold the name of the Golden Dawn and William Vangeance.

William regularly checked up on you, and even had small meetings with you and how you could use your powers to help the citizens of the Clover kingdom.

Working with William never failed to awe you. The way he was always calm and spontaneous, how he cared about every single one of his members, yet still manage to uphold the prestigious name of the Golden Dawn with outstanding results all the time. It made you understand why he was so widely respected as a person. The rumours you always heard about him were all true, he is a splendid person all in all.

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

After the first month, William handed you your very first paycheck. You looked at him, all blurry eyed with a sniffle or two as you mumbled your thanks to him.

He chuckled and handed you the same handkerchief that he loaned to you a month ago.

"Captain Vangeance..." you asked softly, "May I ask you something?"

"Yes of course, y/n, what is it?" His purple orbs with the same warmth that never failed to send a few butterflies flying in your insides.

"Why..?" you asked hesitantly, "why did you pick me into your squad where it's filled with all the Nobles and royals?"

"Well first of all, my squad is not only for Nobles and Royals, Yuno is a great example." he smiled, "also during my time as an undercover in Yvon, the villagers mentioned to me about a cursed orphan girl. I actually saw you a few times before we met. As I said, I was checking up on some people so I happened to see you roaming around the streets, stealing."

"why didn't you report me..?" you lowered your head, shameful of your thieving pasts.

"Because I saw you steal food and share food with other homeless people." your captain looked at you with affirmation, "that's when I knew you'll be a great magic knight and an asset to my team."

You stared back at William, you never knew that he had kept his tabs on you for some time before eventually approaching you.

"Also," he removed his mask, revealing his scarred face. You couldn't help but stare a little, "also I know what it feels like to be outcasted because of something you could never control to begin with. I was thought to be cursed too."

Instantaneously, your respect for him intensified. Someone with similar fate as you, is the captain of the Golden Dawn? Someone that could understand you, is the William Vangeance himself? You couldn't really believe it but your chest had a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

You gave him a salute, the tears rolling down your cheeks, "Captain, I pledge my life to you."

-end-

I.... hope this was okay!!! I'm not rly sure if this was the vibes you were looking for Anony!!

[marauders-venting]

It Can’t Be

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: angst

warnings: lots of mentions of death and a funeral, grief and mourning

words: 1906

a/n: this fic is an au in which Sirius has a trial. He is found innocent and Peter is arrested. the fic is set after the trial has ended

Sirius stood, his hands clenched so tight on the handle of Harry’s stroller that his knuckles were white. It had been a good idea to bring the stroller because there was no way he could’ve carried Harry in his arms right now. His whole body was shaking. It had only been a few days since Lily and James had died but so much had happened since then. Sirius had been to Azkaban and had a trial, Peter had been arrested, Remus had disappeared and suddenly Sirius was Harry’s legal guardian. With everything that had happened, Sirius hadn’t even had time to process it, let alone accept it. In his mind, Lily and James Potter could not be dead. They just couldn’t. But evidently, they were because Sirius was attending their funeral at the moment. They were because any minute he would have to give his eulogy. Sirius wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it but he had to. He owed it to Lily and James.

So when the minister called Sirius up to speak, he rolled Harry’s stroller over to the front of the room and faced everybody. Sirius looked around at the people in the room; their expressions were passive. These people don’t care about Lily and James, Sirius thought. No, all they care about is that Voldemort is gone. The only person other than himself who looked even remotely sad was Professor McGonagall, who was sitting in the back of the room, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. And… Remus! He’s here. Remus is here. Well of course he’s here you idiot, he arranged the funeral, said a voice in his head, he set this up for Lily and James while you were moping in a prison cell. Sirius needed the voice to shut up. He didn’t have time for this now. He wanted to honour Lily and James properly. So he took a deep breath and spoke.

“James Potter was my best friend,” he said, ignoring the ache in his chest and the tears pricking his eyes. “He was my brother. Never have I known a person so full of kindness and love for other people and so willing to share it.” It was only ever with him that I felt truly safe. And now he’s gone. Sirius couldn’t say it. He swallowed hard and went on. “And Lily…” even just saying her name hurt, “Lily lit up every room she walked into.” There was more but Sirius couldn’t speak. Tears were streaming down his face. He skipped to the last few lines, the part he was determined to say before he collapsed. “She got f-far less time than she should have. They both did. If I could trade my life for theirs I would. James and Lily… they deserved the world—” Sirius choked. And I was going to give it to them. It was my job. And I failed. That was it. Sirius had written more but he couldn’t go on. “Thank you.” He walked back to his seat and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t care that these people were seeing him cry. He had failed. The least he could have done was properly eulogise Lily and James but he’d fucked that up too.

“Pa’foot?” came Harry’s voice. Sirius wiped his tears away and looked up.

“Yes, Harry?” he said quietly.

“Pa’foot sad,” Harry said.

“Nah, I’m not sad, Prongslet,” Sirius said, feeling a sharp stab of pain at the nickname. Prongslet. Little Prongs. Prongs’ kid. James’ kid. But James was gone. And Harry… Harry didn’t even seem to know that. “Come on,” Sirius said, picking Harry up out of the stroller and sitting him down on his lap. “Uncle Moony’s going to speak now so we need to be quiet.” Remus stood at the front of the room, about to give his eulogy.

“Moo’ee!” Harry called, waving at Remus. Remus gave Harry a small smile and wave, pointedly avoiding Sirius’ eyes.

“Shh,” Sirius whispered to Harry. “We need to be quiet, Harry.”

“Shh,” Harry repeated, putting a finger on his lips and looking from Sirius to Remus and then laying his head down on Sirius’ chest. Remus’ eyes flickered towards Harry and Sirius saw him bite his lip before starting.

“Lily and James were the kindest, most accepting people I have ever met,” Remus said, his voice shaking slightly. “They both had a knack for knowing when someone was upset and what exactly that person needed to feel better. And they would both do just about anything to help their friends. Knowing Lily and James and being their friend was an honour and a privilege. And I will never forget the kindness they showed me and the help they gave me.” Remus fell silent and for a moment Sirius thought he had finished but Remus closed his eyes for a moment and then continued.

