#we have a balcony and I’m not afraid to use it

[crowcrownprince]

My workplace refuses to fix the air con and I’m so fucking close to just drag my entire desk outside so I can work while getting some fucking AIR

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Eight

A/N: Hello, friends! I'm afraid today I bring more stress in this chapter. I hope you are all still enjoying the story so far. Thank you for all your comments, likes, and reblogs. Only two more chapters to go!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader return to King's Landing, where for one glimmering moment it seems like all might be well, until an unexpected visitor arrives to shake that hope.

Tag List: Please see comments! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Previous Chapter

Jace is not in bed when you wake up. For the last three mornings, he has been the first thing you see when you open your eyes. Sitting up in the fluffy bed that the two of you had shared the night before, you glance around his room. It’s colder than normal in here, as well as empty, and the door to the balcony is wide open.

You grab a robe and wrap it around yourself quickly, making for the open doors. Jace stands along the railing, his back to you. He’s dressed, a first in the last few days, but you’re relieved that it’s only in his sleep clothes, not his full riding gear. He doesn’t hear you until you come up behind him, until you're wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Morning,” he says, turning to face you and giving your lips a soft kiss.

“It’s freezing out here, Jace,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re freezing,” you say, rubbing a hand over his chest. He laughs as he takes that hand, kissing it softly. He keeps his eyes on the horizon, a slight frown on his face.

“What is it?” you ask.

“My mother sent a raven,” he says, his jaw tense.

“Better than a dragon,” you say, and you smile when he does.

“She says I must return.”

“We knew this day was coming,” you say.

“She also asked that you return, too.” He turns to you then, taking your hands in his. He looks you over for a moment, a contemplative look in his eyes. “My first thought was to ignore her summons.”

“Jace,” you say softly.

“But I figured she would send a dragon then. So I thought about you and I getting on Vermax and heading for Pentos.”

“Jace!” you say, eyes wide. He smiles.

“I figured you’d say as much.”

“As much fun as running away with you sounds,” you say, “You belong in King’s Landing. You have a throne waiting for you.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore?” he asks quietly. You frown at him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to kiss him softly.

“I’d say you’re not thinking straight because we’ve been fucking nonstop for the past three days."

“Can you blame me?” he asks, his arm going around your waist.

“No, and I can’t even believe I’m saying it, either, but we have to return to King’s Landing. We have to face whatever fate awaits us.”

“Not right away though,” he says, pulling you flush against him.

“No,” you say with a smile, “Not right away.”

Later that morning, Jace mounts Vermax and flies back to King’s Landing. He hates that you have to part in Dragonstone, that you have to take a ship back. He wishes that he could have just one more moment with you, because as he approaches his home, a strange, paranoid feeling washes over him. He’s always been hopeful for your future, and maybe it just has to do with the fact that so much has changed between the two of you, but he feels that hope slipping.

When he gets to the castle, his first stop is his mother’s chambers. The look she gives him when he walks in is part relief at seeing him, and part disappointment.

“Mother,” he says, stopping just inside of the doorframe, hands behind his back.

“Hello, Jace,” she says, “I trust your flight was well?”

“It was.”

“Good,” she says, giving him a smile that chills him. “Sit down, please.” She motions to the table in her chambers and sits down after him.

“Mother—”

“Just, give me a moment,” she says with a shake of her head. “I want to make sure I understand clearly.

"Baela discovered that there is something between you and Lady Y/N, so she sends Y/N to Dragonstone, so that she could clear things up with you, after which, you follow to Dragonstone and hide out there for three days.”

“That sounds accurate,” he says with a sigh. Rhaenyra raises her eyebrow at him.

“You've insulted Baela," she says. Jace drops his head.

“That was never my intention.”

“Regardless, the insult has landed."

“Where is Baela?” he asks. "I saw Moondancer was gone."

“Driftmark. She should be back in a few days.”

“And have you thought any more about my request?” he asks. Rhaenyra sighs, looking at him blankly.

“You’ve put me in a tough position, Jace. You’ve put Y/N in a worse one.”

“What do you mean?’ he asks with a shake of his head.

“If I grant you leave to marry her, all is well. But you’ve bedded her,” she says, making him blush as he clenches his jaw. “If I deny you, what becomes of her? Of the child she may bare you?” He doesn’t have an answer because he has been denying the reality of the matter to himself.

“Tell me, did you do this to force my hand?” she asks.

“No!” he says quickly, “No. I love her.”

“You have to plead your case with Baela, Jace. But," she says, sighing as she meets his eyes, "If she agrees, you have my blessing."

The trip back to King's Landing took as long as the one to Dragonstone, but it feels infinitely shorter. You had two days to prepare yourself for what you will face when you returned, enough time, you thought, to sort out your own feelings. But the entire time, your head and your heart were fighting over the right path.

As you step off the ship and on to steady ground, you decide to let whatever is coming come. Whether that means getting sent back to the Vale, your reputation getting destroyed, or all your dreams coming true.

Inside the Red Keep, your first thought is to find Jeyne and apologize for leaving so abruptly. It had been so early when you left, you hadn't had time to find her and tell her what was happening.

You take a few more steps into the Keep when someone slips out of the shadows, causing your heart to leap.

“Let’s turn around and go back to Dragonstone,” Jace whispers in your ear, placing a soft hand on your arm. Your racing heart seems to settle to its normal pounding at seeing him.

“We've already discussed what will happen if we do that,” you say with a smile. Jace glances around the large hallway before taking your hand and pulling you into an empty study. The minute the door closes, he pins you to the doorframe, his lips crashing into yours. You laugh into the kiss, a hand on his waist, keeping him close to you.

“Your Highness,” you say, breaking away to catch your breath.

“Don’t start with that,” he says, the smile on his face never leaving.

“I need to get back into character,” you say innocently. He kisses you again.

“I like you just the way you are.”

“We can’t be seen together, you know,” you say. His smile does fall a little then, realizing that you are true to your word. Now that you’ve returned to King’s Landing, you will have to go back to playing your parts.

Simply put, there is no more time for this fairytale.

"I have news," he says.

"Oh?"

"My mother has given her blessing, officially, as long as Baela gives hers first."

"Jace," you say quietly, so stunned you take a step back from him. He smiles, pulling you right back.

"That's good news, right?" he asks.

"It's wonderful news," you say, now breathless.

"Well then look more excited," he says, making you laugh.

"I can't trust this hopeful feeling inside of me," you say, meeting his eyes. He smiles, brushing your hair back behind your ear with a gentle frown.

"I know what you mean."

"Do you think she--"

"I don't know," he say, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Well," you say, holding his hands. "It is good news. We can be hopeful, but also realistic."

"How do we do that?" he asks with a laugh.

"We keep pretending that nothing has changed," you say. "And wait for the moment that we might actually be able to be ourselves."

“I don’t like this,” he says. You cup his cheek, your thumb brushing softly.

“I don’t either,” you say. You need to break apart, make your way to your separate chambers. “I love you,” you say, watching him look back to you. It’s the best way you can say goodbye right now.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.” You nod and lean in to kiss his soft lips once more.

Once you've settled into your room, greeting Brigitta, who gives you a knowing look, you head for Jeyne's quarters. When she opens the door, the look she gives you, deadpanned with a raise eyebrow, only makes you laugh. Sudden excitement fills you, knowing that she might share in your joy.

“You know, I didn’t come all this way, just for you to flee to Dragonstone for days,” she says, turning from the door, leaving you to follow her into the room.

“I didn’t flee, I was sent.”

“Within reason, I think,” Jeyne says, turning to face you. “If my fiancé was seeing someone behind my back—”

“Jeyne.” She studies your face, the look on it.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Rhaenyra has officially given her blessing. As long as Baela agrees, Jace and I can be together.”

"She has?" she asks, taking your hand.

"Yes," you say with a smile.

"Oh Y/N, that's wonderful. But will Baela agree?" she asks. Your smile falls a little then.

"I don't know. Jace doesn't either."

"She left the same day he did, you know," Jeyne says, guiding you into her room, sitting down next to you. "Rhaena thought she might be heading to meet the two of you in Dragonstone." You take in a breath, realizing how lucky it was that she didn't, that you got to have those few days alone with Jace.

"Should the fact that she didn't make me hopeful or not?"

"I don't know her that well," she says. "Rhaena does seem to be cooling off a little, though."

"Good," you say, setting your jaw.

"It's okay, you know," she says, leaning forward until you meet her eyes. "It's okay that you tried to find your happiness with Jace. Even if it doesn't work out in the end, you had this time together. It matters." You don't have the words, so you just give her a smile, fighting off the tears and nerves that build inside of you.

"So," she says, changing the subject to lighter matters, "Tell me how it was."

You don't see Jace the rest of that day. Jeyne invites you back to her quarters for a private dinner, and on your return to your quarters, you wonder if he might be waiting. If you might pick up old habits.

But when you approach your door, he is not there. You try to hide your disappointment as you settle in for the night. Brigitta goes about laying out your nightwear, and you are just about to change when a knock comes from the door.

You answer it, foolishly hoping its Jace, but instead find a member of the Kingsguard waiting.

"Lady Y/L/N, your presence is requested in the throne room immediately."

"Oh. Yes. Very well," you say, anxiety creeping in. This is to be the moment then, when you find out what your future will hold.

As you walk down to the throne room, your heart thuds. Jeyne appears at the opposite end of the hallway. She has a soft smile on her lips, too, but there is the same uncertainty there, too.

When you walk into the throne you, when you spot the Iron Throne, you aren’t sure you’re breathing, not sure what you’re seeing fully, until Jeyne stops in her steps, gasping quietly.

Standing in front of the throne is Barun Blacktyde, your former fiancé.

The world blurs around you, fading into the distance. Ringing fills your ears. Sweat builds at your brow. All you can see is Barun, his tall figure, corded with muscles, and the cruelest expression on his face.

“Hello, Y/N,” Barun says, meeting your gaze, a wicked smile on his face.

“Lo-Lord Blacktyde,” you say, your feet stuck to the floor. Jeyne doesn’t move any further, but her hand brushes yours, a gentle, quiet reminder that she’s here. The gesture is sweet, but useless. She had been there when the arrangement was made in the first place, and couldn’t do anything to keep you from him.

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Arryn, Y/N,” Rhaenyra says. Her tone is firm, and you break your gaze from Barun to look at her. She sits upon the Iron Throne, a strained, tight-lipped expression on her face. It is only when you look towards her that you realize Jace is at her side, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword, his face pale.

“Perhaps the two of you can shed a little light on this situation,” Rhaenyra continues. Jeyne takes your hand fully in hers, stepping forward twice, just enough to recognize her queen, but still stay far from Barun.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Jeyne says, “But we are as confused as you are. It has been years since either of us have seen the Lord Blacktyde.”

“I’ve come to collect what was promised to me,” Barun says, his voice harsh, as if this is an argument he has repeated to Rhaenyra already.

“Who was promised to you,” Rhaenyra says, her voice tight, “Lord Blacktyde claims that he is betrothed to Y/N,” she says, turning to the two of you. If it wasn’t for Jeyne’s grip on your hand, you might have run, might have fainted, so scared are you in that moment.

“That was years ago,” Jeyne says immediately, watching Barun as he paces the room, eyeing the two of you, a predator stalking his prey. “And the betrothal fell through when Lord Blacktyde married another.”

“Lady Blacktyde died two months back,” Barun replies, startling you at how close he has gotten. He still stays a step away, constantly moving, but his focus is solely on you. You won’t quiver before him, and keep your eyes ahead, keep them on Rhaenyra. If you look to Jace, you know you will break.

“My condolences for your loss, Lord Blacktyde. But if what Lady Arryn says is true—”

“Y/N is unmarried, is she not?” he asks, and this time he is closer, just a step from you. The smell of sea salt and sweat cling to him. You straighten, hoping to move inconspicuously away from him.

Rhaenyra glances at Jace before answering, “Not presently, no.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that deal is void,” Jeyne says, dropping your hand to move closer to Barun, seamlessly pushing you behind her. “You broke it when you married Lady Blacktyde.”

“Is the Vale so eager to lose allies?” Barun asks lowly. Jeyne smiles, devoid of any joy.

“Are you threatening me, My Lord?” Jeyne asks.

“I only mean that the deal was brokered to forge an alliance with our two great houses. That something should change that—”

“You changed it already when you married,” you say, turning to look at him. Fear still resides within you, but so does a growing anger. He seems to have an equal look of displeasure on his face.

“So, she does speak,” he says, sizing you up.

“Our agreement has ended,” you say, “If you wish for it to be reinstated, I suggest you plea your case to my cousin, instead of coming in and demanding that which does not belong to you.”

“You dare tell me—”

“An excellent idea, Y/N,” Rhaenyra says, standing from the throne. “Lord Blacktyde, you've come into my home uninvited, I suggest you rethink your style. I shall offer you boarding here until an agreement can be made between you and House Arryn.” She looks over at you with a withering stare.

“I’m sure the pair of you have plenty to do,” she says. Words fail you, but Lady Arryn steps up, understanding the queen’s signal.

“We do, Your Majesty.”

“Off you go, then.”

Jeyne doesn’t waste a moment. Before even the guards have stepped up to guide Barun to his rooms, she grabs your arm. As she drags you out of the throne room, you look towards Jace. His face is ashen, his head hung low.

“Come on,” Jeyne says, pulling you after her. Neither of you say anything on the march back to her chambers. When she closes the doors behind you, she locks it tightly.

“Jeyne,” you say, breathless, “How did he know I was here?”

“I don’t know. Spies in the Vale?” she muses. There is fear on her face, which only makes the fear inside of you grow. So many thoughts fill your head, but nothing you can make sense of. A plan to escape rattles around. What Barun might take instead of you. But mostly, you think of Jace and the look on his face when he realized what was happening.

“Jeyne,” you begin, your tears from before wallowing up. She is by your side in a moment, her hands on your arms. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she says, “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out together. I promise you.” You nod, not fully believing her.

Jace decides to stop fighting sleep when the sun is visible from the window in his room. He rolls over with a groan as his maids enter. They curtsy to him, but even the task of nodding his head is too much for him.

“How did you sleep, Your Highness?” Cecelia asks. She has been his maid since he was a boy, and the way she is looking at him now, Jace knows she could see right through him.

“I’ve had better nights,” he says, sitting up, propping his arms on his knees.

“That seems to be the common theme around here today,” she mutters as she sets out his breakfast.

“What do you mean?” he asks. She only glances at him, but that look is confirmation enough. “How is Y/N?”

“I haven’t seen her,” she says, nodding to the other maid to dismiss her. Once she’s out the door, she continues, “But her lady’s maid was up all night, because Lady Arryn had a fitful night. Says she kept waking up, screaming.”

“I need to see her,” he says, throwing back his sheets.

“The Queen has asked that the two of you remain separated,” she says. Jace barely hears her as he tugs on a shirt and pulls on a pair of pants, whatever is close by.

“Cecelia, please,” he says, eyes wide.

“The guards will stop you,” she says. “But . . .”

“But?” he asks, stepping closer to her. The older woman looks up at him with a sad smile.

“There’s a servant’s entrance that can get you into her room. It’s a long path—”

“I don’t care,” he says. “Show me.”

The walls of the servant’s hallway are dark, and are nearly too tight for him to walk through, let alone two people at a time. His mind isn’t on the spider webs, or the dank smell of the halls. He just needs to get to you. He thinks about the night he had, the lack of sleep, and knowing that it was worse for you makes him sick.

When he finally reaches the door to your quarters, he takes a breath. It’s been nearly ten minutes since he left his chambers. The entire walk over he thought he knew what he was going to say, but here at your doorstep, he’s at a loss.

The light of the room is jarring in retrospect to the dark hallway he leaves. When he walks in, he hears soft chatter, and he spots you almost immediately.

You are still in your dressing gown, your hair flowing down your back, in tangled curls. Your back is turned to him, but when he closes the door behind him, you turn. Your eyes go wide.

“Your Highness,” you say.

“Really? We’re going back to—” he stops when he sees you nod towards the corner of the room. Lady Arryn stands from the breakfast table and makes her way towards him. She curtsies and Jace nods his head politely.

“What a lovely surprise, Your Highness,” Jeyne says.

“Lady Arryn, I need to have a word with Y/N, if you wouldn’t mind,” he says. She studies him for a long moment but then nods her head.

“I’ll be right outside the door,” she says, glancing at you before leaving the room. When the door closes, you turn towards him.

“Jace, I know you must be furious with me,” you say, “And you’ve got every right to be, I—"

“I’m not angry, Y/N,” he says, moving closer to you. “I’m confused as hell, but mostly I'm worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say gently.

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what’s going on.”

“There is nothing going on between Lord Blacktyde and I. There never was.”

“He made it seem otherwise,” he says, bracing a hand on the back of a chair. You watch him for a long moment, and he can see you fighting with yourself, deciding whether you’ll tell him the full story. “Y/N, just tell me the truth.”

“Fine,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “Fine.” You take a seat at the table, nodding for him to do the same. He does, his pulse racing as he waits for you to tell him.

“When you came to the Eyrie all those years ago, asking for our help, what were Jeyne’s terms of agreement?” you ask. Jace’s brow furrows.

“A dragon to guard the Vale.”

“And what else?”

“That when the war was over, you would be allowed access to live within King’s Landing, as the Queen’s ward,” he says with a sigh.

“There was a deeper reason behind that. Before you came to the Vale, Lord Royce had arranged a betrothal for me, to Lord Blacktyde. Since my father’s death, we had been scrambling to find our footing, and he accepted the first worthwhile offer for me.

“What neither of us knew, was the kind of man Barun was. Is,” you say. “He’s got wandering hands, a fierce temper, and I was terrified of him.” Jace’s heart breaks at your words, and he reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We didn’t see a way out until you came. Jeyne took the opportunity, and," you say, taking a breath, "You saved me. Those long years during the war, I wasn’t afraid because I knew I had an escape. Jeyne told Barun that she wanted me to go to King’s Landing, to become a more well-rounded woman. He got sick of waiting and eventually married someone from the Iron Islands. Our engagement was called off, because of you.” He is silent for a long moment, sitting with the gravity of your words.

“When I heard the news, I was so relieved. But still, in the back of my mind, there was a fear. What if he ever came back? What if something happened to his wife? I waited five years to come here, not knowing when he would appear again, demanding that the engagement be reinstated."

“And now he is back,” he says. Jace is sick and he’s angry, but most of all, he just wants to take you in his arms and hold you. He can see the lack of sleep in you. The dark circles under your eyes, how devoid of energy you are.

“Now, more than ever we need to ensure our marriage," he says firmly.

“Jace,” you say, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I am not sure we have that choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a time, during our initial engagement, where I tried to break it off with Barun, and in response, he threatened to bring war to the Vale,” you say.

“We’ll stop him. Can he stand up against our army? Against Vermax?”

“I would not send you into another war,” you say quietly. “And The Vale’s reinforcements are already so depleted.”

“So you mean to give in to his bargaining?” he asks.

“I don’t know what I mean to do,” you say with a shake of your head, “I’ve thought about it all night long.”

“He can’t hurt you here, Y/N,” he says, taking your hand. You look at him with sad eyes.

“He is possessive. Cruel. If he ever found out about us, about what we’ve done,” you say quietly. “I am dead.”

“Y/N.”

“He wants me as a trophy. Wants me to have children for him, he wants to use me. That is the future that awaits me. Now you see why I was trying so hard to find a suitor, I was trying to ensure that by the time he came looking, I was already gone.”

“Why can’t you see that you’ve found your suitor?" he says gently, "I will protect you.”

“We don’t even know if that’s a possibility, Jace.”

“We do know. My mother has given us her blessing, we--"

“And what will she think now?" you ask, "After what she's seen today? What kind of a queen would I make?”

“I won’t allow this to happen," he says, setting his jaw, stepping closer to you. "He's not going to just take you away from me."

“Jace,” you say with a frown, “Depending on what your mother says, what kind of deal Jeyne can make—"

“There’s always a chance,” he says, cupping your cheek. “I love you. Don’t you love me, still?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then we will figure this out, like we always have.”

[ange1heavensent]

Do you feel ashamed  When you hear my name?

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

w/c ≈ 1420

authors note: first time writing angst, hope you'll like it!

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

The party is louder than usual, the bass thumping in sync with your heartbeat as you sit on a couch, watching the world around you with a growing sense of detachment. You try to focus on the conversation your friends are having, but your attention drifts back to her, Abby.

She’s standing near the beer pong table, towering over the group of athletes she always hangs out with. Her loud laughter cuts through the noise, and her smile, the one that used to be reserved for you, now feels distant. The sight of her should’ve brought comfort, but instead, it’s a reminder of the growing distance between you two.

You nurse on your drink, taking small sips to calm the ache gnawing at your chest. You’ve been together for months now, though no one else knows. Abby’s never been open about what you are to her, not in public. The stolen kisses behind closed doors, the secret late-night meetups, the whispered promises when no one was around, it felt like a dream you were both chasing, but one you could never fully grasp.

And the hiding. Always the hiding. Her friends walk right past you without a second glance, unaware of how close you two really are. Or were. Abby never acknowledges you at parties. Never looks at you for too long when others are around. Like she’s afraid someone will piece together the puzzle and see the truth.

Your heart clenches when Abby catches your gaze from across the room. For a moment, you think she might walk over. But she doesn’t. She holds your stare for a split second before turning back to her friends, laughing at something they said.

That’s it.

You take a deep breath, already feeling the cold weight of inevitability in your bones. You can’t keep doing this. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks, but tonight feels different, heavier. Final.

When you see her slip out to the balcony for air, you follow, even though your legs feel like they’re made of lead.

The cool night air hits you as you step out onto the balcony where Abby is leaning against the railing, staring into the distance. Her hair is tied back in that familiar braid, her muscular arms crossed over her chest. She hears you approaching but doesn’t turn around.

"Hey," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, though the quiet of the night makes it sound louder. Abby glances over her shoulder at you, her face guarded, "hey." You step closer, but not too close. Not like before. There’s a distance between you now, one that can’t be closed with just words.

The silence stretched painfully, thick with everything that’s been left unsaid for so long. You don’t even know how to start. But you know what you have to do. You know what’s breaking inside of you. “I can’t do this anymore,” you finally say, each word weighed down by months of hurt. Abby’s jaw clenches, and she stares straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t keep being your secret.” The words spill out faster than you intend, raw and honest. “I can’t keep pretending we don’t know each other when we’re around your friends. I can’t keep waiting for you to text me at 3 AM because that’s the only time you feel safe enough to talk to me. I love you, Abby, but I’m tired of being hidden.”

She says nothing, her silence louder than anything she could’ve said. You can feel your heart breaking even before the words leave her mouth. You search her face, looking for any sign that she’ll fight for this, for you. But her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and it shatters something inside you.

You feel your chest tighten, a hollow ache settling in your bones. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” She stays quiet, and that’s when you know. You’ve lost her, if you ever really had her at all. You take a deep breath, willing yourself not to cry. Not here. Not now. “Goodbye, Abby.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing alone in the night, her unspoken words hanging in the air.

- 

The days that follow are agonisingly slow. Each one a constant reminder of what you’ve lost, or maybe what you were never allowed to fully have. You still see Abby on campus, at parties, in the dining hall, but it’s like you’ve become invisible to her. She doesn’t look at you. But you know she sees you. You can feel her eyes on you, watching from the shadows.

It hurts. It hurts seeing her, knowing how much you loved her, how much you still love her, and knowing she wasn’t brave enough to love you back in the way you needed.

But you try to move on, forcing yourself to smile, laugh, and go out with your friends. You flirt with new people, let them make you laugh, let them distract you from the ache in your chest. It works for a little while, but at the end of the day, Abby’s absence is a weight you can’t shake.

You miss her.

But you know deep down that you made the right decision. You can’t go back to being hidden. To being something she was too afraid to acknowledge.

-

It’s late, after another party you attended half-heartedly. You’re walking back to your dorm, the night air cool against your skin, when you hear footsteps behind you. The sound is familiar, and your heart sinks.

“Can we talk?” Abby’s voice cuts through the quiet night, and you stop in your tracks.

You don’t turn around immediately, your mind racing with all the things she could say. After a moment, you take a deep breath and turn to face her. “What do you want to talk about?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended, but the hurt is still fresh. She steps closer, and for the first time in weeks, you see her eyes, truly see them. There’s no more hiding behind jokes or silence. There’s just Abby, raw and vulnerable.

“I miss you,” she says, and it’s almost painful how vulnerable she sounds.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “You miss me, or you miss having someone you can sneak around with?”

She winces, and you can tell your words hit her hard. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

She takes a step closer, her eyes pleading. “I…I didn’t know how to handle it. Being with you, feeling what I feel for you, it scares the hell out of me. I’ve never been good at talking about this stuff, about…who I am.” Her voice wavers, and she takes another breath before continuing. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you by hiding us, but it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I do. I care so much it terrifies me.”

You swallow hard, feeling the familiar tug in your chest. “Then why couldn’t you just-”

“Because I’m scared,” she cuts in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of losing everything, my friends, my family. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You blink, thrown off by her words. “What does that even mean?”

Abby takes another step forward, her eyes pleading. “It means I’m ready to be with you. For real. No more hiding. No more secrets. I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore. I just... I care about you. I need you.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, her words almost too good to be true. You want to believe her, but after all the hurt, you’re not sure you can. “I’ve heard this before,” you whisper, looking away. “What’s different now?” “Because I know what it feels like to lose you,” she says, stepping closer until she’s right in front of you. “And I can’t... I don’t want to live with that anymore. I love you. I’m done hiding.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. She’s standing there, offering you everything you’ve wanted, but part of you wonders if it’s too late.

“I need more than just words, Abby,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “I need you to show me that this time, it’s real.”

“I will,” she promises, her voice steady. “I swear, I’ll show you.”

You look at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, the honesty that wasn’t there before. And maybe, just maybe, she’s telling the truth this time.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[miss-tc-nova]

S/O Inexperienced in Relationships - TWST Housewardens

Not a day has gone by that I haven't been working on this. I'm SO sorry this took so long but I interpreted this in a few different ways and had to decide how I wanted to write it. But it's done!!!

Also, sorry for not using a fem!reader. I've apparently conditioned myself to write around that.

As for the question of my patience, I've answered that here, lol.

Premise: The Prefect is acting a bit odd

Words:

Riddle: 308

Leona: 357

Azul: 296

Kalim: 364

Vil: 351

Idia: 400

Malleus: 362

~~~~~

Riddle

Riddle has started to become suspicious.

You almost seem paranoid—second guessing every single move you make. The foods you choose, the clothes you wear, and apparently even the path you take to class. There is nothing that seems to get the green light the first time around.

At first he lets it go, seeing as it doesn’t interfere with his duties. But as the problem persists, it does begin to interfere in the relationship. This wasn’t a thing before you started dating.

He never thought he’d frown upon fastidiousness, but you checking and double checking that little book of yours has interrupted far too many activities and is beginning to irk him.

So he demands the book only to be stunned at the Queen’s rules written inside.

You had been spending hours upon hours trying to abide the Queen’s rules that Riddle knew by heart.

However, Riddle has recently come to terms with the idea that not everything has to be perfect—that people can just live. So while he admires your dedication to adhere to something he finds important, he’s concerned for your wellbeing.

When he questions why you would go to such lengths for this, you shyly, embarrassedly admit that you were afraid of losing him. You’ve never had many friends, let alone significant others. You didn’t really know what made a strong, enduring relationship.

But you knew the rules were important to him.

Riddle finally understands, warmth bleeding through his chest as a smile pulls at his lips.

“I don’t mind if you know the logistics of a relationship or not. What matters is that we build this one together. And while I admire your dedication to study the Queen’s rules, I would much rather you preserve your health. You’ll learn them in due time. Until then, please, just be yourself—my beautiful rose.”

~~~~~

Leona

Leona’s ire is growing.

This is not what he thought your relationship would be like.

Sure, he didn’t expect you to be throwing yourself at his lap or hanging off him, but to not even smile when he approaches you? If he didn’t know better, he’d say you weren’t even dating.

He’s starting to go out of his way to get a reaction out of you. Taking things out of your hands and pretending to examine them—sometimes returning them, sometimes not. Leaning against you, and if you manage to resist, he’ll just go limp until you crumple beneath his weight.

In some rare occasions, if you’re having a conversation with someone, he’ll just pick you up and walk off. Honestly, he’s impressed you haven’t snapped at him yet.

Eventually, while your attention is focused on studying, Leona snaps. He snatches the book from your hand and hurls it over the balcony of his room, leaving you stunned.

When you ask if he’s okay, he turns the question back on you. When you insist that there’s nothing wrong, he demands to know if you regret agreeing to go out with him.

Denying that accusation is not enough as Leona persists that you “don’t act like it.” Your retort turns out to be that you don’t know how to “act like it.”

His confusion finally gives you a moment to explain. You never had many relationships with anyone, including romantic kinds, so you have no idea what you’re doing in this relationship. All you really know is that Leona isn’t into clingy types so you tried your best to be the opposite.

It takes Leona a moment to soak in the information before he promptly tells you that you’re an idiot through a smirk.

“Look, I can’t say I’m a relationship expert but do what you want. Pretendin’ to be someone you think makes me happy is just stupid. And clearly not workin’ for ya, so you might as well go back to bein’ that person I asked out in the botanical gardens. Now get over here. We’re takin’ a nap. No, you can get your book later.”

~~~~~

Azul

Azul regrets his decision.

At first, he thought having you take on some of his responsibilities was a great idea. He didn’t even ask you to; you volunteered.

You can easily run the Lounge in his absence, scheduling shifts, obtaining stock, and whatever else that needed doing. Hell, he even trusts you to facilitate contracts on his behalf.

He’s thrilled to have the free time to look into new ventures.

Except, with all this free time, he starts to notice that you have none.

You’re always on the move, always writing, always busy. And it seems to be taking its toll. You look tired, the spark in your eyes gone.

Regret sinks in, mostly because he can’t remember the last time the two of you actually spent time together.

It takes several attempts to pry you away from your work to finally talk and Azul starts right off with reducing your workload. When you refuse, he persists, his suspicion growing until he finally asks why you’re being so stubborn.

You crack. The last thing you want is to lose him because you aren’t good enough. Friends, let alone partners, aren’t something you understand very well for lack of experience. Without that knowledge, you concluded that becoming as useful as you could was best.

A smile tugs at his lips as the man pulls you into his arms.

“My darling, I promise I’ll be just fine running things without you. But more importantly, I promise that nothing will change between us. And while most may find experience advantageous, I think I more enjoy the idea of us learning to be together, together. Now, I’ve taken the liberty of clearing both our schedules for the day. And I would enjoy nothing more than to spend it with you.”

~~~~~

Kalim

Kalim is…confused.

He loves you and he is absolutely basking in all the affection you shower him with.

But it doesn’t feel like you anymore.

Shortly after you began dating, you began fawning over him at every opportunity. Your arms were always wrapped around him and you always kissed his face when entering or leaving his presence.

The thing that really clued Kalim in to something being wrong was the constant smile on your face. You had a beautiful smile when it was genuine. But this smile is forced.

On top of that, you aren’t the kind of person to be this overly affectionate. It must be draining to keep up such an energetic façade. And the last thing Kalim wants is for someone close to him to pretend to be someone they’re not.

He mulls over how to ask you about something that you might find sensitive.

Then he catches you without your mask. You look tired and anxious. And he can’t hold it in anymore.

Ignoring your smile, Kalim gets to the point, asking point blank what’s wrong.

You deny at first, but he begs you not to lie to him. He cares too much and, after what happened with Jamil, he refuses to let someone else suffer in silence if there’s anything he can do.

So you tell him. You tell him that you were pretty much alone in your world, no friends or romantic partners. You don’t know how to act or what’s expected; you’re even more lost when it comes to dating a freaking prince. You can’t offer anything that he didn’t already have. All you have are your feelings for him.

Hearing your worries, Kalim drags you into his arms. Of course he’s happy that you would shower him with love, but he wants the real you, all the time.

“Mmm, I don’t really know what romantic relationships are like either. But I don’t think it really matters. It’s okay to not be happy all the time. I mean, I love seeing you smile, but I love you no matter how you feel. So please don’t pretend just for me. Oh, there it is—the most beautiful smile.”

~~~~~

Vil

Vil holds his tongue a bit too long.

Initially, he’s impressed by the sudden, significant effort you put into your health and appearance.

This included morning workouts, tracking every meal and drink, and spending hours making sure you look perfect for the day. Not a hair out of place nor a frayed hem—all the best you could do with what you had.

And Vil encouraged you. Yes, he noticed that you weren’t exactly thrilled with the new regime, but no one really is in the beginning. But he wanted to support you.

Yet the longer he observes your efforts, the more he realizes that this attempt to “better” yourself is having the opposite effect.

Sure, you’re more glam, but your emotional state hasn’t improved. In fact, you seem exhausted. You smile and act bright, but a true actor could see through it. He’s ashamed he let it get this far.

But he’s not letting it continue.

He catches you on the way to your next workout and gets to the point, asking why the sudden uptake of your rigorous routine.

You tell him you’d always meant to be healthier and just never had the motivation to. So he retorts asking what this new motivation might be.

This is where you hesitate, growing embarrassed. Vil’s gentle insistence coaxes your worries into the open. You were a loner in your home world so you have no idea how you managed to catch the eye of one of Twisted Wonderland’s biggest celebrities.

You gush about how perfect Vil is but you’re just you. You’re terrified to lose him, so all you could think to do is adopt Vil’s way of life.

A soft laughter escapes him as he presses a kiss to your head.

“While I admire your efforts to emulate my lifestyle, the last thing I want is for you to be miserable every day. You can make little changes; I’ll support your every step. But even if you don’t, you’re still perfect. And who has a better eye for perfection than I do? That’s right. You are my perfect, little gem..”