“Often when people die young, we tend to say that they had just enough time or that they were so happy in their short time that their lives were fulfilled. And while Lily and James were certainly the two happiest people I have known, I refuse to stand here and say that it was just enough time or that it’s ok because they were so happy. It’s not ok and it wasn’t enough. Lily and James deserved more time than every person in this room combined; I’m just sorry that after everything they did for me, I couldn’t give that to them. Thank you.” Sirius thought that Remus’ eyes had met his for just a second. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d just imagined it.

There were tears on Remus’ cheeks and his hands were shaking but he returned to his seat, keeping his eyes on the floor. The minister said a number of prayers but Sirius’ mind kept fading in and out of focus. Lily and James are dead. But how can they be dead? They can’t. But they are. They’re dead.

When the funeral ended Sirius stood and started following the crowd of people heading for the exit but having a stroller meant that he had to wait for most people to leave before there was enough room for him and Harry to move. They were almost out of Godric’s Hollow when Sirius heard a voice coming from behind him.

“It’s your birthday today.” Sirius spun towards the voice. It was Remus.

“W-what?” he stuttered.

“It’s your birthday today,” Remus repeated.

“No, it’s n—” Sirius started. He thought for a moment. The 2nd of November. That’s today. “Oh, it… it is. I didn’t realise.” Silence. Sirius didn’t know what to say.

“I think we need to talk,” Remus said, quietly.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “I think we do.” He couldn’t discern Remus’ tone but his heart was racing a million miles an hour as they walked back to their apartment in silence, allowing Harry to fall asleep in the stroller. No one said a word until they were back in their apartment.

“I’ll just put Harry down for a nap and then…” Sirius trailed off.

“And then we’ll talk,” Remus nodded, sitting down on the couch. Sirius pushed the stroller into Harry’s room, deciding it was better to let him sleep in the stroller than to risk waking him by moving him into his crib. Sirius closed the door quietly and returned to the living room, sitting down on the couch beside Remus. They were silent for a moment.

“So are you going to tell me why you hid that fact that you were changing Secret Keepers from me?” Here we go, Sirius thought. He knew he would have to have this discussion with Remus the moment his trial ended but he couldn’t look Remus in the eye. Sirius didn’t know if he was more consumed by grief or guilt. He forced himself to look up at Remus. He tried to put so many unsaid things into that look. Remus’ eyes widened with realisation and Sirius nodded.

“Remus,” he said, he wanted to reach out and hold his hand but did not think that the gesture would be kindly received. “I am so, so sor—”

“Don’t,” Remus said. He sounded angry and hurt. “You can’t just apologise for something… for something like this.”

“I know,” Sirius said, softly. He was so ashamed.

“No, you don’t know,” Remus said. “I trust you with every fibre of my being, Sirius. I’d trust you with my life! When you sent me that message telling me what Peter had done I believed you. There was loads of evidence against you but I didn’t suspect you even for a second! And you think that I would sell Lily and James to Voldemort based on nothing?”

“Remus, I was wrong,” said Sirius. “There’s no justification; I made a mistake and now everybody I love is suffering the consequences. But you were gone on missions for days at a time, you’d come back and you would barely talk to me. You wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I didn’t tell you anything because Dumbledore had sworn me to secrecy! You knew that!”

“I know but Remus I was worried. I knew that you were spending a lot of time with werewolves who were rallying behind Voldemort and I was worried that they’d gotten to your head. And I tried to talk to you but you were shutting me out and I—”

“Don’t try to turn this on me!” said Remus. He was shaking. Tears were spilling from his eyes. “This is not my fault!”

“Of course it’s not,” said Sirius. He was crying too. “Of course it’s not but Remus, just try to understand where I’m coming from. I was terrified. I was terrified for James and Lily and Harry and I just—”

“I was terrified too! You know what? This was a bad idea. I think I should just go.” He stood up and walked to the door.

“No, Remus don’t! Don’t leave, please. You can’t go!”

“You… you have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do, Sirius!” Remus said. “You don’t get a say in what I do!”

“Remus please don’t go, please Rem I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice was weak and clingy and pathetic; he didn’t care. He took Remus’ hand and Remus froze. Sirius stepped closer.

“I can’t be without you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing Remus’ cheek. Remus wasn’t looking him in the eyes but he wasn’t moving either. “I love you, Remus.” Sirius leaned in towards Remus and kissed him. And for a moment, he feels Remus kiss him back and in that moment Sirius really believes that everything will be ok, that everything will work itself out. But then Remus pulls away and steps back.

“Don’t! Don’t Sirius, just fucking stop! You can’t just kiss me and expect it to fix everything. You don’t get to do this!” Remus yells. “You don’t get to cry! You don’t get to guilt trip me! You don’t... you don’t get to say that you love me! You can’t fucking do that! It’s not fucking fair! Just... I need... I have to go,” he finishes quietly. “I need to get out of here. Goodbye Sirius.” Sirius watches him go. He watches him walk out the door and Disapparate. First Lily and James, then Peter and now Remus. They’re all gone. And they’re not coming back. And just like that, Sirius’ entire world collapses.

[rufousnmacska]

Only You

A Manorian arranged marriage fic requested by an anon.

Huge thanks to @itach-i for her help and advice with plot and beta reading! ❤️

Previously, in Part One

Previously, in Part Two

*

PART THREE

*

Manon jumped at the knock on her door. She’d sat up all night watching the fire slowly die, unable to sleep. Stiff from sitting in a chair in a cold room for so many hours, she moved slowly to the door. Expecting Glennis, she was surprised to find Yrene waiting to come in. The healer’s smile disappeared when she got a good look at Manon.

“I’m sure I look how I feel,” Manon said by way of greeting. She turned and went back to her chair.

Shivering, Yrene tried to get the fire going again, adding some kindling and blowing on the few stubborn embers that remained in the fireplace. The flames caught, but it would be a while before any heat radiated from it. She sat opposite Manon, watching her carefully.

“Just say it,” Manon said.

“Say what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

She’d come to consider Yrene a good friend over the last two years. The woman was kind and an exceptionally talented healer, helping Manon overcome some of the darkest moments of her grief. Yrene also helped her navigate her way through the complexities of her relationship with Dorian, giving her advice and translating some of the human customs she didn’t understand. Like exchanging gifts. Manon had never given or received a birthday gift before. Yrene not only helped her find one for Dorian, she listened without judgment as Manon explained how foreign the concept was to her. The idea for the memory book had come to her after imagining what Yrene might get if Dorian and Manon were marrying.