~~~~~

Idia

Idia may have missed his cue.

A new patch released on one of his games, so of course he was lost to the world.

Throughout the whole thing, you kept quiet, never interrupting his game as he spent endless hours hunched over his keyboard.

However, the moment that end credit scene concludes, the young man sits straight, rubs his eyes, and immediately notices a distinct lack of you.

Ortho informs him that you haven’t been around for a few days. Seeing as you spent nearly all your free time with Idia since you two started dating, that sounds suspicious.

When his messages receive no reply, he forces himself to trudge out of the dorm for the only person he’d brave society for.

In Ramshackle, he finds you doing homework. But as he opens his mouth to tell you about his fantastical adventure, he stops himself. Even as you look up at him, your mouth is shut, but even more, you look sad.

Awkward as hell, Idia sits beside you. He’s grateful for your courtesy of letting him enjoy his game, but even he admits that ignoring you was rude.

So he asks why you didn’t interrupt him.

Your shoulders shrug. Idia had been excited for this expansion. You’d never been in a relationship before, but it felt wrong to rain on his fun. Besides, you were used to being alone so you didn’t see a difference.

He stares, lips twisted shut. Then he stands and leaves, marching straight back to his dorm where he gets to work for the better part of two days—including shipping.

Then he returns to drag you back to Ignihyde. His cluttered room is a little more so—filled with empty boxes and wrappers. But right next to his desk is another, set up very similarly. Meanwhile, Idia himself fidgets, a tint of pink on his face.

“So, yeah, I was a major jerk for going AWOL and I totally deserve to be reemed. But I’d totally take being interrupted over tanking our relationship. ‘Sides, the OG you is way more valuable than any platinum. I know! Cringe! But, if you’re interested, maybe we can just party up instead? Yeah, it’s got the latest specs and I already downloaded the best RPG so we can play together. No worries, let Gloomurai show you how to stomp those other noobs! Why are you laughing? Oh geeze.”

~~~~~

Malleus

Malleus can tell there’s something, but isn’t entirely sure what.

The shift was minute, the slow withdraw.

All was as it should be when your relationship began. Malleus could not have been happier.

Then the creases worked their way across your face. Sure, you smiled with Malleus, but when conversation lulled, it vanished and your eyes turn downcast.

You always seemed lost in whatever concerns occupied your mind and, soon enough, even Malleus couldn’t regain your attention very easily.

Inevitably, he gains some clue when a song of praises of the great heir come exploding from Sebek’s mouth. As the freshman demeans another student for some trifling reason, the dragon distinctly notes your aura recoil. The floor has your attention and you’ve never looked so uneasy.

This worries him. All his life people had kept their distance, but to have the love of his life do so as well—he’s not sure he could stand it.

So the prince bides his time, waiting for a moment of privacy before his fear becomes unbearable. And with a heavy heart, he asks if his status has finally gotten to you.

You bashfully admit that it might have and he feels his heart cracking.

But you continue. Your experience in relationships is miniscule. You’ve only just begun to learn what it means to have friends but in romance your knowledge is woefully non-existent. The thought of maybe one day needing to lead a whole kingdom of people is terrifying. What if you mess it up?

Word by word, Malleus begins to realize that this isn’t about him or his status. He scorns himself for thinking you would care about that; nevertheless, it does ease his own worries.

Because he has nothing but faith in you.

“After everything that’s happened, it’s peculiar that you worry about such things. I may not be well versed in relationships myself, but I’m not concerned with whether or not you’re good for my kingdom. You’re good for me—perfect just as you are. And together we’ll learn and be an example of what it truly means to care for one another. Mm? Are you blushing? Was it something I said?”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[hellodarling1357]

Can i ask for Cassian x reader fic where the reader becomes friends with Bryaxis?👀

Like someday she decides to go down to the lower part of the library and meet the monster everyone is so afraid of... and finds Bryaxis, silly guy who just wants some friend to talk to. And the reader begins to visit him from time to time, chatting nicely and just having a good time

And poor Cassian so stressed out with these two😮‍💨

Friend and Foe

Hello!! Thank you for sending me this request, it was so much fun to write!! Sorry it took me so long but hopefully the Domestic Cassian makes up for it, we love a man who can cook 🥹

Bryaxis really is just a silly, goofy guy

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

After being mated for all of two months, Cassian had basically begged you to move into the House of Wind with him. It really hadn’t taken much convincing, especially after Rhysand had ensured you that you wouldn’t be imposing.

So the very next day, your belongings were all packed, Rhys using his magic to move them for you, and Cassian was helping you do a final sweep over your old apartment, barely containing his excitement as he reassured you, yet again, that everything was sorted.

“Okay, I think I’m good. Ready to go?” You asked with a final glance around the room.

Cassian, who had given up on trying to convince you to stop fussing and had instead decided to sit on the floor by the window, jumped up with a broad grin stretched across his face.

“About time.” He teased, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, your forehead, then your nose, before wrapping an arm around your waist as he led you outside.

As soon as you had locked the door behind you, Cassian was scooping you into his arms and leaping into the sky, flying you towards your new home.

*****

You had been to the House of Wind multiple times, but this time felt different; you weren’t going there to visit Cassian, you were going there to live with him, to start your life with him.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, pressing kisses along it as he tightened his grip on you, quickly approaching the balcony that jutted out of the mountain.

Upon landing, you prepared yourself for Cassian to place you back on your feet. Instead, he shot you another wide grin and walked towards the balcony doors with you still in his arms, not letting you down until you had crossed the threshold.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He softly said before pulling you in for a kiss.

You smiled against his lips, realisation finally hitting that this would be your everyday from now on, the thought causing you to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him further down to you.

“Now, please remember,” Rhysand’s voice drawled, “this is still a shared space.”

You broke away from your mate, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, but Cassian simply looked annoyed at the interruption.

Giving him a sheepish smile you, for the hundredth time, thanked Rhys for letting you move in.

“Don’t mention it, it’ll be good to have you around.” He brushed off as Azriel entered the room.

“Especially if it means we no longer have to listen to Cassian complaining about how much he misses you, how far away you are, how—” But the Shadowsinger was cut off by Cassian throwing a book at his head and shooting him a glare.

You grinned at them all and laughed alongside Rhys, surprised at how quickly you had grown comfortable around Cassian’s brothers after only really meeting them a few weeks ago.

“Anyway,” Rhys interrupted, picking up on the taunt that was seconds from escaping Azriel’s lips, “We were just heading off. Figured we’d give you the night to…settle in”

With a wink at you and a teasing ruffle of Cassian’s hair, the two males made their way out towards the balcony before flapping their wings and heading towards Velaris.

“So…” Cassian started, eyeing you with an intensity that you had first seen after accepting the bond. “Where should we start?”

You knew he wasn’t talking about unpacking.

*****

It had been three months since you had moved into the House of Wind. Cassian had made space in his room for all of your belongings and the two of you had set out redecorating it together to make a space of your own.

You had fallen into a routine, not just with Cassian, but with Azriel as well.

Your mate had decided to take it upon himself to set up a training and defence program for you. But, when he first caught sight of you in your skintight Illyrian leathers, he had quickly decided it wouldn’t be the most productive use of your time and had handed the task over to Azriel instead; although, not before muttering to keep your leathers on for later, with a wink and a pat on your ass as he sauntered back inside.

You had also grown a lot closer to the rest of the Inner Circle, finding that there was always someone floating around if Cassian was away.

Now, however, you slumped into one of the plump armchairs and let out a sigh. Cassian and Azriel were both away checking in on the Illyrian war camps, Mor and Rhys were at the Hewn City, and Amren… you weren’t entirely comfortable spending time alone with her just yet.

Deciding you couldn’t spend another day aimlessly roaming around the house, you made your way towards the library that was built into the mountain.

You had dragged Cassian there after first moving in, spending hours marvelling at all of the books whilst your mate trailed after you, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else. You, however, happily let him follow along, handing him book after book to carry for you with a cheeky grin that he couldn’t say no to.

This visit, however, had you wanting to explore the deeper parts of the library, with a sudden desire to browse through some of the ancient texts that you hadn’t had the chance to peruse yet.

The further down you went, the more intrigued you were by the seemingly never ending darkness that spiraled into the depths of the library.

Whether it was out of boredom or pure curiosity, you pulled one of the swinging lanterns from the wall and let it guide you through the inky black space, the lights from further up growing smaller and smaller with every step, the shelves of books coated in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

Despite the silence and the darkness of the unknown space, you felt at ease as you reached, what you could only assume to be, the bottom of the black pit.

Edging further into the space, the light coming from your lantern begun to flicker and you tensed at the sudden rustle of movement from behind you.

“Hello?” You cautiously called out, stretching the lantern further out to illuminate more of the room. Straining your ears, you listened closely for the slightest sound of movement, instead, however, a small cluttering sound bounced across the floor and ended by your feet.

Looking down you saw the small stone that had been thrown from the darkest corner of the space. Not quite knowing what to do, you slowly leant down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands a few times as you squinted into the darkness.

There was another quiet rustling noise and then another stone came into view, stopping where the other one had landed.

You picked this one up as well, your expression a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. With a quiet laugh to yourself, you gracefully threw the first stone back into the corner, watching it bounce across the floor before disappearing into the darkness.

A pleased sounding gasp of excitement filled the space around you and then the stone was bouncing back towards you in a hurried manner. You were smiling now, throwing both stones back and waiting with anticipation before they were sent your way again.

Still feeling unsure about playing this game with a creature shadowed by darkness, but not being one to question the weirdness that seemed to live within the Night Court, you sat cross legged on the ground and continued to bounce the stones back and forth.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You said into the darkness, feeling somewhat silly and not expecting the reply that followed.

“I know. I’m Bryaxis.” The chilling voice of the darkness replied.

*****

After that initial trip to the pit of the library, you found yourself heading down there at least once a week. You continued your game of throwing the stones back and forth but as the visits built up you found yourself asking questions about the creature and, in return, he provided you with a deep insight into the long forgotten histories of the world.

Walking back into the House of Wind after one of your library trips, you were surprised to find Cassian in the kitchen surrounded by numerous pots and pans and piles of food.

“Hi,” You greeted excitedly, leaning up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re back? I thought you wouldn’t be home for another few days. And you’re cooking?”

Hand still holding a wooden spoon, Cassian turned to face you, his other hand cupping your cheek as he lent down for a kiss.

“Hi,” He said against your lips. “Az took over for me,” Another kiss as he backed you against the counter. “Thought I would surprise you.”

You hummed against him, content in letting him wrap his free arm around your waist as he hoisted you onto the kitchen bench, legs coming up to wrap around his waist as you deepened the kiss and knotted your hands through his hair.

A sudden hissing sound had Cassian jumping back and turning in horror as the pot of boiling water started to splatter out across the stove.

“Where were you, anyway? You weren’t here when I got back.”

Content to have your mate beside you again, you absentmindedly swung your feet as you helped yourself to the pile of cut carrots he had set aside.

“Down in the library.” You answered between mouthfuls.

“Oh?”

You dipped the carrot into the bowl of a sauce looking substance, deciding you liked it and going back for seconds. Cassian, noticing this, flicked your nose and moved the sauce out of reach.

“That’s for later.”

You poked your tongue out as you jumped off the bench and moved to stand next to him as he stirred the still sizzling pot.

“Yeah, it’s a bit weird. A few weeks ago when you were away I got bored and wanted to explore the library a bit more,” Cassian turned his back so you helped yourself to whatever was simmering on the stove, earning your nose another flick and a sound of mock outrage from your mate.

“Anyway,” You continued as you lent against the bench, content in watching him cool for you. “I got right down to the bottom of the pit and met this creature,” You weren’t really sure how to describe your newfound friend, you had never actually seen his true form. “And we’ve sort of become friends, I guess?”

You laughed at the silliness of how it sounded, not noticing how Cassian tensed. “You never mentioned anyone else living in the library, his name is—“

“Bryaxis.” Cassian interjected, looking at you with an expression of horror and concern.

“Yes, that’s him” You said excitedly, still missing your mate’s distress.

“Y/N,” Cassian took your hands in his trembling ones and looked over you as though checking for any signs of harm. “Please tell me you’re joking. Did Rhys set you up?”

You stared back, surprised by his response, “Cass? What’s wrong?” But he didn’t seem to hear you.

“Have you seen him? Are you hurt? Y/N, how long has this been going on?”

“I’m fine? And no, he always stays in the dark. Why are you freaking out?”

But Cassian couldn’t answer, simply pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face in your hair.

“Promise me you won’t go back.”

“Love, you’re starting to scare me—“

“Y/N, I need you to swear it to me. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was going on…” He trailed off, the haunted gleam still present in his eyes.

You were stunned by his reaction, not once had you seen Cassian acting so spooked. Sure, he tended to get a bit possessive around other males but this was entirely different, he seemed completely and utterly fearful of the thought of you being in Bryaxis’ presence.

“What happened? He’s never done anything to cause me harm. We just sit and talk and throw stones back and forth… Is there a reason he’s down there?” Maybe you had missed something, and Bryaxis was, in fact, some sort of monster.

Cassian pulled back, still somewhat wary but you could feel the tension leave his body.

“No, he’s always just been there. I had… an encounter with him, years ago—“

“Did he do something to you?” You cut in with concern.

“No, but… You said you haven’t seen him?”

You shook your head, still at a loss for what had brought all of this on.

“Good. Good,” Cassian muttered to himself now, turning back to finish dinner. You silently got some plates out for him to serve up and opened a bottle of wine, still watching your mate from the corner of your eye.

*****

You were both sat at the table but Cassian couldn’t seem to bring himself to eat, merely pushing his food around on his plate.

With a sigh, he looked up at you, “Y/N, you know I’d never usually ask this of you, and be so…,” He trailed off, swirling his wine before taking a sip. “Please, I really don’t want you going back down there.”

Now it was your turn to sigh, putting your fork down as you reached out to grasp his hand.

“How about this, you come down there with me—,” Cassian started to interject but you gave him a warning look to let you finish. “You come down there with me. You can see that he’s not this monster you seem to think he is, and if not, then we’ll talk about it. But I’m not just going to stop visiting, as weird as it sounds, he’s my friend.”

Cassian knew there would be no changing your mind on this, so with a grimace of a smile he reluctantly agreed, sighing at the beam of a smile that lit up your face.

*****

It had taken weeks to get Cassian back into the library, and not for a lack of trying on your part. Whenever you were both not doing anything, you would suggest heading down there. And every time you did, Cassian would suddenly have something he needed to do, or would mercilessly distract you and leave the library as a long forgotten thought in your mind.

This time was going to be different, you refused to let him weasel out of it again.

“Love, what’re you doing right now?” You innocently asked as you sat yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” You expected as much, especially when he lent in and trailed lingering kisses along your neck.

“Good,” You stood up, pulling him with you. “Come with me.”

Your conspiratorial grin had Cassian thinking your mind was on something else, so he eagerly followed after you, pausing when you walked in the opposite direction of your bedroom.

“Sweetheart…?” You just walked back to him, holding his hand and dragging him alongside you.

Once you got to the library entrance, it finally clicked what you were doing.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Cassian.” You said but he was slowly taking backwards steps away from the library door.

“I just remembered, Rhys needed me to—“

“No he doesn’t. I already checked.”

The frantic panic in his eyes had you almost feeling bad about deceiving him. Almost being the key word.

“Cassian,” The commanding tone of your voice had him stopping in his tracks. “If you don’t come down there with me, right now, then there’s no more sex.”

He gave you an unconvinced look, clearly thinking he was calling your bluff.

“I’m serious. This has gone on long enough. No more sex until you go down there. In fact, I’m staying at the town house until it’s done.”

Cassian stared you down with a torn expression of frustration and disbelief. You stared right back, letting out a sigh of relief as you watched determination spread over his face.

“Fine,” He was a man on a mission, marching towards the library and grabbing your hand in his as he walked by to keep you at his side. “Let’s get this over with.”

*****

You didn’t even try to stop your delighted grin as you headed down into the deepest depths of the library.

As the lights flickered and as darkness started to surround you both, you felt Cassian beginning to tense and slow his pace. Refusing to let him change his mind, you sent a wave of emotions down the bond that told him exactly what he would be missing if he bailed on you now. Cassian squeezed your hand in response, his steps picking up as you reached the bottom of the pit.

“Bryaxis?” You called out, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles over Cassian’s hand when you felt him tense up beside you.

There was movement to your left and then the lamp you had brought down with you flickered out. You could feel something curling around you, flicking your hair in a playful manner, causing you to smile. This was going to be fine.

You turned to Cassian to tell him as such, but the chilling voice that you had since grown accustomed to spoke up in a rasp.

“I didn’t think I would be seeing you again. Not after last time, Lord of Bloodshed.”

You sensed, more than saw, your friend move around your mate and that seemed to be too much for Cassian.

“No. No, Y/N, we’re done here.” And then he was holding onto your hand as though his life depended on it and bolted back towards the stairs.

Your confused laugh sounded out and was met by the amused laugh of Bryaxis swirling through the darkness.

“I’ll see you soon, friend.” His voice followed after you, all traces of the harrowing rasp he had used on Cassian was replaced by a genuine fondness.

“I won’t bring him next time,” You replied in farewell, gesturing towards your mate who was frantically trying to drag you away.

Cassian let out a groan. He knew there was nothing he could do to convince you to never come back down here. You gave his hand a reassuring pat, sending a wave of gratitude and love down the bond. You didn’t know what had happened between Cassian and Bryaxis during their last encounter, but at least your mate had tried to face him for you.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— old dog, new tricks

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!werewolf!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, slight petplay, deragadation, topping from the bottom, strapon referred to as cock, wednesday is STILL a sadist, all characters are aged-up

summary: the control wednesday has over you is frustrating. you're put back in your place the second you try to rebel

word count: 2.5k

“So yeah, since the Furs are gonna be the ones hosting the party, every wolf gets to bring a plus one. There’d be enough of us as it is, we should keep it low. The last time they held a gathering, it ended up... badly,” Enid refrains from going into details, which most likely involved a lot of destroyed furniture and saliva, clearing her throat as she slurps on her orange juice, leaning forward in her seat to gauge your reaction, “It’s free alcohol though! Courtesy of the Scales, so we have to let them in, too.”

Wednesday is sitting next to you, her hands clasped together on her knees, the plate in front of her already clean by the end of the lunch break. Her face is unreadable – but you grin, the thought of having drinks in a nice company of fellow werewolves providing a surge of enthusiasm to finish the school day.

“Sure– “

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to join you, Enid. (Y/n) and I have business for tonight.”

The toothpick you clench in your mouth almost snaps in half.

Enid raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you, but nods, seeming to take Wednesday’s words as final. It vexes you even further.

The ravenette doesn’t let you say another word. She dabs at her lips with a tissue, caringly grabs both of your trays and walks off. The werewolf’s sky-blue eyes meet yours – she looks like she wants to say something, but the irk in your gaze serves as a good enough warning, and she keeps her mouth shut.

A sigh mixed with an exasperated groan leaves your mouth, and you get up to follow your girlfriend, now staring holes into the back of her head instead.

Recess is over, and with it goes your faux relaxed attitude – you sit with your arms crossed, your knee jumping in an annoyed tick as you stare unblinking at your biology book, almost burning through the paper with your glare. Ajax, who’s unfortunate enough to have to share a desk with you, cowers at the angry aura you induce, the snakes of his hair peeking from under his beanie cautiously.

When your last period ends, you pack your bag hastily and throw it over your shoulder before all but storming out of the class. As you walk through the corridor, you notice Xavier out of the corner of your eye, the brunet artist falling in step with you. When he absentmindedly asks if you’re coming to the party tonight, it takes you all of your willpower not to punch him in the jaw.

The door is slammed behind you as you enter your dorm, your nostrils flaring.

You’re mad. And now that the party is totally out of the question, you need a different way to let out steam.

You don’t waste your time undressing yourself, opting to change for something easy to dispose of and claw into, before you reach for the nightstand, opening the bottom drawer.

The toy inside holds a lot of rather pleasant memories – of Wednesday bending you over the balcony railing, of her driving her hips into you as you all but begged her to fuck you right on the floor of your dorm.

Well. Werewolf heats are known for their feverous intensity. Howling isn’t the only reason one should wear muffled headphones with wolves around.

You grab the silicone toy, quickly tightening the straps around your waist, which surprisingly comes rather natural and makes you wonder why the hell you haven’t thought of doing this before, then tug on a pair of grey sweatpants over the strap-on, glancing at the clock – you still have a few minutes before Wednesday comes back.