Yrene sighed, resting her head back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’ve never seen this room before,” she said, absentmindedly. “It’s quite lovely.”

Manon glanced up. The ceiling was painted like the sky at twilight. A deep, rich blue turning black with stars scattered across it. It was beautiful, and it reminded her of those frozen nights she and Dorian and the Thirteen spent camped in the Fangs in search of the Crochans. She recognized a constellation or two and realized it was likely the same night sky. She didn’t think there was enough time for him to have commissioned the mural between her accepting the invitation and now. But she’d learned long ago that it was foolish to underestimate Dorian’s love of grand romantic gestures. Whether it had been completed for this visit or not, the intention was the same. She leaned back to examine the stars, smiling slightly as memories came rushing back – Asterin teasing Dorian about his pretty blue eyes, Vesta’s shameless flirting that often came dangerously close to provoking Manon’s jealousy, Sorrel gifting Dorian an Ironteeth blade that he still carried, Ghislaine getting caught up in talking about books with him. They’d only traveled together for a couple of short months. And yet despite the hardships, there was so much good to remember. It made her think of the memory book, and how much she wished to be sharing it with him as his wife.

“Josie asked for you the other day,” Yrene said, drawing Manon’s attention back down from the ceiling.

“She said my name?” Yrene and Chaol’s daughter had just begun forming complex words the last time Manon had seen her.

“Well,” she said with a shrug, ���it was close enough that we knew who she meant. She mixed up the words a wee bit, so it came out Ma Nauntie instead of Auntie Manon. She’d seen one of Adarlan’s wyverns flying over the castle and thought it was Abraxos.” Yrene was grinning at the memory. “I’m afraid she butchered his name. But we’ve got her trying Brax for short.”

Manon was returning Yrene’s smile, but she didn’t know what to say. For as fond as she’d grown of Yrene, she’d come to care for Josie just as much. Would she ever see them again after today?

As if reading her mind, Yrene said, “I know it might be hard for you. To come here again. So I was thinking, maybe someday we can visit you?” Tears spilled from Yrene’s eyes and she pulled out a handkerchief.

“Of course! You can come back with me tonight if you wish,” Manon said, stretching out a hand. Sometimes it still felt strange for her to offer comfort to others. But it was something Yrene knew about her, something she never called attention to. And now, the healer leaned forward to take Manon’s hand in hers.

Yrene tried to smile but it just made her cry harder. She stood and walked away, taking a moment to blow her nose and dry her eyes. When she returned, she said, “Please don’t marry that fae prick. He’s not good enough for you. And I don’t trust him.”

Manon laughed, part of her shocked at the possibility, the other shocked at hearing Yrene swear. “No need to worry about that,” she said, further amused by Yrene’s exaggerated relief. “I no longer have plans to marry anyone. A consort isn’t required either. So, when the time is right, I shall only be in need of a … What was that word you so eloquently used just now? I will only need a prick.”

Yrene’s cheeks reddened as she laughed. “Is it not the best word for him?”

Manon grew serious, thinking about her evening with Fennick. He’d been too flirtatious and self-absorbed, and a bit rude towards the others at the table with them. But based on her experiences with fae males, Fennick’s behavior was typical, with Rowan being the exception. Yes, he was arrogant, but he’d also expressed sympathy for the Thirteen, and shared his past heartbreak with her. She knew what Dorian thought of the prince and wasn’t surprised that Yrene would also dislike him.

“Why don’t you trust him?” Manon asked.

Yrene sighed and bit her lip as she searched for an answer. “It’s mostly a gut feeling. He barely addressed Dorian. And him telling us about coming here to find a mate didn’t endear him to anyone. Even Eveline thought he was an ass.” At Manon’s expression, she offered an apology for mentioning the young woman.

“No, don’t worry about that. I’m more interested in what you said about Fennick. He came here looking for a mate?”

“That’s what he said. Some tale or superstition of his grandmother’s claiming fae would find their mate at a wedding. It sounded made up. And when Eveline told him there were no other fae invited, he said he could have a bond with a human or witch.” Yrene shot her a wicked grin. “Dorian wanted to hit him, I could tell.”

Her own lips twitched upward at the thought. But her mind shifted quickly back to Fennick. She’d known of his intentions from the letter. But why antagonize Dorian? Yes, the male was conceited, but he hadn’t struck her as stupid. Yrene was watching her expectantly, but Manon just said, “Well, regardless, you don’t have to worry about him. I don’t intend to see him after today.”

“Thank the gods,” Yrene said, apparently letting the subject go.

Manon knew Yrene had an extra sense about people. Whether it was her healing magic or just her ability to read others, Manon didn’t know. But she trusted Yrene’s opinion and knew it wasn’t clouded by jealousy like Dorian’s. Yrene’s relief set off warning bells. Manon needed to think, and she welcomed the distraction it offered as she waited for the ceremony later today.

“Where is Josie now?” she asked.

“With Chaol. Actually, I should be getting back.”

“Do we have time for an early lunch before the ceremony? You could bring her up here.”

Yrene beamed at the offer, promising to return with her child in a few hours.

After the healer left, Manon bathed and dressed. She sent her guards off on separate errands, giving them the names of castle staff who might know the gossip that was most difficult to come by. Then she set out on her own search for information, something she should have done sooner.

***

Dorian heard shouting from the main stable and poked his head through the door. The head groom was sending stable hands off in every direction, calling out reminders about the diets of certain horses. She saw Dorian and walked over to greet him.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. One of my lead grooms didn’t show up for work this morning and we’re scrambling to get the horses fed.” The woman grabbed hold of a young boy and turned him around. “Other way, lad. And be careful. That horse bites.”

Dorian smiled. “Don’t mind me. I’m just headed for the wyvern paddock. Have they been fed yet?”

Only half listening, she nodded, then turned back to the chaos surrounding her. “Last time I give so much responsibility to one person,” she muttered.

Continuing around the main stable and towards the far end of the yard, he saw a figure standing by the building that housed the wyverns and stopped. But it was only Glennis. The white hair had fooled him for a split second. She was feeding a small, bluish gray wyvern.

“I thought you’d never give up your broom,” he said, holding out his hand towards Abraxos. The little wyvern snuffled against his palm and Dorian rubbed his snout.