You give yourself a once-over in the mirror. The shirt’s neckline is hanging just above your breasts, exposing your collarbones, your hair is disheveled with all the exasperated running your fingers through it you’ve been doing, and the outline of the silicone cock is pretty much visible through your pants. Exactly what you were going for.

The faint sound of footsteps reaches your sensitive ears, and it’s a pattern you recognize easily by now – you step away from the mirror to sit back on the bed just in time with the door creaking open.

“Business?” You mutter instead of a greeting. “I didn’t know we had plans.”

Wednesday freezes in the doorway, eyeing you. Her gaze drops to your pants, and a small, barely noticeable smirk makes its way to her pretty plump lips before its gone like it was a mirage.

“Why, don’t you just sound so eager to spend time with your significant other,” the ravenette deadpans sarcastically, walking over to her desk to abandon her backpack there, her lithe fingers working to undo the buttons of her uniform blazer – slowly, deliberately, the same way she drags her words out as she speaks, completely unbothered, “Would you really rather prefer a... frat party with a bunch of uncivilized mutts?”

She turns to look at you, misty eyes shining with a challenging glint.

“Addictions run in the family. Along with my last name I happen to bear a habit of drinking my stress away,” the mattress creaks in protest as you get up, step closer to Wednesday so that you’re towering over her smaller frame, “That, and valuing my freedom and independency.”

Wednesday doesn’t look intimidated in the least. She looks up at you, her eyebrows raised slightly, “But I can’t really help it. You’ve always been like this – so pliant and submissive,” the girl takes her blazer off, draping it over the back of her chair, never breaking eye contact with you, “It’s just so... entertaining to order you around sometimes, knowing you’d follow every single one of my commands.”

You grit your teeth at her words, partially from irritation, partially because they’re true – Wednesday has had you wrapped around her finger from the first day you met her, and it was a given you’d be so smitten to submit to her every whim. The ravenette’s influence on you is omnipotent.

And now, you’re not sure where it’s coming from, but there’s hot, rebellious fire burning in your chest, and the young woman in front of you is the spark responsible.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Oh? Is my perception wrong, then?”

Wednesday steps closer, her chin raised slightly, and before you know it you’re backing down to your shared bed, the backs of your knees hitting the wooden frame.

“Am I wrong? You’re not my pet, then?” She asks again, “Can you prove it? Can you make me shut up and take it?”

Suddenly you remember what your original plan was supposed to be. You mentally facepalm yourself – Wednesday’s been in the room for less than five minutes, yet you already feel the remains of your pride and resolve crumbling apart and proving her right.

Frustrated, your grasp at her hips, your talons coming out at your exasperation, tearing into her skirt, and turn the small girl around, pressing your mouth to hers hotly.

In a few moments you’re a mess of tangled limbs on the bed, Wednesday’s hands sliding towards the waistband of your pants to slide them down, the cool silicone of the toy pressing against her clothed cunt.

You pull back slightly, hovering over her, your claws catching at the lace of her panties, and it takes you a minute to tear them away – your hands are practically shaking with anger and anticipation. You don’t bother with the skirt, flipping it away for easy access, and Wednesday parts her thighs gently, your gaze subconsciously trailing down to the supple pale skin of her lower body.

Jesus, you want to bruise it so badly.

But no. Not now.

Focus. Focus.

Your hands grab ahold of the plushy flesh, fingers digging in as you part her legs even further, and Wednesday lets out a small sound at the aggressiveness. You’d grin at the small victory of yours, but it’s not really worthy yet – her expression is still unfazed, and you know you’ll have to try harder than that.

Or maybe not, you think as you suppress a chuckle at how positively drenched Wednesday is – of course, you could smell it before you could see the pretty wetness covering the inside of her thighs, and you’re damn sure she knows it, too, judging by the way her jaw tightens before she speaks.

“Do not gloat, dog. That is not your doing.”

Okay, that. That actually makes an angry vein pop on your forehead, the thought of someone else getting Wednesday hot and bothered and gorgeously dripping like this is akin to bothering a hungry animal during its meal.

You align yourself with the beautifully dripping cunt of the small ravenette, pressing your palms into her thighs to keep her still – fuck it, you have to bruise her – and push the tip against the feverish skin, sinking in slowly. You watch her walls wrap around the toy deliciously, the sight almost making you forget the reason for your fury, and an involuntary sigh escapes your mouth as you’re halfway to being sheathed inside Wednesday – the girl herself is silent, except for the wet sound of her pretty pussy taking your fake cock in. You look up to see her watching you with half-lidded eyes. She looks bored.

Her smirk is almost as taunting as her words.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

An irritated huff escapes your nose, fingers digging deeper into her, and in a single sharp thrust you bottom out, your legs pressing flush against the back of her hips.

Wednesday sighs, finally, eyes fluttering shut as all the air is pushed out of her lungs. You wrap your hands around the bottom of her thighs to pull her in as close as possible, and this time you actually grin as the ravenette has to bite back another choked noise, hanging her head back on the pillow and taking a deep inhale.

Then she opens her eyes, meeting yours again. Irritation paints her face at your smug expression.

“Are you getting cocky now, (Y/n)? It was but a mediocre start,” she tuts. “I thought you were going to show me how good you can make me take it. How strong you are.”

Her manicured hand caresses up your bicep, scratching idly.

“Alas, the only thing that’s giving me pleasure right now is telling you you’re not good enough.”

All the thoughts of being gentle and sweet with Wednesday are slapped out of your mind as soon as her words register in your already pussy-drunk brain. With a nearly animalistic snarl you pull out so that the head is barely visible before driving back in, the silicone sinking between her lips, disappearing in a red-hot embrace as you immediately fall into a swift rhythm. Your abdominal muscles contract violently, screaming at you that the pace is too much. Too fast. Too hard.

But you don’t care. You want Wednesday to scream those things.

The ravenette stretches one of her long shapely legs to rest it on your shoulder, the angle pulling you deeper into her with each thrust. You grunt, turn your face to nibble at her ankle through the stocking, making Wednesday shudder.

“You look... angry.” She observes, her words a bit broken, breath stolen by your merciless pounding into her. “Are you angry with me, puppy?”

You growl in response. Her palms reach to cup your face, a condescending smile on her lips.

“For teasing you? Oh, don’t be angry. It is simply the natural way of things. Whatever you do, you will always belong underneath me. Taking me like a good girl. Pretty puppy always wants to be my good girl, doesn’t she?”

You whine, and Wednesday chuckles, satisfied that her words are causing the effect she desired – you melt despite the fact that you’re the one fucking her into the bed, ruining the mattress with how much of her slick is dripping down between your bodies.

“You’re so lucky that I’m letting you do this,” her voice is breathy, and your attention snaps to the way is sounds rather than the words she speaks, “Look at me and say it— Don’t you dare scowl at me.”

Wednesday scolds your bared canines and your furrowed eyebrows, the hold of her palms turning rough on your chin.

“Say thank you. For my letting you be in my cunt right now.”

Her tone sends an array of shivers down your spine – you feel reminded of where your place is supposed to be. It takes some time for you to finally find your voice, your mouth slightly open as you still your hips for a moment, cock buried in Wednesday’s soft heat.

She watches you expectantly. You lean down to press your nose into her shoulder.

“Th... thank you...” You murmur into her neck shakily, hiding your face in embarrassment.

You’ve lost.

The ravenette hums, wraps her legs around you, a gesture of pity and generosity on her part – she knows how much you love it when she does that, the balls of her stocking-clad feet pressing into your back.

“You’re welcome, puppy. Now get back to work.”

Your pace turns slow, meaningful, and Wednesday seems content with the change, her back arching at a particularly strong and deep thrust of your hips, pretty mouth falling open with a breathy sigh, “Oh, mia grande forte cucciola… Trying so hard to make me feel good…”

Her walls flutter around the shaft, her heavy breathing mixing with the obscene sounds of your skin slapping hers.

“Should I cum on you? Should I let you have it just this once?”

At that you perk up, and if you were wolfed out at that moment, you’re pretty sure your tail would be wagging like crazy as you whine a few pathetic ‘please, please’ into her neck.

“I will. I will, amore. But not because of you fucking me so good… Just because I pity you.”

Wednesday brings you closer to her, your chest flush against hers as she tilts her head back, her pussy turning impossibly tight around your cock, a choked moan leaving her burgundy lips, right into your ear, making goosebumps trickle up your neck. You fuck her through her orgasm obediently, wishing you could feel her throbbing around you.

When Wednesday’s hold on you relaxes, your jaw goes slack around her shoulder, her ruined uniform the last thing on your mind as you try to catch your breath.

She sighs with content, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone.

“Good dog.”

There’s no strength left in you to fight the title, so you accept your defeat, leaning most of your body weight onto the small girl and muttering something unintelligible.

“Pull out.” She orders, and you comply, watching as her slick drips down the toy, before the ravenette pushes you back onto the bed, her thighs bracketing your hips. Her warmth against you makes you shudder.

“Now,” her hands reach for the straps, undoing them with masterful precision, “I’m going to reclaim what’s mine.”

The toy is tugged down your legs, and Wednesday licks her lips.

“I hope the ache you’ll feel with every step you take tomorrow reminds you of who you belong to, puppy.”

[helionpegasus]

loml

Cassian x Reader

summary: reader and Cassian had a happy marriage, 'till their love wasn't enough. inspired by loml by taylor swift.

warnings: angst.

words count: 3338

author's note: this is big and sad :)

Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway.

Me and Cassian have been riding on the line between acceptable and an official couple recognized by the priestess and The Mother for a long time. 

I don’t know when exactly it started. It couldbe when we met for the first time on a Day Court Ball, and we both couldn’t hold our laughter after one of the courtiers slipped during the dance. It could be when i spent my first Starfall as a Night Court member, and he told me that he was gonna “Teach me how to properly drink”, but ended with the two of us drunk enough to sleep sitting side by side in the hall of the House of Wind. Or it could be when he arrived of the Illyrian Camps directly to my room and with tear in his eyes, saying that his heart could not handle seeing how children and females were treated there maintaining a stone face.

We embroidered the memories of the time I was away.

The first time we kissed was when I returned home hurt from a mission. Cassian stayed the whole night by my side, telling me things that happened when I was away, or tracing random shapes with his finger on my hand and arm.

“I was scared that we would lose you. I would lose you.” He said almost whispering, like he was telling me a secret.

“You’ll never lose me, Cass.” I said back to him.

I was staring at the window when I felt him pull his hand away. Once I turned my head back, our lips met. It was so gentle. The hands holding my face, and his lips silently asking if he could deepen the kiss or not.

I remember stopping to breath and giggle like two teenagers, just to look at each other with love eyes and start kissing again. And again, and again, the whole night.

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

“You’re not gonna officialize things?” Mor asked one day.

“What do you mean?” Was my answer.

“You and Cassian. Everyone sees the way you look at each other, and we also know that you crossed the “only starring” line. And if you want me to be honest, I think you two would make each other really happy.” The blonde said, bumping her shoulder onto mine. We were having tea while sitting on the House of Wind’s balcony.

“I don’t know… Cassian is a good male, Mor, and I’m not the only one that sees this. I think I’m just afraid, perhaps. Or just too insecure.”

“About what?”

“Maybe I will not be enough for him. He can find someone better, that maybe would match his soul, and I’ll not be able to endure that kind of heartbreak.”

“That sentence is full of maybes. Do you even know how he looks at you?” She asked. “There’s love in his eyes. There’s love in his body language when he’s next to you, and love in every single word he says toward or about you even though ‘love’ is not one of them.” Mor placed my tea cup on the table next to her to hold both my hands with hers. “Don’t waste a chance of happiness just because you’re afraid.”

I felt aglow like this. Never before, and never since

After that talk, it did not take a lot of time for me to build the courage to phrase my feelings to him. And it was a surprise - at least to me - that he felt exactly the same.

If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary

“Did I ever tell you?” Cassian asked me some weeks after we started dating.

“What?” I closed my book to give him my full attention. My legs are still resting in his lap while we are on the couch.

“That I fell in love with you the day we met?” He gave me one of those grims.

“Like those teenage romance books?” I asked, mirroring his smile.

“Yeah. I think it was when one of Beron’s sons asked to dance with you but you said no, and you put him in his place when he tried to talk shit about you.”

“That would have started a war.” He both laugh.

“You are the most incredible female that I know.” His hand squeezed my calf, like he was reassuring his words. “You are smart and so strong. I’m really lucky to have you.”

You and I go from one kiss to getting married

Nervous was too little to what I was feeling at the moment. 

“Your entrance will be in 3 minutes.” Mor said before returning inside.

My hands were sweating, my stomach was hurting and I felt like throwing up. But I didn’t have time to overthink how anxious I was feeling, because within seconds the double doors opened.

It was a small wedding, only close friends invited. My eyes immediately searched for him, and he was beautiful as always.

In the middle of the entrance, my eyes met our friends, and I swear I saw Rhysand shed a tear but he will never admit it.

We both agreed to have a quick ceremony, not having enough patience for something too long or with too much bureaucracy. But the little time was enough for him to say things that will be marked in my heart to the rest of my life.

“People can say that the way that led us towards this moment roamed quite rapidly. But right here, on this day that will be remembered forever by both of us, even though we have hundreds of years after us, I promise to love you ‘till we are nothing more than dust traveling in the universe.”

I couldn’t control the river of tears that I cried hearing his vows. It didn’t take a long time for us to feel a burning sensation on our wrists. The image of a little firefly, so small that it could go unnoticed, but a forever sign to the biggest decision of our lives.

You said I’m the love of your life, about a million times

Our eternal happiness lasted the whole three years. Then Under the Mountain happened.

Who’s gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate?

“Cass, this is a lot for all of us. We’re all scared and worried, but I can’t help you ease your tension or worries if you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” 

We were twenty years into Under the Mountain.

“And could you even understand?” He stormed out.

“I can try.” I answered ignoring how his words felt in my heart.

“Rhysand is my family. And he’s in such a dangerous situation that he prohibited us from reaching him. How could I not feel worried and angry?”

“I know, because I am worried too. But I’m also your family, and you can share with me how you’re feeling, you don’t have to carry this all by yourself. We don’t have to carry this all by ourselves.”

“If we were mates we didn’t have to. We would just feel.”

I couldn’t hide my hurt expression this time. Of course I knew that we were not mates, even though we had a beautiful relationship that everyone claimed would be a Mate one, it’s been almost thirty years that we’ve been together and no bond clicked.

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” His expression softened once he realized what he said. “We don’t have to be mates. It’s really rare after all, and we have a perfect relationship.” He hugged me and I had to hold back tears. “And most importantly, we love each other.”

When your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fake?

Thirty years later we met Feyre.

And everything seemed to be perfectly fine, like the sun before a storm. And I wish my heart was only warning me about the war coming.

And all at once the ink bleeds

Cassian returned from Archeron's house a little air-headed. So I was trying to be really careful on how to approach him with questions about how it went.

“So, everything worked well?” I asked massaging his shoulders trying to ease the tension.

“Yeah, yeah. It was fine I guess, we sent the letter. Why?” His eyes were closed, voice soft.

“Nothing. You just returned, seeming a bit unsettled, so I thought something may have happened.”

I could feel his shoulders tense up again.

“Attor showed up there. I guess that just took us by surprise, but everything ended up fine, don’t worry, sweetheart.”

His response made total sense, so I tried to forget about it. It was a surprising threat, and a long trip flying back home, I thought.

But when we went to the Queens meeting, my heart felt a bit uncertain again.

There was something about how he looked at Nesta, a look that I could not translate. And also how he uncomfortably kept switching his weight to one leg for another everytime she was next to him or even just spoke.

She was certainly capable of saying some hateful words, so I was just thinking that maybe they had a wrong start. At least that was what I was trying to convince myself.

But I felt a hole, like this. Never before and ever since

“She is his mate isn’t she?” I asked Mor when we were alone.

I felt terrible by putting her against the wall, even more after everything that just happened in Hybern. But my heart was hurting too much for an answer.

Mor looked at me with wide eyes, trying to wrap her mind whether to tell me the truth or not.

“What?...”

“I saw the way you looked at her and then between both of them. And I think Cassian also knows, for Mother’s sake, I think already felt. So, please, tell me.”

“Yes… I believe so.”

I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. The hot tears fell down my face. And I wondered if the King’s power also didn’t affect the middle of my chest from how much pain I was feeling at the moment.

I didn’t see Mor kneeling besides me, didn’t feel her arms wrapping around my shoulders, and didn’t hear her comforting words trying to console me at my worst moment. All I felt was pain.

If you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary. What we thought was for all time, was momentary.

The conversation with Cassian was nothing close to easy.

He admitted that he felt the bond the first time he saw her. And once she turned fae it only got stronger.

“Do you want to end things to try to pursue something with her?” It took me a while to be able to ask this. Not only because it hurts, but also ‘cause I couldn’t stop crying.

“No. Definitely not. We’ve been married for fifty four years, I’m not gonna just throw it all in the air. It will be hard to endure the feeling, yes, but we’ll keep our relationship. I love you, and that’s a forever promise.” He grabbed my wrist to caress his finger on the ink that sealed his vows.

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery. Never quite buried.

The next two years were not easy ones.

The plans we had for our future never made out of paper and conversations, because the whole situation never seemed to get better.

When Rhysand and Feyre announced that Nesta was coming to live with us, I felt like all the blood in my body freezed. Mor tried to help with the situation, proposing other ways to deal with her, since she was the only one to know, but her efforts had no success.

And once she started living with us, Cassian’s feelings got harder and harder to hide.

“Did you lose a bet with one of your brothers?” I asked one night. A smile already pulling up my lips at the thought of it.

“No, why?” He seemed confused.

“This one is new.” I traced my finger at the new ink on the end of his spine.

His whole demeanor changed when I said that. And he was quick with putting a shirt to sleep, a thing that he never does.

“What is it for?” I asked, scared for the answer.

“Nothing important.” He said going to bed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You shit-talked me under the table. Talking rings and talking cradles. I wish I could unrecall how we almost had it all.

I quickly got up the couch in our room once Cassian opened the door.

“Hey, are you ok? Rhys told me that you three found a Kelpie, anyone got hurt?”

I rushed in his direction. My eyes scan his body for any scratch.

And then I felt the smell, like a slap in my face, making me stop in my tracks.

“No… No, you didn’t.” I started to go backwards. My vision started to get blurry with tears forming.

“I can explain.”

“Oh, yes.” I said with a sarcastic laugh. “Please explain to me why you had sex with another person while you’re married.”

“Don’t make this even harder for me.”

“Hard for you? Have you ever thought about how hard this situation is for me?” Tears were going down my face copiously. “I gave you an option, Cassian. Two years ago I asked if you would like to end things, for the sake of us both. And you said no, you said that we’ll keep going with our marriage, we had to try. But did you tried?

We had plans, Cass! It’s been fifty six years. We talked about buying our home, having kids! It’s been two years since you said for us to keep going but honestly we just stopped in our tracks.”

“Don’t do this to me. You know how much I wanted a family. You know how much I love you. But do you know how hard it is to fight this feeling? I feel like I’m going mad.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I made myself so open for you to seek your happiness, whether it was with me or not. But today you chose to cheat on me, and that hurts more than if you called to end things.”

Are they second-hand embarrassed that I can’t get off the bed? ‘Cause something counterfeit’s dead

It’s been three weeks since Nyx borned. 

With everything happening no one had time to process what happened properly. Rhys and Feyre immediately offered to let me stay in the River House with them. But I had to find my own way again, and after many days of not leaving my room, I was on my way towards the High Lord’s office.