Glennis waved a hand, feigning irritation at her new mode of transport. “Neither did I until this little trouble-maker hatched out of an egg.” She tossed a chunk of meat to her wyvern, then moved on to the next one. Apparently Abraxos had already received his breakfast. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” Glennis said, “the wyverns are more comfortable to ride. Especially for old witches like me.”

Dorian laughed, giving her his best smile. “Who are you kidding? You’re still young.” She snorted and waved him off again. As she fed the other wyverns, he turned back to Abraxos.

Fearing this would be his last chance to see the wyvern and hoping no one else would be here, he’d gotten up early to visit. Not that he’d actually slept. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a full night’s sleep. “Hey, Brax,” he cooed, stepping through the gate into the stall. The wyvern curled his long, barbed tail around Dorian’s feet as he continued petting his snout. Dorian pulled a small bouquet of flowers from his cloak and laughed as a low, contented sound rumbled from Abraxos’s chest.

“He’s not like that with just anyone.” Glennis was standing behind them. “Flowers or no flowers.”

“I know,” Dorian said.

“She’d be mad to see you spoiling him so much.”

He huffed a laugh. “I know.” But he didn’t stop.

Glennis knew why he was here and went back to spoil her own wyvern, giving him privacy.

After a while, Dorian inhaled, long and ragged, his breath pooling in the morning chill when he released it. Abraxos watched him, seeming to know this was a goodbye. The wyvern let out a sad whine and Dorian tipped his head forward to rest against Abraxos. “You take good care of her for me, Brax. All right?”

Abraxos huffed in agreement, enshrouding Dorian in a cloud of hot air. The pungent smell gave Dorian the perfect excuse for the tears that had gathered in his eyes as he said goodbye to the little scarred wyvern.

Glennis was not so easily fooled. She knew the reason for the shimmer in his eyes, but said nothing as they started back to the castle together. The main stable appeared to be under control and Dorian waved to the head groom as they passed.

“You were married to a Crochan prince,” Dorian said, breaking their silence as they climbed a hill. “Was it arranged, or did you choose each other?”

For all her talk of old age, Glennis didn’t struggle with the incline. “A bit of both. We’d known each other forever, and our parents had thought it was a good match. There was never any formal agreement but they encouraged us. It was a bond forged of love.”

“So, you were mates then?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling her cloak up around her neck as they reached the top and were exposed to the wind. “But witches don’t have mating bonds like the fae.” She stopped walking to think. “It’s not a tether, not a physical thing like it is to the fae. There’s no silent communication, no feral territoriality. It’s just a stronger connection than a normal relationship. Why are you asking?”

Dorian tried to shrug it off. “Just curious.” They started walking again and he moved so he might block the worst of the wind from reaching her. “Then it has nothing to do with witches having fae blood? I mean, Manon must have more than the average witch since she comes from a lineage without much human involvement.”

Glennis frowned. “Hmmm, maybe. I’d never really thought of it like that. Our fae blood is so diluted, I’m not sure that it really makes a difference.” She stopped, and by her sad eyes, he knew he’d failed to fool her again. “You think Manon is your mate.”

He wanted to say yes. How else to explain the depth of his feelings for her? That constant tug in his chest. Light as it may be, it still connected him to her. Perhaps it was the fae blood in her, making a mating bond between them stronger than with other witches. But then, wouldn’t that also make it more possible for her to be Fennick’s mate? No, he wouldn’t allow himself to go down that path. Not after a long night of fighting the worst his imagination could come up with.

Maybe what he had with Manon was just love. A strong love of two people who completed each other, filled in the pieces that were missing and held the other up when darkness set in. That would be enough, Dorian knew. He didn’t need a mating bond to love her.

Glennis was still waiting for his reply. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I don’t think it matters.” He’d meant the words differently than she took them. But when sorrow crept across her face, so deep it made his chest ache, he knew what she was thinking.

“No,” she said. “After today, I don’t think it will either.”

*****

Manon sat rigid, her eyes facing forward, ignoring all the stares and words whispered in her direction. She and Glennis had blessedly been ushered to a spot with only two available seats, ensuring Fennick could not sit next to her. Giselle and Lara were positioned nearby, but out of the way of other guests. Hearing Fennick’s voice as he took his seat a couple of rows behind them, Manon exchanged a look with Glennis.

After her lunch with Yrene and while they readied themselves for the ceremony, Manon and her guards had discussed what little they could find out about the prince. The two witches gathered minimal gossip from the castle workers. The prince had brought no attendants or valets of his own, and he’d made a show of turning down the head steward’s offer to provide him one. It wasn’t unusual for a noble to eschew servants, even for a long and important trip such as this. But it felt off given his formality and haughty nature. Of course, it kept him out of the streams of gossip among the staff.

Manon had gone herself to the royal library, hoping to find some information on Fennick’s lineage. The Whitethorn clan was old and spread out in the fae lands across the sea. And with his age, she thought perhaps he’d been mentioned in a genealogy or even history book. But the librarian had been unable to find anything substantial. The only occurrence of his name was in a recent book about the fae that included trees of the older families. Fennick was indeed a second cousin to Rowan and Sellene, stemming from a side of the family that Maeve had passed over when it came to titles and lands. How he’d risen to prince so quickly, she didn’t know. Sellene, ever practical and shrewd, had not seemed the type to toss out prestigious titles to just anyone. Nor was she the type, Manon realized, who would send an extravagant gift in an attempt to brag about her kingdom’s wealth.

They’d found nothing, and what little she did know made no sense. And yet, it left her unsettled. Glennis too. But, like the others, her grandmother had hated him from the start. In her mind, Manon had already dismissed him as a possible consort or provider of an heir. Yet she was still more ambivalent about Fennick’s flaws than Glennis and Yrene. His story about the human woman he’d almost given up his immortality for had touched a very raw nerve and stuck with her. Whether it was the faint similarities to her own situation, or just that she pitied him, she was unsure. Perhaps Yrene was wrong. And Glennis.

That was what unsettled her the most. It seemed impossible that both of them would misjudge the male. If only she weren’t here for Dorian’s wedding. Everything from her wits to her instincts were off kilter because of it, and she didn’t trust herself. Then again, if not for this wedding, she’d never have met Fennick and wouldn’t need to concern herself with him. The one good thing to come of it was the distraction it had provided her today.