“Hello, what a relief seeing your face again. How are you feeling?” He asked once I sat on the chair in front of his table.

“A bit better. Still a long way to go, though. How’s your almost a month of being a father?”

“It’s less tiring than doing this office work, I promise.” I laugh at his words, the first one in days. “But Feyre is definitely more tired than me, I try to help her all I can.”

“I came to say goodbye. It’s time for me to go to my own place, I’ll see Feyre after this.”

“Did you find a place in the city? We told you that you could have the Town House.”

“I actually decided to go back to Day Court. I already talked with Helion.” I said and  a shocked expression appeared on Rhysand’s face.

“If you think we’ll pick a side and that you’re not welcome here, you’re completely wrong. You are part of this family.” He says with a serious face.

“It’s nothing of that. I just think that I need some space and time to clear my mind of everything. I’m so grateful for all of you, but I need to do this for myself. I’ll be available for any help you need, though.”

It was legendary. It was momentary. It was unnecessary. Should’ve let it stay buried

Mor wanted us to have our last drink at Rita’s together. So here we are, at one of the tables with our drink in our hands.

“It surprises me that the vows mark stay there.” She said looking at my wrist. I look at it too.

“Love can come in different ways, and he didn’t specify.” We both laugh.

“I don’t think he’ll ever stop loving you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him either.”

“I’m sorry.” She said and I gave her a confused look. “You were right all those years ago, about him finding a soul match.”

“Unfortunately, I was.”

“Why a firefly?”

“I always asked myself this. But now with the outcome, I think it makes sense. Wanna know a fact about fireflies? They only live about 56 days. And our marriage lasted 56 years.”

Oh, what a valiant roar. What a bland goodbye

“Hi.” I said when I saw Cassian make the corner of the living room. “I’ll be quick. Just didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

“Go?” His brows scrunched.

“I’ll go back to Day Court.”

“You don’t have to.” He says surprised. His body came closer like he was ready to stop me.

“I know. I want to. I’ll visit after some time, I have to see Nyx growing up afterall.”

“You have to see everyone. We’re your family.”

I’m combing through the braids of lies. I’ll never leave, nevermind

I was back in Velaris after a whole year. It wasn’t in my plans to stay away for this long. But I really needed the time.

It was Nyx’s birthday party, and I was slightly surprised that the High Lord made it only for the family. I was expecting for the most pampered baby in Prythian to have a whole festival for his first birthday, but his parents clearly had other plans.

“I loved your hair.” I heard someone beside me, and found Elain sitting on the chair next to me in the garden. “You fit the short hair really well.”

“Thanks, I had to cut it. Hair holds memories.” She only smiled at my answer and we kept observing everyone in silence.

“Did Cassian always have been good with kids?” She asked, looking at him playing with Nyx.

“Yeah, he always dreamed of having kids.”

“Well good thing his dreams are coming true, then.”

“I’m sorry?”

She looks at me wide eyed, like she just told the Night Court highest secret.

“You didn’t know? Nesta's pregnant.”

My world spinned for a moment. When I really thought I was over it. Will I ever get over it?

“If you excuse me.” I gave her a fake smile and got up to get inside.

Feyre and Mor must have seen me, because they walked behind me right after I entered the house.

“You didn’t tell me.” I turn to both of them.

“Would you come if we did?” Feyre asked and I couldn’t answer.

“I just… I thought it didn’t hurt anymore.” I started crying. And Mother, how I started hating seeming so vulnerable. “I really need to get over it.”

I felt them both hugging me. A warmth passing from their heart to mine.

“No one expects you to get over more than half a century of memories in such little time.” Mor says.

Our field of dreams engulfed in fire

“Do you think I’ll be able to find something like this again?” I ask but cut them in the middle of their thoughts. “Don’t answer, I’m scared of what it will be.”

The only thing they could do was hug me harder and stay there with me for the whole ten minutes that allowed me to have a weak mind.

And I still see it, until I die. You’re the loss of my life.

[overtake]

⁴⁹⁾ a doorbell sounding in the middle of the night 👀

49 for this prompt list

All things considered, Daniel has a very healthy sleep schedule for a guy that jets off to a new country almost every single week. Someone advised him years ago to implement the same wind-down ritual before bed no matter where he was in the world. Daniel hasn’t always been great about routine — he needs 3 reminders on his phone just to remember his vitamins every morning — but he has this shit down to a science.

He’s three steps in when his night gets thrown for a loop.

He’s carefully moisturized his chronically dry elbows. The corners of his eyes are shiny with wrinkle cream so expensive that even he winces at the price. He’s spritzed the pillow he brings on every trip with a lavender spray. He’s just getting ready to slip under the sheets, throw one leg over a hotel pillow, and drift off to a new episode of his favourite UFC podcast when the little hotel room doorbell rings.

He pauses for a second, then continues to pull back the sheets. Surely someone just has the wrong room.

The stupid doorbell rings again, and he’s pretty sure he audibly groans. He throws his phone on the spot where his body should already be lying and stuffs his feet into the little hotel-provided slippers. He has no one to blame but himself — he forgot to turn on the stupid privacy setting in the room to stop the doorbell from chiming.

He puts on a neutral face, lest it be some poor hotel or team employee forced to deliver him an urgent message, and opens the door.

“Hi, Daniel.”

Max barrels inside. In the 2.5 years they’ve been teammates, his shoulders have slightly widened. He’s still lean, but Daniel can see his body taking on a broader, more adult form, and he uses the slight size advantage to push past Daniel.

“Hello?” Daniel says, confused. Max is a man on a mission. He heads straight to the balcony door, pushes aside the thick blackout curtain and the gauzy ones underneath to unlock the handle and patter onto the small space.

“Can I help you with something?” Daniel asks. He wanders over and peeks his head out, but keeps his nice, clean slippers safely inside. There’s a slight breeze in the night air, and Daniel pulls back inside with a slight shiver.

Max is bent over, picking something up. He’s in a very wrinkled shirt and a pair of shorts that look far too small for him — not size wise, but length wise. Daniel doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much of Max’s pale, white thighs on display, matching the crescent moon in the sky above them.

Max stands up, an object wrapped securely in his hand, and shakes his head violently. If Daniel could see him better, he might hazard a guess that Max is blushing. It makes him want to poke and prod, but he knows Max and knows when he’s open for teasing. Right now, his plush lips are pressed tightly together, arms curled against his chest protectively. Nows not the time to be a dick, even if Max is disrupting his night.

Max walks past him again, not bothering to close the balcony door, when he finally seems to register that this whole interaction is incredibly whack, even for the two of them.

He pauses long enough to examine the room, Daniel’s little slippers, and the tantalizingly untucked sheets.

“Sorry,” he says. The words sound stilted from his mouth, usually reserved for awkward speeches to factory post-crashes. “I’m in the room above yours, and we — I dropped something off the balcony onto yours.”

Daniel drops his gaze to the object in Max’s hands. As fast as Max’s hands successfully move to cover it, Daniel’s seen enough bottles of lube in his time to know what he’s looking at.

“It’s alright.” He gets why Max is blushy and intense right now. He eats up Daniel’s sexapade stories, makes all kinds of lewd jokes, isn’t afraid to jokingly flirt with Daniel and put his hands places he shouldn’t. He’s certainly not a prude. Still, he’s pretty tight-lipped about his own sex life. Daniel doesn’t push where he’s not welcomed, so he leaves well enough alone, but his stomach does a funny little pang at remembering that Max does have a sex life of his own.

There’s some hot girl above them right now, who was probably joking with Max on the balcony and play-wrestling for some lube, letting the joke run so long that the lube went on a whole vacation to Daniel’s balcony. Daniel is usually the only one who lets a bit get so far and so immersive with Max that it causes actual consequences.

“Okay. Well. Goodnight,” Max says. The lube is now secured half under his shirt sleeve, half into the crook of his elbow now, with the label imprinting itself onto his skin.

He pauses again, this time by Daniel’s bedside table, and picks up the pillow spray. He reads the label, all focused and serious, and then spritzes a tiny bit onto his wrist. The droplets are still drying over his blue veins when he brings it to his nose and sniffs.

“That’s nice.” He holds his wrist there for a second, takes a second whiff.

“It’s lavender,” Daniel informs him, for lack of anything else to say in this incredibly bizarre interaction. “Night, Max.”

Max does an awkward little half-wave and closes the door behind him and the tiny shorts that surely can’t belong to him. Daniel would’ve noticed if he wore something like that before.

He lets the interaction sit for a second, then shakes his body loose and turns on the do not disturb button on the doorbell.

Night routine, 2.0, no distractions. He rubs lotion into his elbows. He dots wrinkle cream around his eyes. He puts his finger over the same little nozzle that Max pressed and coats his pillow again.

It’s only after a small breeze ruffles the curtains that he realizes the balcony door is still wide open. He pauses for a half-second by the door when he hears Max’s voice above him, talking to whoever his companion for the night is.

“Can I get you another drink?” Max asks. He sounds — suave, almost. Daniel can only see speckled concrete above him, but he can picture Max standing on it in. He probably has this girl leaned up against the railing, a hand on her hip.

This is definitely intrusive, but Daniel pauses with his hand wrapped around the skinny door handle just long enough to hear the response.

“No, I’m all good. Let’s go inside,” the other voice says. It’s deeper than Daniel expected, almost masculine.

Daniel shuts the door harder than he planned, and a bit of the thin white curtain gets caught in the frame. He leaves it be. He’s not interested in opening up that door again.

He settles into the sterile white sheets, puts his cancelling earbuds in, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

It takes him longer than usual to fall asleep that night. He’s surrounded by too much pillow spray and the pulsing thought that Max is above him right now, smelling traces of lavender while he fucks someone else.

[ripleyresonance]

Picture Imperfect

Rhea Ripley x Ex-girlfriend reader (18+)

Warnings: Smut/mentions of heartbreak/shitty fiance

Summary: Your ex-girlfriend shows up at your engagement party. Will old habits die hard or the wish of a stable life prevail.

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

Everything was perfect.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

The garden sparkled in the evening light, every flowerbed meticulously arranged, the white roses glowing like polished porcelain amidst the reds and pinks. The fountains sprayed high in delicate arcs, catching the light as they crisscrossed above the paths. Staff moved with quiet precision, setting out silverware, fluffing napkins, and positioning signs with swirling letters that promised, “To Happily Ever After.”

You took a steadying breath, hands smoothing over the silk fabric of your dress. This is what you wanted, you reminded yourself. You were doing the right thing, the practical thing, the smart thing. He was the safe choice, the perfect match on paper—the dependable, successful kind of man you could build a future with. The man who made sense.

You glanced up at the balcony, catching sight of your fiancé as he gave you a practiced smile and a wink, a sign that everything was falling into place. That this picture of perfection, this life you’d worked so hard to create, was as flawless as it appeared. A life where you could feel… secure. Settled.

This is what I wanted, you told yourself again, a touch more firmly.

Then, arms slipped around your waist, spinning you around, his face beaming with pride. “Don’t you look stunning, my love?”

You forced a light laugh. “Oh, stop, I’m not even—”

“But look at this,” he interrupted, stepping back to admire his suit, catching his reflection in the nearby glass with a grin. You pasted on a bright smile. “Oh, wow, honey, you look… great!”

You moved to slip your arms around him, wanting to feel that warmth, that connection, something real to reassure you. “You know, we do have an hour to ourselves before guests arrive…” You lowered your voice, pressing a little closer. But he darted back quickly, smoothing his jacket with a practiced, panicked motion. “Careful, babe—you’ll wrinkle the suit!”

You let out a laugh that felt strained, the moment already slipping away. Stay calm. This is the right choice.

“Oh, I just thought—” you started, but he cut you off again.

“Hey, use the time to cover that little pimple, hmm?” he chuckled, tapping his cheek. “Can’t have you looking bad in the family photos.”

The words stung, but you swallowed the hurt. This is good, you reminded yourself, holding back any sign of frustration. This is right. He’s dependable. Reliable. The kind of man who would stay.Or be too afraid to leave. 

You took another deep breath, stepping into the dress you’d chosen for the evening—a soft yellow to complement his gray suit. You turned, catching your reflection, and forced another smile.

This is everything you wanted.

Or at least, everything you’d convinced yourself you needed.

But an hour into the party, and your fiancé was long gone, laughing with old friends and family members. You drifted from conversation to conversation, half-listening to his uncle drone on about property values in Morocco, until you finally spotted your friends, Indi and Candace, laughing at a table tucked in the corner.

“There’s the woman of the hour!” Candace cheered as you reached them.

“In a very… uninspired dress,” Indi teased, sticking her tongue out.

You gave her a playful glare, reaching over to swipe her glass of champagne, taking a hearty sip as she flicked you off with a grin.

“It’s the perfect complement to my fiancé’s designer suit, thank you very much,” you replied dryly.

“Right. And your fiancé is… where?” Candace said, glancing around the crowd, while Indi jokingly ducked to look under the table.

You sighed, the forced smile faltering. “Last I saw him, he left me with Aunt Jen to discuss our ideal number of children…”

“And we’re supposed to be happy for you because…?” Candace arched a brow.

“Because… he’s stable? Because he’s… safe?” you offered, trying to sound sure of it.

Indi leaned forward, taking your hand in hers. “It’s just not like you. You used to be the life of the party—the one dragging us to dive bars at midnight, buying rounds of those awful Jell-O shots. You’d be making out with Rhea in the corner before the night was even halfway over.”

A small, wistful smile tugged at your lips. The memories came rushing back—the late nights, the messy laughs, Rhea’s intense gaze that always felt like it saw straight through to your soul. Even the little things, like dancing barefoot in her tiny apartment, felt like magic.

“We can’t live in the past forever, can we?” you said, clearing your throat, pushing the memories back where they belonged. The ache lingered anyway.

Indi hesitated. “But with Rhea—”

“No Rhea mentions tonight, please.” You shook your head, the words coming out more forcefully than you intended. “We broke up for a reason. She was flying all over, living out her dream. And I was… I was just there.”

“But you were happy,” Indi said quietly, her gaze unwavering.

You tried to muster up a convincing smile. “With Matt, it’s different. All he wants is a clean house and someone by his side. I know he’s not just going to disappear. With Rhea… I never knew if she’d stay.”

Candace sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “But when’s the last time you felt real joy? When’s the last time you let loose, or did something that actually excited you?”

You shrugged, forcing a breezy tone. “Can’t you just be happy for me? For one night?”

The worried look Indi and Candace exchanged only deepened the hollow feeling in your chest. But with a tight smile, you excused yourself, making your way back into the crowd, the pressure of perfection building as you found your fiancé’s cousins. They started telling stories about his college days, and you tried to listen, but the voices of your friends kept echoing in your head.

They were right. The old you would’ve laughed at this garden party, with its perfect decor, its soft violin music, its endless parade of well-heeled guests. The old you would be in some dimly lit bar with Rhea, dancing to blaring rock music, the two of you yelling the lyrics into each other’s faces, laughing until your sides hurt. You could almost feel her hands on your waist, pulling you close, her voice murmuring in your ear, “Just you and me, yeah?”

Those were the days when you barely made rent, working long shifts in a retail job you despised. But somehow, even with all the chaos and uncertainty, you were happy, because she was there. You’d found a home in her arms, even if it was temporary.

You let out a shaky breath, memories tugging at your heart, the last conversation with her replaying in your mind. “I can’t keep asking you to wait for me,” Rhea had said that night, her voice low, eyes sad. “I don’t want to be the reason you feel stuck.”

It had felt like she’d ripped something out of you, but you’d told yourself it was the right thing. You wanted stability, something secure. And here you were, right where you’d imagined you wanted to be.

Hours later, as the garden party went on, you finally found your fiancé, engrossed in a conversation about work and upcoming IPOs. You excused yourself, feeling the need for something stronger than champagne. You headed for the bar, ordering a whiskey sour.

Eyes closed, you took a steadying breath, willing yourself to feel the satisfaction you’d hoped this night would bring.

“Tough day, huh?”

Your eyes flew open, and you turned toward the voice.

There, standing beside Indi, was a familiar figure, broad shoulders, muscular arms, dark hair slightly tousled, and that small, crooked smirk you knew so well.

“Surprise,” Indi said softly, giving you a half-smile, as Rhea’s gaze met yours, unflinching.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in disbelief. This had to be some strange dream. You’d seen Rhea on TV since the breakup, but nothing could have prepared you to see her right here, looking back at you with that familiar warmth in her eyes, like no time had passed at all.

Finally, you managed to choke out, “Indi, can I speak with you…in private?”

Indi gave Rhea a quick, apologetic look before following you a few steps away. The moment you were out of earshot, you hissed, “What the hell, dude!” giving Indi a quick slap on the arm, louder than you intended.

“Don’t hate me!” Indi cringed, raising her hands defensively. “We were out at a bar last week, and I just casually mentioned you were engaged. She practically begged me for the details! And… I may have let it slip about the party,” she mumbled, glancing sheepishly away.

You opened your mouth, ready to let her have it, but stopped short as something sank in. She begged you for details?

Indi’s smile softened, her expression turning a bit sad. “She looked like she was going to burst into tears, if I’m being honest.”

You glanced over your shoulder. There she was, talking with Candace, that easy smile lighting up her face as if she were exactly where she belonged. She was somehow even more striking than you remembered, her frame solid and powerful, the black dress clinging in all the right places. You couldn’t help but remember countless nights when that same dress ended up on your bedroom floor.

Clearing your throat, you whipped back to face Indi, feeling a familiar ache you’d tried so hard to ignore. “And how, exactly, am I supposed to explain to my fiancé that my ex-girlfriend is here?”

Indi smirked, tilting her head toward the far side of the garden, where your fiancé stood, laughing with his friends. “Oh, please. Do you really think he’d even notice if you disappeared for a little while? He looks pretty wrapped up in… himself.”

You chewed your lip, fighting the pull of emotions rising in your chest. From across the garden, Candace caught your eye and gave a subtle, encouraging nod toward Rhea, silently coaxing you to go.

“Fine. Twenty minutes,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could fully think them through. “I’ll talk to Rhea for twenty minutes in the study. If anyone asks where I am, you come and get me.”

Indi’s eyes twinkled with a knowing smile as you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before turning back to Rhea. Candace opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off.

“Twenty minutes. You, me, library. Start walking,” you ordered, keeping your tone steady as you brushed past Rhea toward the house.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhea’s reply was light but carried that touch of mischief, and as she shot a concerned look at Indi and Candace, she fell in step behind you.

You moved quickly through the hallways, keeping your steps silent, glancing back now and then to be sure no one was following. When you finally reached the study, you shut the doors behind you, feeling a surge of emotions you’d kept buried for so long.

The words came out before you could stop them. “Do you think my life is some kind of game? Something you can just drop in on whenever you feel like it?”

Rhea’s eyes widened slightly, but she gave a small chuckle. “I’d never play games with your life, but it seems like maybe you are. You used to love making your Sims suffer for fun, but now you’re doing it to yourself.” She cocked her head toward the door. “Seriously, it’s bad enough you’re getting married, but to that guy? I’m not sure his ego could even fit through that doorway.”

You took a breath, caught between the biting truth in her words and the stability you’d worked so hard to build.

Yeah? And what would you even know about my life now?” you scoffed, arms crossing as you kept your gaze on her. “You left it, remember? And look at you now—you seem pretty happy with things. I even saw your face on a toy in Walmart the other day. Real superstar over here."

Rhea sighed, crossing her arms but keeping her eyes on you, a hint of guilt flickering there. “I’m not here to shit on you. It’s just… none of this feels like you,” she said, her voice softer.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you shot back, but Rhea held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

“I know I’m the one who called things off,” she started, voice catching slightly. “And I know it’s been nearly two years, but… I can’t just stand by and watch someone I love ruin their future like this.” She took a small step closer, as if afraid you’d move away.

“‘Loved,’” you corrected her sharply, deflecting. But she stepped even closer, her hand reaching out to catch yours, her grip firm and familiar.

“Love,” she whispered, voice low, her eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in her gaze made your heart stutter, the sincerity of it so raw, just like the day she’d left you. She held your gaze, and you felt the walls you’d built start to crack.