There was movement at the front of the large chapel and Manon used every ounce of control to keep her face calm as Dorian and Chaol walked out towards the podium behind which the priest stood. Dressed in an azure jacket that brought out the brilliance of his eyes, he looked even more handsome than he had last night at dinner. Damaris hung from his side, and with his crown, he looked like a warrior king of old. This was it then, she thought, praying uselessly for more distractions or delays. Anything to keep her from having to watch Dorian pledge himself to another.

When he and Chaol took their places, the strings began to play a soft, beautiful melody. She couldn’t help herself and looked right at Dorian. He was, of course, staring at her. And for that moment, she pretended that she was walking to meet him. That she would be taking him as her king, becoming his queen, instead of Eveline. The hint of a smile caught his lips and she suspected, hoped, that he was imagining the same thing.

It wasn’t until Chaol lightly touched Dorian’s arm, drawing a frown in response, that she noticed the music had started over. She turned to Glennis and saw confusion, which was mirrored on the others in the crowd. Her grandmother stretched around to look back at the front entrance where the bride should have been standing.

“Maybe she has cold feet,” someone muttered.

In the first row, Lord Frey was turning red with rage. And right before he could jump up to go find his daughter and likely drag her down the aisle, Yrene came running in with a note in her hand.

***

Dorian hadn’t noticed anything. He’d been too busy looking at Manon. She was seated, so he couldn’t see the entire thing, but this dress rivaled the one she’d worn last night. A silvery gray color that matched the shimmering wings of her wyvern, the dress had a neckline that stretched across her collar bones, from shoulder to shoulder. Hanging down over her chest was a single red ruby, large enough to fit within the eye in the pommel of his sword. Her hair was braided into a crown atop her head. Despite their fight, despite everything, he smiled at her, unable to tear his gaze away. Unable to keep from wishing it was her walking towards him today.

Until Chaol tapped his arm and brought him back to reality. Where the musicians were fumbling to begin the processional again. Where Lord Frey was staring daggers at him for admiring Manon. Where Yrene was walking up the aisle instead of Eveline. He hadn’t even noticed Yrene wasn’t seated before them.

Trying to keep her voice low, she handed Dorian the letter she carried and said, “She’s gone. This was all she left.”

With so many eager ears and the heightened acoustics of the building, everyone heard her. Immediately, the chapel was in an uproar. Some guests were shocked, upset to see their king abandoned at the altar. Others were watching the scene unfold with glee, anxious for the tales they could tell afterwards. The priest stood with his mouth agape. Lord Frey was reaching for the letter, sputtering curses and pushing back the lords who’d allied with him. They were gathered around him, clamoring for an explanation. Manon and Glennis both stared wide-eyed at him, unsure how to react.

Dorian spun away from Lord Frey’s grasp and began to read.

Your Majesty,

Please forgive me for the lateness of this wedding gift. I had hoped to have it weeks ago, but my father is a paranoid man with many hideaways, and my efforts were delayed.

My father is not what he seems. He lost most of his gold during the war and has been pretending to be wealthy ever since. He fears nothing more than losing his title and being relegated to a life of poverty. His complaints to his neighbors about your rule were nothing more than talk. Is wasn’t until he was approached from afar that the talk turned into real threats of rebellion.

I was aware that someone was pushing my father down this path, offering to pay a rich reward for his work, but I didn’t know who until just an hour ago. A friend was finally able to procure some messages sent from the foreign party to my father as proof of their plan. They have been placed in your valet’s safe keeping. Ruben was always kind to me, and I believe him to be a trustworthy attendant to you.

I am sure you are curious about who is funding my father’s play at rebellion. I must confess I was shocked and confused to learn that Prince Fennick is behind the plot.

According to the messages, the prince had heard of my father’s money woes and came to him with a plan. My father was to stir up trouble among your nobles then offer up my hand in marriage as the only way to appease him and prevent a war.

I cannot be sure of the prince’s motives, but I suspect he has had his eye on your beloved witch queen for some time. I trust you will be able to get the details out of him.

I must also ask your forgiveness for my dreadful conduct in leaving you like this. The truth is, I am in love with a man named Costis, a groom in your stables. We had planned to run away, but my father pulled me unwillingly into his scheme before we could manage it. Costis was able to acquire the letters just this morning. As I have been freed from my father, we are now off to live our own lives.

I said above that this is my wedding gift to you. Of course, as we are no longer getting married, I do not give it to you as a wife to her husband. Instead, I offer this to my King, who is also now free to be with the witch he loves.

With hope for a long and happy life with your queen,

Eveline

 Dorian wasn’t sure if he was breathing. He rubbed at his eyes, skimmed over the message again and again, making sure it was real and not some figment of his overwrought imagination. Passing it to Chaol, he ordered him to arrest Frey. And then he found Manon in the crowd and ran to her.

Her face held a million questions, but there was no time. They’d waited long enough. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. After a second’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. He thought he heard someone yelling but it faded away, just like everything else around them.

The world, his world, was here in his arms. That’s all that mattered.

When they broke apart, the chapel had quieted down. Manon opened her eyes slowly, as if coming out of a trance. “Marry me, witchling,” Dorian said, letting his wild grin take over his face. “Not today. I want our friends with us. But please, will you marry me? Be my queen? The only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Manon began to laugh, and the sound of her joy was like a balm to his heart, repairing all the cracks and pieces that had broken off in the past months.

“Please,” he repeated. “If you want me to beg, I will.”

She laughed again before cupping his face in her hands and nodding. “Yes. I will marry you, princeling.”

Some of the guests began cheering, others were still reeling by the turn of events. Chaol and Yrene were next to them, hugging Glennis.

Dorian turned to see Lord Frey in shackles, being hauled off by the royal guard. A glance to Chaol told him they still had one other person to deal with. Signaling to his remaining guard and Manon’s sentinels, he walked to where Fennick still stood, an expression of deepest insult on the prince’s face.

“Fennick Whitethorn, you are under arrest for plotting to overthrow Adarlan,” Dorian said. Manon looked between him and Fennick, speechless with shock.

The male was stricken with outrage. “What? What the hell are you talking about? When I return to Doranelle, this will not be forgotten! Sellene will not stand for this!”

“I suspect Queen Sellene is not aware of what you’ve been up to,” Dorian countered, noticing Ruben enter the chapel. His valet waved a stack of papers for Dorian to see. Dorian nodded and motioned for Chaol to fetch them. To Manon, he explained, “Eveline found proof that our good friend Fennick was paying Lord Frey to carry out this sham. He wanted me out of the way to pursue you.”

Manon’s eyes narrowed and he saw the anger and embarrassment rise in her like a flood. It was a level of rage he’d never seen on her before. And hoped to never see again.

She turned and glared up at Fennick. He immediately began accusing Eveline and Lord Frey of lying, accusing Dorian of making it up to escape the wedding. But she said nothing, just watched him grow more pathetic as he spouted increasingly ridiculous excuses. When he had nothing left to say, Manon cocked her arm and punched him in the face, sending him shuffling back and twirling around before he thudded to the floor, unconscious. Her witches picked him up and dragged him out, following the royal guard to the dungeon.

*****

After an abbreviated un-wedding dinner, Manon walked with Dorian to the top of the king’s tower, past her guest rooms to the suite she would now be sharing with him. There was much to be discussed and worked out. While their marriage would be a good alliance for both kingdoms, compromises would have to be made. Including, Manon informed him, splitting their time between the two capitols.

Dorian had agreed before she even got all the words out. “I don’t care where we are, as long as we’re together.”

“We can’t be together all the time,” she said, trying to be sensible as she stood before him, staring in wonder at his proximity, listening to his heartbeat. He was taking his time pulling the pins from her hair, one by one. Manon wasn’t sure if sensible was possible right now. The heartache of the last six months, the explosive revelations of hours ago, she exhaled and let it all go, as if the winds could carry it away across the sea. Right here, right now, it was just them. Sensible talk about kingdoms and politics could wait.

“I beg to differ,” he said, reaching around her head for a pin. The movement brought him blessedly closer.

“There you go again,” she purred. “Begging.”

Her hair was free of pins and he began to undo the braid, letting it fall through his fingers. “Only for you, witchling.”

She continued to watch him, getting lost in the perfect smile that hadn’t left his face in hours. When Manon reached up and ran her fingers over his dimpled cheek, he made a little gasp and turned his attention from her hair. “You said last night that I don’t belong to you, but you belong to me,” she said.

“I did.” His smile faded, his voice a deep whisper.

“You were wrong. I am yours and yours only. There is no one else I would give myself to.”

Dorian took her face in both hands and kissed her, and she felt his smile return. “Only you.”

Clutching her hand, he led her to the bed where they took their time undressing each other. She lay back on the bed, losing herself to the charged heat of his touch, the soft fullness of his lips.

“Only you,” she murmured, feeling his mouth curl up against the inside of her thigh.

Dorian took his time, for they had that now. Time to tease and caress every inch of her, time to nip at her ears, time to shift her hips to sink deeper inside her, leaving her breathless and needy for more. And after an eternity where he sent her spinning over the edge again and again, he joined her, calling out her name as if it were his home.

When their euphoria faded, Dorian fell onto the bed next to her, pulling her close as they fought to catch their breath. “And you say I’m the one who always begs,” he teased.

They slept in the next morning, not getting out of bed until almost noon when Ruben knocked and demanded they eat something. There were other things to see to, guests to say goodbye to, and then finally, that night after dinner, Manon and Dorian went to the dungeons.

The second Lord Frey saw them, he dropped to his knees. “Please, Your Majesty. I only wanted the money to rebuild my estate. I never intended to bring about war. Please, please …”

Manon was surprised by the sudden turn. Just yesterday at the ceremony, he’d been trying to urge his allies to stand in support of him, ultimately resorting to screamed threats that had the opposite effect. And now, he was on his knees, pleading for his life.

“You’re accused of treason, Frey,” Dorian said. The man flinched at the loss of his title. “If you really want to continue confessing, be my guest. But you may want to wait for a judge.”

The man shook his head, befuddled. “You … you’re not going to hang me?”

This man had almost destroyed their lives, bringing Adarlan to the brink of civil war. Dorian had every right to punish him harshly. They’d discussed how to handle these interrogations over dinner, though they had not expected it would be this easy. It seemed that Frey was a coward at heart and had been a poor choice of conspirators for Fennick.

Dorian said, “I won’t hang you. If you tell me why.”

Frey heaved a sigh of relief, though he had the sense to still look nervous. “Before the war, Duke Perrington forced me to help fund some of his work at Morath.” At Dorian’s dubious look, he added, “I swear I did not know who he truly was then. I was acting in the best interest of my kingdom and my holdings. But … he bled me dry, offering promises of future reward that never came. And then he was revealed to be Erawan, leaving Adarlan devastated. I had enough in my vault to maintain appearances, but nothing more. Prince Fennick approached me earlier this year with an offer that would allow me to regain my former wealth. I was to stir up dislike for you and get support from other nobles, enough to pose a credible threat to your throne. When talk of rebellion grew to a boiling point, I would demand you marry my daughter. Her hand in exchange for appeasing your enemies.”

“And what was your payment?” Manon asked.

“Gold,” Frey said simply. She arched an eyebrow in a silent demand for more, and he sank miserably onto the floor. “And the promise that when an heir was born, the king would be eliminated, leaving me as regent.”

The gold was expected. But the threat of assassination came as a shock. Dorian was speechless, trying to process how close they’d come to ruin. Frey eyed him, fearful that the earlier proposal to spare him from hanging would be dismissed.

“What did he stand to gain?” Manon continued. Frey seemed oblivious to the fact that he would be installed as a puppet. Or, more likely, set up as Dorian’s killer and disposed of himself.  

“Prince Fennick would be able to marry you. He told me all about how the two of you met during the war.” At Manon’s surprise, the man hesitated. “He said that he had fallen in love with you, that you were his mate. But you were attached to King Dorian. He believed the only chance he stood was to have the king removed from the mix.”

Manon and Dorian said nothing as they stared at each other. Frey returned to begging for his life, mistaking their silence for anger at the dark depths of the scheme. He was still calling out to them for mercy as they left him with a guard.

When they reached Fennick’s cell further down the dank passageway, they found the fae stretched out lazily on a cot. His eyes were closed, and something about the scene made Manon’s temper boil to the surface. Dorian cleared his throat, and the fae could no longer pretend they weren’t there. He stood and looked between her and Dorian.