For a moment, everything felt like it had back then—the nights you’d spent together, laughing, arguing, knowing each other so deeply it hurt. But you forced yourself to pull back, snapping back to the present as you broke free of her hold.

“No… no,” you muttered, stepping around her. “I’m not doing this with you again, Rhea. I can’t. You were my everything, and you walked away.” You felt your voice rising, your frustration and heartbreak bubbling over. “You were my world, Rhea. I would have done anything for you—God, I would’ve moved heaven and earth if you’d asked, no questions asked. But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

Her face softened, her posture almost crumbling as she took in your words, letting them land. “I thought… I thought I was doing what was best for you,” she whispered. “Letting you go, leaving, it wasn’t because you weren’t enough. It was because I loved you enough to think… you deserved more.”

You felt a bitter laugh slip out, even as tears began to blur your vision. “So what’s the plan here, then? You want me to call off my engagement, break off my stable, safe future… for you? Just because you finally figured out what you lost?”

“Please, just… listen.” Rhea’s voice was soft, pleading. “I know I messed up. I know I made the choice for both of us, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But I can’t stand the thought of you spending yours unhappy, pretending it’s enough.”

You shook your head, trying to focus, to keep your heart locked up tight. “Maybe I don’t deserve more. Maybe predictable, maybe… comfortable… maybe that’s enough for me.” But even as you said it, you knew she could hear the crack in your voice.

She stepped forward, hands shaking slightly as they cupped your face. “Look at me. Are you really happy?”

Her question made your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to push her away, but as her thumb brushed against your cheek, something broke inside you. Your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know anymore.”

In that moment, the gap between you felt unbearable. And before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, grabbing her face and pulling her down into a kiss, fierce and hungry, every ounce of anger and heartbreak pouring out. Rhea tensed, stunned, but then her hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, her kiss deepening as if she’d been starved for this as long as you had.

It felt like time had rewound, like everything you’d both lost was suddenly within reach. Her lips tasted of salt and need, her arms strong and steady as they lifted you effortlessly, guiding you back to the desk. She set you down carefully, her forehead pressed to yours as her fingers trailed up your chin, finally tracing the outline of your lips.

“Let me make it up to you,” she murmured, voice rough with emotion, her eyes fixed on you with a seriousness that took your breath away.

Your heart pounded as you traced your fingers along her jaw, memorizing the feeling. “I shouldn’t… this is crazy…”

But she silenced you with another kiss, gentler this time, her fingers tangling in your hair, every touch filled with unspoken promises, like an answer to the questions you’d buried. And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back.

You parted your lips slowly, allowing her fingers to slip inside, and without thinking, your tongue moved over them, instinctively savoring the warmth of her touch. You held her gaze the entire time, knowing exactly what it did to her—that flicker of excitement and the way her lip caught between her teeth, barely containing a smile as she watched you.

A slow, unspoken tension passed between you, thickening the air, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than they needed to. The intensity in her eyes was impossible to ignore, dark with longing, as though the world beyond this moment had ceased to matter entirely.

“You’re always such a good girl for me huh.” Rhea smirked removing her fingers. 

“And I’m so sorry I left you aching for so long.” Rhea said starting to move the silk up your thigh with her other hand making you gasp. 

“Ill make sure to..thoughouly appologize.’ Rhea said slipping the wet fingers under your panties. 

You cursed under your breath leaning back and arching your back a little pushing out your breast. 

“I should have known you would be wet for me. No matter how much time has passed. No matter who your with. This will always be my…fucking…cunt.” Rhea said pressing harder into your clit making you moan. 

She continued slowly rubbing up and down your slit making small circles on your clit she knew drove you crazy. 

“You fucking asshole..please-oh my god.” you groaned as she pushed them into your entrance. Your pussy molding to her fingers like it was a habbit as you groaned and squirmed under her grasp. 

“Cmon sweetheart let out those pretty moans for me I can tell your close. Cum on my fingers just like you used to.” Rhea encouraged picking up the pace and pushing  you over the edge. 

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Rhea’s hand found the slit in her dress, sweeping it aside with practiced ease. In one fluid movement, she dropped to her knees before you, lifting your leg over her shoulder with a confidence that made your pulse race. Her eyes flicked up to yours, a silent promise passing between you, deep and familiar.

“Rhe wait it’s to sensitive I- fuck!” you yelped as her tounge danced across your clit. 

“Cmon baby I know you can give me one more. I could hear you moan all day.” Rhea groaned pressing her lips against your clit and taking it in her mouth. 

The instant her mouth met you, a shockwave rippled through your body, forcing you to arch back as a raw, unfiltered moan escaped your lips. Your hand flew to her hair, tangling in the soft, dark strands, and you felt the cold press of your engagement ring catch, glinting there as if it were a witness to the undeniable pull between you. The weight of that ring—the promise it held to someone else—should have felt wrong, but as her grip tightened on your thigh and she took you deeper, it only made this feel more inevitable, more electric, like a secret you’d longed to surrender to.

Shame should have washed over you, but all you felt was a raw, unapologetic hunger. You’d never thought you’d find yourself on this side of betrayal, but here you were, and the way Rhea moved, the way she knew every unspoken part of you, eclipsed anything you’d felt in years. This wasn’t something you could walk away from—no, not now.

The sloppy erotic sounds between your legs filled the room, blending with your own ragged breaths. When her eyes met yours, a flicker of something deep, an understanding you hadn’t felt with anyone else, you could feel yourself spiraling toward that edge again. Words tumbled out, almost involuntarily, as your walls dropped, and all the feelings you’d tried to bury started to surface, raw and undeniable.

“Please Rhea, take me away from here. Make me feel like this every night again. I’ll be your good girl just like I used to-mhp! Just please.” You panted closer to the edge. 

“I promise you my love. Its you and me against the world.” Rhea smiled into your cunt as she started swirling her tounge in an unholy manner making you cover your own mouth before a scream escaped as you came harder than you could have ever imagined in her mouth. 

Rhea lapped up every drop as excruciatingly slow as possible saving every drop. 

You leaned back against the desk, heart still racing, trying to catch your breath. The sunset filtered through the window, casting a warm glow that caught on the diamond of your engagement ring—one you suddenly felt ready to leave behind.

“Did you… really mean it?” you panted softly, looking down at Rhea.

She stayed kneeling in front of you, her eyes softening, serious in a way that left no room for doubt. “I’m already on one knee, aren’t I?” she whispered.

You half-expected her to flash that familiar smirk, but when you looked down, her expression was unguarded, vulnerable. She was really waiting for you.

“So, you think you can just waltz into my engagement party, plead for me to take you back, have your way with me in my fiancé’s study, and—” your words faltered, breath hitching as the weight of it all sunk in. “And act like I’m supposed to forget that you broke my heart?”

A flicker of worry crossed her face as you tilted her chin up to meet your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Took you long enough, Ripley,” you said, the smile breaking free.

Rhea’s face lit up with a joy that felt almost childlike. In one swift move, she scooped you up, spinning you around as laughter spilled out of you both, the weight of years melting away.

When she finally set you down, she looked at you with a promise in her eyes. “I’m going to keep that smile on your face every day,” she murmured, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that felt like forever, yet left you wanting more.

A knock on the door jolted you both back to reality.

“Hey, groom’s on the hunt!” Indi called from outside. “Something about a speech he wants to make for you.”

You felt panic bubble up, but Rhea squeezed your hand, a playful glint in her eye. “I’ll see you in ten minutes,” she said, already plotting. “I think I have some sprinklers to… accidentally set off.”

 She gave your hand one last kiss before slipping toward the door, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Oh, and sweetheart… might want to leave that ring on the desk. Don’t want any misunderstandings about whose fiancée you are.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself as you slipped off the ring, feeling the lightness that came with it. Following her out the door, you found Indi waiting, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“So, what kind of trouble are we about to get into?” she asked, smirking.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face, feeling lighter than you had in years. 

“Might want to ditch those heels, Indi,” you said, voice bubbling with excitement. “I’ve got a future to catch.”

Hellooooo lovelies I hope you are well! I had this idea the other day between writing vampire part 2 so I had to provide it since rhea is on hiatus anyway. I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING THIS IS A FANTASY.

[babybratzmaraj]

Agora Hills

Marshawn Lynch starring as Himself

You starring as Yourself

Summary: You and Marshawn are in New York! You two returned to the hotel room to indulge in some beautiful activities

This fic contains: stronggg sexual content, heavy amounts of negro tongue,lil bit of drug use, you get called a bitch once, pet names, some nasty shit thanks to my clit!

A/N: I have no words. imma whore and the world shall know I'm such, under this name LKJHGFVBNJK like comment reblog for more, and as always folks, have a black ass day.

song that inspired this here:

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair

You walked into the hotel room with Marshawn trailing behind you smiling at your giddiness. Marshawn had a business opportunity to expand his ‘Beast Mode’ franchise and wanted you to come, fuck that, he forced you to come along with him. He loved you dearly and be damned if he left yo pretty ass at home, so he dragged you to the big apple, New York City! Didn’t think you’d love it but you were having fun and enjoying yourself, your man made sure of that.

“That fuckin’ manly ass boy kept taking up space in that fuck ass elevator,” You finally said what was on your mind. You, Your man, a family of 4, and a 6-foot man crowded the elevator and you were tired of it already, your man shielded you once he realized that you were uncomfortable around him. He was just standing too fuckin close.

“Glad you waited till you was in here, I damn near had to cover your mouth in that damn thing.” He rolled his eyes plopping down on the bed and you giggled at how many times he had to squeeze your hand on that long elevator ride to keep your mouth shut.

You kicked off your jeans and joined him on the bed, straddling him, smiling at each other before you laid your head on his chest. “Lemme get a taste baby,” you heard him beg, taking his big long arms and grabbing two handfuls of your ass, massaging them both softly.

“No!” You laughed

“Why not?”

“Because I’m dirty! we been out all day, been sweating and shit, bout ready to throw this wig off and call it a night.”

“Ain't nun wrong with a little seasoning,” he shrugged his shoulders as you erupted into laughter.

He didn’t care if you were sweating all day, freezing your tits off, or sat down too long, if he wanted to eat you, he would, and you would love every single millisecond of it, life too short to not enjoy some head every now and then from someone. You rose up and sat perfectly in his lap, flipping your hair over into a side part, you fiddled with your nails to avoid eye contact.

Your trip prep consisted of cheap but good shit, your nails came from Walmart, your wig came from Amazon, and the clothes you wore you were either forced to buy when you touched down in new york or his clothes he didn’t care if you wore, He didn’t like the shit one bit, ‘the best shit for my favorite woman’ is what he would alllllways say when he caught you buy shit from the low, but you felt bad, you didn’t grow up with shit and hated asking others for help, you didn’t like being dependent on other people because you were afraid of them throwing it back into your face.

But he was different, he wanted to spoil you, he wanted you to have his card and enjoy yourself, get you a fat burrito bowl from Chipotle with a side of Fries and a Hi-C from McDonald’s, it felt nice but you hated him spending his money on you.

“Come here,” he said, raising to help you off the bed and readjust his shirt that you wore, and man you wore it good. You wore his jersey from his football days and you were shocked that you could fit it and it fit you well, hugging your curves and hiding your tummy, which he hated but he wanted you to be his happy princess.

He held your hand all the way to the balcony, looking down at the tiny world, the giddy people walking around, the cars and taxi cabs zooming around and cutting corners, everyone looked like legos and you chuckled at every other person doing emotes and shit.

“Look at this,” he trailed behind you, wrapping his arms around your body, holding you tightly like a warm teddy bear. “This shit is beautiful, even the sky,” You look up and damn it was beautiful. The clouds danced with the stars, twinkling to a rhythm that Black Jesus had his choir sing to the heavens rooftops, the sunset shining through the colorful sky and painting an ethereal picture right in front of your eyes. You were glad he picked the 16th floor just for this view, you’d do anything to see it on a daily basis.

He spun you around and your eyes met his, you saw the sunshine on his face, giving his skin golden kisses all over his face. You gave him quick pecks on the cheek but he wanted more, he grabbed the right side of your face and guided it to his lips, kissing you so sloppily and beautifully, his tongue dancing with yours as he held you closer to him, his hunger for you growing more and more.

You whined as he pulled away from the kiss, leaning forward to get more of him. “Pleaseee, I want some moreee.”

“Why you being impatient? and Do you not know your words?” He questioned you, throwing your head in a frenzy.

He cupped your face in his hand and placed more kisses on you, trailing them from your neck down to your stomach.

“I love when you wear my jersey, I love it even more when I get to fuck you in it.” He smiled up at you and you met him with a flustered grin. Another thing he loved was you wearing his clothes, at first he hated it because you kept taking his good clothes, but the more you took, the more he fell in love with the idea, even to the point that he would take you shopping with him and purposely pick the clothes you chose because you both knew you were going to steal it.

He tugged your panties off, you shook your legs to make it easier for him. A cool breeze distracted you by sending shivers throughout your body. He hooked your left leg onto his shoulder as he dove into you, flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again.

You threw as your hair blew with the wind, dancing in the breeze as he ate you earnestly, moving his tongue wherever your body moved too. You moaned into the air as a smile grew wider on your face, you gyrated your hips in a circle, chasing his tongue around to get him to where you wanted him to be. “Fuck,” You hissed when he finally inserted his two middle fingers inside of you, pumping them deep into you.

He unhooked your leg from his shoulder as he rose to tower you, not fuckin up his motion, he gripped your throat and smushed his lips on yours, his tongue desperately searching for yours but you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut long enough.

He jerked your head forward to look him in his eyes, “You finna cum babygirl? You finna cum all over daddy’s fingers?”

“Yes, Yes, Fuck yes!” You chanted while fucking his fingers, the corner of his lips pulling into a devilish smirk.

He loved watching you cum, the way your body danced with your orgasms, your moans turning into whimpers of pleasure right down to your eyes fluttering like a butterfly in a field of beautiful flowers, You were the flower and he was the boy frolicking through the field enjoying every second of it.

You gripped his shoulder for support with your back pressed against the railing, You opened your eyes to the sight of the beautiful sunset, which was the last thing you saw before he pulled an orgasm out of you, pressing his thumb on your clit and making tiny circles on it. Twitching with every move he made, you grabbed his wrist to steady his hand.

“Fuck, Baby pleaseee,” You begged but he did not listen. Marshawn was a pleaser, always has been always will be, he will not stop until he felt like you were pleased, and you weren’t just yet.

He turned you around so now your tummy was pressed against the railing. He pressed himself against you, sticking his fingers in your mouth, moaning at you suckling on his fingers, “Fuck, Bet you imagined it was me huh?”

“Mhm,” You moaned around his fingers, letting out small yelps every time his hand connected with your asscheeks. He took his fingers out of your mouth to prop your hands on the railing, parting your legs a decent distance, he dropped his pants to free his eager member.

“You think you can stay like this for Daddy?” he asked you, grabbing your hips to perk your butt in the air. He squatted down to take one long look at your pussy, glistening with your essence in the sunset light.

He gave your pussy a couple of licks and kisses before raising up, looking at you, hanging your head low, in desperate need to feel him, to fill you up, to paint a pretty picture inside you. He lined himself up against your wet entrance, preparing his canvas with his precum.

You moaned softly at him slowly filling you up as your eyes fluttered shut, throwing one hand behind you to push him back only resulting in your arm getting pinned behind your back. “You can take me, baby, Just let me take care of you,”

“Nooo,” You protested but it was no good. He was always big, always girthy, and always ready to give it all to you. You’d always fight with him about how much you couldn’t take him, but he’d fucked the worry right out of you.

You felt his free hand wrap around your throat, pushing more into you, finally settling all of his inches in, you clutched around him, snickering at the little moans that escaped his mouth. He planted his feet on the ground and started to fuck you relentlessly, starting at your ass as he watched his lower half collide with your ass, watching it ripple repeatedly was the most satisfying sight he could’ve ever laid eyes on.

You moaned silently to be mindful of the other residents of this hotel but he wasn’t having none of that,

“Nuh-uh,” He moaned in a low tone, propping his leg on the chair, rocking his hips into you slowly to make you talk. “Lemme hear you, let the world know good I’m making my bitch feel.” you granted his wish, letting all of the moans you suppressed leave your mouth.

He paused his motion, slowly sliding out of you and back in. He releases his grip from your throat and you drop your head, flipping your hair back to get the few strands stuck on your face by the sweat off.

You hear him walking away from you, watering your curiosity about what he was going to do. You look back at him to see him remove his pants and take off his shirt. Adjusting his chain he walked back out to the balcony.

“C’mere,” He commanded, squatting down on one of the chairs that was set out on the balcony, stroking himself while looking directly into your eyes.

You smile as you drop to your knees not breaking eye contact, he smacks his thick dick on your lips, the corners of his mouth raising more by the minute.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, giving him sultry looks before you took him in your mouth, moaning around him savoring the taste of both of your juices combined.

He let out a deep rugged groan at the feeling of your mouth, moving your hair out of your face, he looked at you with hunger in his eyes.

You wrapped your hands around his dick, jerking him and sucking him at a medium pace. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised you in a low growl making you leak onto your thighs. Grabbing your head, he began to thrust himself into your mouth, making you take him deeper and deeper into your throat, making gag noises as he stroked languidly.

You feel him twitch in your throat, signaling that he was close. You put your hands behind your back and looked up at a cheesing Marshawn. “You look so fuckin’ pretty taking me mamas.” He moaned before throwing his head back in pleasure. He only had a few strokes left before he came in your throat, letting out those soft masculine moans that you love so fucking much.

He let out a few more before bobbing your head up and down on him, fuckin his cum further down your throat.

You slowly take him out as you swallow whatever was left, giving him innocent smiles and gave his dick a few kisses. “Damn baby,” he panted, lowering his head to give you quick pecks on the lips, leading down to your collarbone as he reached around to grab a handful of your ass.

You got off your knees and hooked your leg on the chair's railings, aligning him with your entrance, you hooked your other leg as you slid down on him slowly. “Shitttttt,” he curses under his breath at the feeling of you, the two of you moaning as your hunger has been restored.

You braced yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck, bouncing in his lap at a quick pace. He moaned directly into your ear to fuel you more and it did, you loved it when he moaned, every time he moaned anything or sound made you get more riled up, it was your dick and you could do whatever you wanted to it, and you proudly did your shit.

“Fuck, this pussy so good. taking all of daddy’s dick,” he said, snaking his arm up to grip your throat, making you hold eye contact while you continue to ride him. The air felt more humid, the sun still peeking through as a ray of sunshine displayed his chocolate skin glistening with sweat, brightening up his dark brown eyes to a beautiful bright brown.

You felt his twitch inside you and his body tense up, “You better not nut baby, not till I get mines.” You commanded and he obliged, rolling his eyes at your dirty words. “God why you fuckin me like this?” he threw the question in the air making you slow down, gyrating your hips as you slowly bounced up and down, giggling at his face and whimpering that left his plumped lips.

“Aw come on baby,” you cooed at his whimpers, “Can’t take it?”

“I’ll show you who can’t take it,” he said, hooking his arms around your legs and picking you up and flipping you two around so now that you were on the bottom, dangling his chain in your face, he started to fuck you with content in his eyes.

Your eyes rolled back to the back of your skull as you felt him hitting your spot over and over again. “Oh fuck!” you cursed into the air resulting in a smile from Marshawn. “Aw Come on baby, What’s wrong? Can’t take all of me?” he growled, making the pit in your stomach grow wilder.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! I’m finna cum!” you chanted over and over again.