She’d thought perhaps Fennick might still be projecting the indignant fury of the night before, or something worse. But he wore the same confident expression he’d had when she first met him.

“I wasn’t lying about that woman I loved. Mortals are fickle. And they die so easily.”

It was directed at Manon, but Dorian asked, “Was that a threat?” She knew he was keeping his magic on a tight leash, but the air still crackled with it.

Fennick huffed a laugh, ignoring the question and Dorian. “Immortals such as you and I should not debase ourselves by associating with humans. Maeve and I rarely saw eye to eye, but the restrictions she placed on who could settle in Doranelle were something on which we could agree.”

“It seems to me your human was the smart one,” Manon said, somehow controlling the urge to maul him. “Escaping your clutches was the best thing that could have happened to her.”

He grinned at her, his sharp canines flashing, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Who said she escaped me?”

Here was the male she’d been worried they might find, the one kept hidden under the fancy clothes and courtly manners. The one who thought he could take their kingdoms as his own.

“So, you hate humans?” Dorian asked, lightly. “That’s what this is all about?”

Fennick finally turned to acknowledge him. “I don’t particularly care for them. But no, Your Majesty, that’s not what this is about.” Dorian’s title came out of his mouth as a sneer. “I had just as much right to Maeve’s throne as any Whitethorn. To simply hand it to Sellene, as if it were some cheap trinket to be tossed at whoever stood nearest was a disgrace.”

“We had nothing to do with that,” Manon said.

“True,” Fennick agreed. “But there were no other kingdoms as vulnerable as yours. Or as valuable, what with all that gold you have hidden in the Wastes. The Witch Kingdom was the perfect place to start.”

Manon growled at the insult, but Dorian asked, “Start what?”

“My rule,” he said simply. To Manon, he added, “Having you at my side was to an extra reward. I understand the valg king wanted you for his queen. I must confess, that piqued my interest.”

She shuddered at the mention of Erawan. It brought back memories of the way his eyes would crawl over her, possessive and hungry. The valg king had planned to keep her as his own. Much like this fae.

Dorian’s restraint was reaching its limit and the air felt suddenly cooler. His voice was just as icy as he asked, “Rule what?”

“Everything.” The word was slick, as if coated in venom.

Something had changed in Fennick’s manner with the confession. Gone were the handsome features and polite way of speaking. Locked in a cell, his hair disheveled and clothing dirty, he looked like a different creature. She’d known fae could be feral, animalistic. She’d experienced it, barely survived it. But watching him speak these words, Manon wondered if she’d truly ever seen the transformation before.

“You searched for a desperate Adarlan noble,” she said, “one with a marriageable daughter, one who could be paid off to extort the king. All to force Dorian into an arranged marriage, seduce me to steal my kingdom, then kill him for his. Do I have it right?”

Fennick’s eyes narrowed on Dorian and he grinned. “The seduction part is right, at least.”

Manon flew at him, her iron nails extended and desperate for blood. Bars or not, she wanted to scratch the bastard’s eyes from their sockets. But Dorian grabbed her by the waist and held her back. She struggled against him briefly before calming down. When he let go of her, she still shook with the desire to hurt the male. This fae prince had truly thought he could conquer Erilea? She wanted to scream in his face that he was a fool. But she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to bring more attention to how close he’d come to setting his plan in motion. And to her own foolishness. She’d let this monster touch her, dance with her. She’d pitied him when he deserved nothing but revulsion.

Dorian stepped up to the cell door, eyeing Fennick with a sly smile. “It’s funny that you think you could try to play us against each other.”

The male shrugged, unconcerned. “It was worth a shot. You are only human.”

“I may only be human,” Dorian said, “but I have something you don’t.”

Instantly, Fennick was slammed backwards by invisible hands, thrown up against the grimy stone wall and held there. He tried to speak but couldn’t. Somehow, Dorian had cut off his voice. The male’s eyes bulged in rage.

Manon watched Fennick struggle against Dorian’s magic, her enjoyment of the spectacle growing with each vein that popped out on the male’s neck. Speaking to Dorian, she mused, “Do you think he’s even a prince?”

“From his branch of the family? The one even Maeve ignored?” Dorian taunted. “No, I doubt it. And Sellene certainly played no part in this. He’s here on his own, likely without a coin to his name.”

“That reminds me,” Manon said, turning back to Fennick. “Your intricate plan had at least two big flaws,” she said. “Your reliance on using the Witch Kingdom’s gold was misguided, I’m afraid. The gold we have is mostly still in the ground, unrefined, and worth next to nothing. And your pathetic attempts to seduce me and make me think we might be mates …” She trailed off, swallowing the bile that had risen in her throat at the words. “My mate stands beside me now,” she said, feeling Dorian’s gaze settle on her. Whatever connection they shared, whether it was love or something more, they were mates in each other’s eyes.

Fennick had gone still, a silent, malevolent rage simmering off him. She glanced at Dorian, who loosened his magical hold and let the fae drop to the floor in a heap.

Jumping up, Fennick sprang towards the bars holding him in, teeth bared, his hands reaching out to strike her. Dorian had them shielded. And when his fists were repelled by nothing but air, Fennick screamed. “You bitch! You don’t know-” The fae was thrown back against the wall, his voice cut off again.

“I’ve heard enough,” Dorian said, his face twisted as he struggled to control his magic so as not to kill the male.

Before they left, Manon said, “A messenger has been sent to Sellene, outlining all you’ve done and what you will be charged with. If she asks for you back to throw in her own cells, we may oblige.” When he didn’t seem to care, she added, “And a messenger was sent north to Terrasen. I’m sure Rowan will be interested in hearing about what you’ve done using the family name.” For the first time, real fear flashed across Fennick’s face. Manon smiled, wicked and slow. “You’re right to fear him,” she said. “But I fought with Sellene in the war. She is just as fearsome as Rowan. Why do you think they made her queen?”

By the time they walked back past Frey’s cell, it had been emptied of its prisoner. In exchange for his promise of testimony, he’d been moved to a cleaner section of the dungeons. And when they started up the twisting stairs, Dorian released his magic. They heard a thud and a string of loud curses.

Manon was silent as they came out into a room just off the main entrance hall. Even though she never fell for Fennick’s advances, had never come close to letting things progress in that direction, she’d excused his behavior. The fact that he’d marked her as a fool, marked her kingdom as vulnerable, marked Dorian for death, left her dizzy with guilt and fear. While Glennis and Yrene were happy to be proven right about him, Manon felt adrift, as if her instincts had abandoned her.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Dorian said, motioning the steward over to them. She didn’t hear what he requested.

“I know. But it feels as though it is.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I was duped as much as you were. Thank the gods for Eveline and Costis.”

“Yes,” Manon agreed. “I wonder where they will end up?”

A boy returned bearing two heavy cloaks. Dorian took them and smiled. “I don’t know. But we should find them and send them a wedding gift.”

He draped a cloak over her shoulders and put the other one across his own. Clasping her hand, he led her out of the castle and in the direction of the stables. Abraxos stretched his long neck and arched his back at the first sight of them, excited for their late visit. Manon hugged Dorian tight, thanking him for knowing exactly what she needed at the exact right time. They climbed into the saddle and with a whoop from his rider, Abraxos took off into the star filled night.

***

The following summer in Rifthold, after a week of festivities that brought the Terrasen Queen and her entire court, the Queen of the Western Wastes, the future Emperor and Empress of the Southern Continent, the newly crowned King of Wendlyn, the Queen of Doranelle, and other royalty from across Erilea, Dorian and Manon were finally married.

That night, after the ceremony, as they lay in bed pointing out familiar constellations that had been painted on the ceiling of the royal suite, Dorian pulled a package from the bedside table. Silently, he presented it to his queen. Manon took it, bemused and unable to tell what was under the wrapping. When she tore it off and opened the box, she found a beautiful, leather-bound book.

Stamped in gold lettering on the cover were their names, Manon and Dorian.

“Is this the same …?” She trailed off, knowing the answer before finishing the question.

Dorian shook his head. “No, but Glennis told me about the one you got. I thought we should have our own. Open it.”

She flipped through and found some of the pages in the beginning already filled in. There was a family tree for each of them. Dorian’s included Chaol, Yrene, and Josie. And Manon traced her fingers over the names of the parents she’d never met, and the sisters she had lost.

Then a page titled How We Met. It was mostly blank, except for where Dorian had written

She saved me.

Manon stared at it for a long moment. Then suddenly, she jumped out of bed and went to his desk. After a moment of searching, she found a pen and bottle of ink. Underneath his words, she wrote

He saved me too.

Over the years, the book was carried back and forth between Adarlan and the Witch Kingdom, never leaving the possession of the King and Queen. Its pages were filled with memories, happy and sad. Memories of theirs and of others. Births, deaths.

And when the book was passed on to their daughter, she read her parents love for her and each other in every word. For they were lucky. Rhiannon’s parents were a love match, and she’d promised them she wouldn’t settle for anything less.

The end.

***

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this ending made up for the pain and angst everyone suffered through! ☺️

You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

@itach-i  @bookishwitchling  @manontrashbeak  @awesomelena555  @jimetg98  @over300books

[o3o-aya]

fic about my oc being a menace and it backfires

Alyna groaned as she laid back on her bed. Being shut in... It sucked and wasn’t fun but of course.... Her father insisted while he had a meeting with his uppermoons.

She knew them! Why did she need to be shut in her room!! She paused as she sat up, hearing the uppermoons leave before she smirked as she heard one of them stay.

She slowly slid open her door and peaked out. Ah... It was that idiot....

Uppermoon two... 

He was dumb enough to accept what she was about to say to him...

Not like she didn’t feel anything for him, she thought he was strong but that was about it.

She took a deep breath as she pressed on her eyes with her handkerchief, making herself tear up.

She slid open her door before slowly walking towards him. “D-Douma..” She mumbled as she played with the sleeves of her kimono.

“Well well... If it isn’t tiny Kibutsuji..~” Douma said as he waved his fan slightly.

“Douma... I.. I love you! Please accept my feelings!”  She cried out, tears welling in her eyes.

She didn’t love him, she just wanted to stir up trouble for her father and this uppermoon.

Douma looked down at her as he paused a bit. He was used to having women confess their love to him but he certainly didn’t expect the master’s daughter to have fallen for him!

She was just so helpless... And innocent. 

He couldn’t help but want to take advantage of it. 

“Such a beautiful confession!” Douma said cheerfully before he grabbed her hand gently and kissed the back of it. “I’ll accept your confession then..~”

~~~~~~~

A few weeks into this secret relationship... Alyna had successfully managed to get Douma to believe she was completely in love with him!

It wasn’t to hard to do so anyways...

She pulled the sheets close to her body as she sat up, watching as Douma dress. 

“Must you leave so soon..?” She asked him softly. She didn’t care if he stayed or left, she just wanted to stir up drama.

Douma looked at her before he chuckled softly. “They’re expecting me at my temple.. You should visit sometime.” He said before he kissed her forehead.

“I should leave before the master catches me!” He winked before leaving.

Alyna scoffed and rolled her eyes as she watched him leave. “Imbecile...” She said before dressing in her red kimono. She had to see her mother... And pretend none of this was happening.

~~~~~

It wasn’t even three months into this relationship, that Alyna went crying to her mother that she didn’t feel good. 

She exclaimed she was dying and just clung to her mother like a child as Muzan watched her with an annoyed look.

“Nii-chan really seems sick.” Yuno said as he watched his sister throw her tantrum.

She only really got whiny and threw tantrums when she was sick or feeling unwell.

Yuno looked up and watched as his father rub his temples, watching the vein pop out of his forehead. 

“I’ll examine her..” Muzan grumbled a bit.

Kana smiled as she looked at her daughter and stroked her hair. “Come on... Papa will make you feel better...” She said softly as she rubbed her back.

Alyna sniffed and wiped her tears. “Okay...” She mumbled before she slowly sat on the table. 

It seemed like forever that she was examined before she paused as she noticed Muzan stop, looking at her with narrowed eyes. 

“What did you do?” Muzan asked her.

Alyna paused a bit as she tilted her head before she furrowed her brow.  “What are you talking about...?” She mumbled.

“You’re pregnant!” Muzan said as he slammed his hand down.

It seemed like the world stopped... All she could hear was her mother crying and her father yelling at her.

‘Shit...’ She thought.

I wanna make a part 2 someone tell me to make a part 2