“Hold it- J-just a little bit l-longer.” he threw his head back pleading, matching his strokes with your whimpers.

You hated when he didn’t let you cum, even when you wanted to soooo bad you knew you couldn’t disobey him, the punishment would’ve been something to tell the captain.

He dropped his head to see you cry tears of pleasure, in love with the beautiful sight of you taking him and all of him, he could look at this all day long. “Cum.” was all that was needed as you both had your climax together, the sounds leaving his mouth sounded like heaven to your ears and harmonized with yours as he painted your walls with his cum.

He softly collapsed on top of you still inside you, holding you close as he rocked his hips into you. “Oh my god,”

“Oh my god indeed.” He laughed, giggling at you whimpering as he slowly pulled out, his nut oozing out of your pussy.

He left the balcony for a few minutes and returned with a warm towel to wipe you clean, planting kisses on your forehead as he sat beside you on the other chair, grabbing the blunt from earlier that was resting in the ashtray.

You flipped over to your side and stared at him, admiring what kind of man you scored, you felt like the most luckiest girl in the world to have him, to be cared about, to feel loved, to be adored by someone who didn’t care how big you were, you were his, wasn’t nothing changing that.

You two started at the sunset with each other taking turns to hit the blunt, it wasn't a damn thing that could dim your happiness, not even a negative Nancy that was yelling at you two from below, you both snickering before running back inside the room, shutting the door and jumping into bed.

fin♥️

[acourtofmoonlightandstars]

Find me - Chapter 3

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: At a ball you meet the one person you thought you would never see again, you left him once. Will you leave him again?

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Violence, I guess?

Note: We have some new friendships and some good old Rhysand and inner circle slander, høhø. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list.

Chapter 2

You jumped from the balcony, not caring about the height you’d had to fall to reach the garden beneath. You were still in your nightgown but you didn’t care. There was no way you weren’t leaving right away. 

There was nothing to do except sprint towards the staples, you might have a mate with wings, but since you yourself didn’t have any, they would have to be borrowed elsewhere. 

You ran on bare feet, not even noticing the cuts the rocks beneath your feet caused. Nothing mattered, nothing except this, except him. 

Luna was in her stable, dark and strong as always. The fairy lights shone on her blank feathers and reflected the light. Your father had gifted you the pegasus because he thought she matched your eyes. And the two of you had instantly bonded. 

You quickly slid into your riding pants and their matching leather boots, all meant to keep you safe and warm in the high altitude. 

“Hey girl, are you ready for a trip to Night?” you whispered into the neck of Luna, you twisted some of her mane around your finger as she gently pushed your hip. It was almost as if she asked you to hurry up and get going. 

You chuckled, and the shadow that had manifested in your skin came back to life and slid up her mane and rested between her ears. It looked like she was suddenly wearing a crown of shadows, and it made her look even more majestic than she already did. 

Luna stretched out her wings and made room for you to climb up her back, and just as you set off into the night, Lucien came crashing into the stable, only to see you disappear up into the sky.

Azriel had never really gotten up after the meeting in Rhy’s office earlier that day. He had stayed in that spot on the couch. As usual no one really seemed to notice. When the meeting had ended they all scattered to find out information about his so-called condition, no one stayed behind to check in, to hug him as he cried. 

He clawed at his chest again. She would’ve, she would’ve stayed. He kept repeating the thought as a mantra. 

It was dark out when the High Lord once again joined him in the office. “Az, what are you…” he started, but was quickly interrupted. 

“Let me go, let me go get Elain” he asked. “I need to feel like I’m doing something…” 

Rhysand sighed as he sat down on his large chair behind his desk. “You are doing something, your shadows are doing more than any of us ever could.” he rested his cheek in his hand as he looked at his brother. 

Azriel only shook his head. “I don’t care, and honestly Rhys, I’m going with or without your permission” his eyes were cold, in a way that was only ever directed at his victims, the people he tortured, never had he ever looked at anyone from his family with eyes like that. 

Rhysand sat up in his chair, face folded in his neat mask with that feline smile of a cover for his true emotions. Azriel rolled his eyes at his behavior. 

“So, this is how it’s gonna be, huh?” he asked as he let his power roam through the room. It was enough to make the fiercest warrior afraid, but Azriel wasn’t just anybody. 

“Yes” he answered as he stood up. The High Lord of Night’s eyes darkened. “You’re in no position to leave, you're broken, bruised and you’re definitely not thinking straight” Rhysand stood from his chair, palms placed at the cool mahogany surface. He let some more of his power free. 

“Just because you were willing to let Feyra go, just because Cassian refused to tell Nesta the truth about who they were to each other, doesn't mean I want to do the same brother.” he spit out the last word as he felt his shadows dance around him in a protective manner. “Let’s be honest, the two of you were cowards, too afraid of them refusing you to even try to fight for them, for their love. I have no intention of doing that. I have always been rejected and refused, but not with her, at least not yet. And if she were to refuse me I’d rather have that happen sooner rather than later” 

“That’s not fair, they both did what they thought was best for us” Feyra said from the door opening with Nyx in her arms, but Azriel only shrugged. 

“Have you ever stopped to think that this might all be a trick?” Rhysand asked. “That you’re being manipulated by someone to leave Valaris? That an attack could be coming? If you leave our first defense, your spies, will leave with you and we will be vulnerable” 

He had to admit that his High Lord was making a good point. But he should also know that Azriel would never leave Valaris unprotected. “Fine, I’ll leave a few stationed by the borders to inform you if they catch an intruder. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really wanna get going” 

And with that he stepped through a shadow, leaving his High Lord and Lady alone in the study. Rhysand couldn’t help but wonder if he was well on his way to make an enemy of the Shadowsinger, and if that were the case, he was scared of what that might mean for not only his court, but his family. 

“What do you mean she left?! I thought you said she was so weak that she could barely walk?!” Azriel heard the High Lord of Day yell through the halls. His voice bounced on the walls, and he could feel the almost scolding power that he radiated, despite being no way near him. Helion's voice was sad, heartbroken and worried. It was new for him to catch the High Lord in a position like that. It seemed that these two usually powerful men were both in a vulnerable state. 

“Someones here” Elain said, as she laid a hand on her mates beating heart. Lucien quickly turned towards the hall where Azriel’s shadows had taken him, he quickly put himself in front of his mate, as he lit both the fire and the light that was hidden away in his veins. 

As Azriel stepped into the light, none of the three high fae spoke. He looked like a shell of the person that Elain had seen just the night before, there hadn’t even gone a day, what had happened to her friend? She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. 

The shadowsinger couldn’t help but smirk, but it never reached his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by, but I need your help Elaine”. It only took a few steps for Lucien to get in front of the Spymaster. His hand rested on the back of his neck, checking his temperature. His hands slid up his cheeks and forced him to meet his eyes as they scanned him for any kind of injury. 

“I’m fine Luce'' he said as he brushed away his hands. The most amazing thing that had come from Azriel's previous crush on the Archeron sister was the friendship with the Vanserra. The two men had learned to understand each other on a level no other could. And in the last decade Lucien and Elaine had become the people Az would always turn to. 

None of them really showed the rest of their inner circle the bond that they shared. Elain had always said it would be too dangerous, never really specifying why. So they met up in other courts, snuck away at balls to drink and laugh with one another. 

Elaine was by Azriels side in a second, taking his arms in hers, and it was almost like he collapsed in the pair's arms. Like if he came home and his body finally allowed itself to relax. His knees gave after and he broke down. He didn't even have the energy to hold his wings off the ground. The state of the Illyrian even worried Helion as he called out for his soldiers to fetch him a healer, that was despite the fact that he seemed to have enough worries of his own. 

“Az, what the hell happened to you?” Elaine said as he brushed his curls from his forehead, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. He just stared at his hands. A few seconds later, he passed out from exhaustion. 

You rode all night, desperate to be in the Night Court as soon as daylight hit the territory of one of the oldest allies of her fathers. Helion had always respected Rhysand, always adored Feyra and thirsted after your own mate and his best friends. 

A fire ran through your body at the mere thought of some other person's hands on his body. It was weird, because the bond hadn’t snapped yet, but you still knew that he belonged to you, and the possessiveness was already clouding your mind. You couldn’t help the chuckle. 

Shortly after you had crossed the border you landed on a hillside outside what you assumed to be Valaris, you would wait here, for anyone of the so-called innercircle to come find you. No need to make them worry, they were warriors after all. 

It didn’t take long before you saw the High Lord and Lady winnow a few hundred meters away from you. Shortly after followed the Morrigan, Cassian, Nesta and Amren. But no Azriel. You felt how your heart contacted, how the disappointment sept through your body. Why wasn’t he here? Did he know you were coming and had decided he wanted nothing to do with you? 

“Couldron boil me, that’s a fucking black pegasus” you heard Nesta breathe out in chock. You smiled at her, and she took a step towards you, mesmerized by the creature, but was quickly stopped by her mate. 

A second later you felt as both Rhysand and Feyra tried gaining access to your mind. Your walls of black obsidian, as dark as your eyes kept them out, and it didn’t take long for them to realize there was no way in. 

“Who are you?” Rhysand yelled out towards you. 

“I’m Y/N, emissary from Day” you spoke clearly, tried your best to seem as confident as possible as you were stared down by all of them, your mates' chosen family. 

“How come we’ve never met you then?” Feyra then said, Rhysand was slowly walking closer to you as he assessed you, your stance and Luna too. 

“I’ve spent the majority of my time in Autumn ever since Eris took over, and as far as I know, you aren’t that close with the Vanserras” you felt how the fire in your veins wanted to make them known as you spoke of your other home court, but you kept it hidden. Your father had kept your identity a secret for a reason after all. 

“Only an idiot would willingly spend time with that snake Eris” Cassian said as he crossed your arms. You couldn’t help but look at Mor who to most people was as poised as ever, but you saw how her shoulders shrunk by the mention of your oldest brother. Lucien had told you of how she had decided to keep the truth of her run-in with Eris a secret, and not defend him. Not calling her out, took every bit of willpower you had stored in your body. 

Instead you rolled your eyes, as you had learned your brothers often did when the matter of that day centuries ago was brought up. Mor seemed to recognize the gesture but kept it to herself. 

“None of that really explains why you’re here girl” Amren said with a cold, almost indifferent tone. 

You sighed as you pulled off your riding gloves. “I’m here to seek out your Shadowsinger, High Lord and Lady” you might be better off with fake formalities you thought. 

Rhysands eyes darkened instantly. “And tell me, what is it exactly you want with my Spymaster?” it all seemed like too much of a coincidence to the pair. 

Be careful… Worried… Angry… Afraid. 

The shadow that had accompanied from Day, had at some point managed to slither up your neck and now sat close to your ear and whispered information to you about the people who stood before you. 

It was impossible for you to hold back the smirk that painted your lips. Azriel might not be here, but his shadow was helping you, and it made you feel safe. 

You shrugged. “I have some information for him,” you said. The answer didn’t seem to please Rhysand, and you felt that insane amount of power radiate from him. 

“As far as I know, Azriel is my spymaster, he reports to me. So whatever information you have for him, you can tell me” Rhysand smirked, but his eyes were dark, cold. He seemed on edge, as if he had expected something to happen soon, as if he expected an attack. 

You smiled at him, tried to seem as gentle and non threatening as possible. And then you shook your head and Rhysands smile faltered. “No, this only concerns him, no one else” 

“You’ve trespassed into our court, you seek out one of the most powerful people in all of Prythia and you refuse to tell me why. What exactly do you expect me to do?” He said as he flicked off a piece of lint from his sleeve. No doubt a coping mechanism to seem somewhat indifferent. It didn’t work on you. 

“I expect you to welcome me like you would any other emissary, and something tells me this isn’t the usual welcome wagon” You catch eyes with Nesta as she smirks at your comment. Elaine had always told you that she had a problem with their brother-in-law. 

“You’ve chosen to come at a bad time, and apart from that Helion usually informs me of the emissaries he sends our way, he hasn’t this time. So maybe you’re just one of Eris’s whores, coming here to see if you could seduce the only unmated man in my innercircle to get information” 

Rhysand looked to a few of Azriel’s shadows that stood close by. “Grab her and take her to the dungeons” he ordered, and the shadows rushed towards you. But just like on the balcony these shadows stopped a few feet from you, and when your little friend revealed itself from its hiding place in your hair, Azriel’s shadows rushed up to join it on your shoulders. 

They were filled with excitement as they kept chanting mate, over and over as they took turns to shower you with compliments. You giggled at them, despite the danger you knew stood before you. Your first little friend gave you a peck on the cheek and left you with its friends, slithering away to find its master and tell him to hurry home. 

“Is she a shadowsinger?” Mor said as she took a step forward. The surprise was easy to read on all their faces. Nesta leaned into Cassian with a knowing smirk as she gave you a small nod. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble, please believe that” You said as the shadows calmed and rested in your hair, on your shoulders, up your arms and down your legs. They provided you with an extra layer of protection. 

“Let the shadows go” Feyra ordered, as wings grew from her back. It was an incredible sight to see her shape shift before you. 

“I’m not their master, they go where he orders them to, I'd imagine” you answered, but Rhysand seemed to be filled with your excuses, and sent out a wave of pure power aimed directly at you. 

You heard Nesta scream “NO!” as he did, a reaction that earned her a look from the High Lord. The shadows took the blow, which made you wince on their behalf. You had no idea if they were conscious beings, if they could feel pain. You hope they couldn’t. 

Feyra helped her mate in his attack, sending light your way that never hit its target and fire that never burned your skin. Her frustrations were clear to see for all, personally you couldn’t help the smirk on your lips. 

And then you raised a hand and all light that surrounded the inner circle disappeared, leaving all but Nesta in complete and utter darkness. 

“Did that witch just blind me?!” Cassian yelled out. As he tried desperately to get to his mate. Nesta just rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand, she did however have a subtle smile on her lips. 

“I just wanna talk to Azriel, please… Just tell me where he is” you felt how your voice threatened to break. 

“He’s not here Lightstealer” Amren said with a calm and collected voice. “He’s in another court, and I’m guessing none of us plan to tell you which before you give us our sight back” The small woman crossed her arms as she shot out one of her hips. 

You sank to your knees ready to give up on your quest and let your power go, once again making it possible for them to see. You felt your tears stream silently down your cheeks. The shadows were desperate to calm you, to make you feel better. In that moment you were all they saw, and one second later, something hit you over the head and everything went black.

Taglist: @tele86 @lilah-asteria @photographmymusic

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XI

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Valaena and Aemond reunite with their family, and tensions rise at dinner.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Dragons, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Fingering, Oral Sex, P in V, Cock Warming.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6480

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

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Rhaenyra paced the now-empty council chamber, her footsteps echoing softly as she fiddled with her rings.

Nearly six years had passed since Silverwing and Vhagar had been presumed lost in the waters of Shipbreaker Bay, carrying Aemond and her beloved daughter, Valaena, to their deaths.

The pain of losing Valaena had been an agony like no other—her sweet, spirited girl, taken so young, her life snuffed out before it had truly begun.

In the years since, Rhaenyra had found herself drawn to solitude, often seeking the quiet of her balcony to gaze at the stars. She would tell herself that one of them was Valaena, watching over her, a gentle light in the dark.

At other times, she’d mount Syrax and fly to Shipbreaker Bay, where she’d stand on the shore and stare at the waves, willing them to give her back her child.

For a moment, she would almost believe that if she stood there long enough, she would see her daughter walking toward her, stepping out of the mist and foam.

Now, with news of Silverwing and Vhagar sighted over Blackwater Bay, a swirl of hope and dread filled her heart.

What if it wasn’t Valaena? What if someone else had claimed her daughter’s beloved Silverwing?

She didn’t want to open her heart to hope, only to have it torn apart again. She would not survive it.

A soft knock at the door shattered her thoughts. She swallowed, her hands trembling as she composed herself.

“Come in,” she managed, her voice wavering.

The door opened slowly, and as Rhaenyra looked up, her heart stopped. Valaena stood there, framed in the doorway, alive and real.

Rhaenyra couldn’t breathe, frozen as she took in the sight of her daughter—the daughter she’d mourned, who now stood before her as if she’d never left.

Valaena seemed taller now, her features a blend of the girl Rhaenyra had lost and the woman she had become.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra stepped forward, her hand reaching out, her fingers quivering as they brushed against Valaena’s shoulder.

The touch was solid and warm, and Rhaenyra’s breath hitched as she felt the reality of her child beneath her fingers.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re real.”

Valaena took her mother’s hand gently, grounding her. “Yes, Mama. I’m real, and I’m home.”

In a heartbeat, Rhaenyra pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace, sobs wracking her as she held Valaena as tightly as she could.

“My girl,” she gasped, over and over. “My little girl.” She buried her face in Valaena’s hair, inhaling her scent, as if she could somehow imprint it in her heart forever.

Finally, Rhaenyra pulled back just enough to cup Valaena’s face in her hands, her thumbs brushing gently across her cheeks.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Valaena’s own eyes shimmered as she looked at her mother. “I know. I’m so sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her hands still cradling Valaena’s face as if afraid she might disappear if she let go.

“No, my sweet girl. I’m sorry—for making you feel that you couldn’t come to me.”

A shadow passed over Valaena’s face. “Do you hate me?”

Rhaenyra’s heart twisted as she shook her head emphatically. “No, I could never hate you. Perhaps, someday, we’ll speak of all that has happened. But for now-” she took a shaky breath, pressing a tender kiss to Valaena’s brow, “-I’m just so grateful to have you home.”

The two held each other, finding solace in the closeness that they had both longed for over years apart, a fragile, precious reunion sealed with the unbreakable bond that they’d shared since Valaena’s first breath.

Valaena looked at her mother with a soft smile and said, “Would you like to meet your grandchildren?”

Rhaenyra’s face lit up, and she replied, “Please.”

Valaena called out to Aemond, and the door opened as he entered with Rhaegar and Elaena at his side, and little Daenys nestled in his arms.

Valaena gently introduced each child, beginning with, “This is Rhaegar.” He stepped forward, bowing politely.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice steady, though his violet eyes revealed a spark of curiosity.

Then Valaena moved her hand toward her daughter, “And this is Elaena.” The little girl, with her thumb firmly in her mouth, pressed herself shyly against Aemond’s leg, peeking out from behind his cloak.

“And this,” Valaena continued, her voice softer, “is Daenys.” She reached over to stroke Daenys’ cheek, who gazed back with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Rhaenyra’s expression softened as she took in each child, and then she looked up at Aemond, her gaze steady. “Aemond.”

Aemond met her eyes and replied with a curt, “Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “You and I need to have a conversation, but that can wait. For now, may I hold my granddaughter?”

Aemond glanced at Valaena, who nodded her consent. He stepped forward, carefully passing Daenys to Rhaenyra.

As she cradled the baby, Rhaenyra’s face softened even more, her own hands steady as she pressed a gentle kiss to Daenys’ forehead.

She looked into the child’s curious, trusting eyes for a moment before handing her back to Aemond.

Rhaenyra then knelt to Elaena’s level, giving the little girl a warm smile. “Hello, little one. I’m your grandmother.”

Elaena took her thumb out of her mouth, studying Rhaenyra’s face before saying, “You smile like Mama.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

Elaena gave a tiny nod, but she still kept close to Aemond, her small hand gripping the edge of his cloak. Rhaenyra rose and turned to Rhaegar, studying him closely. “My, you favour your father in looks,” she said, a gentle smile on her face.

Rhaegar’s expression shifted with a flash of pride, and he said, “Thank you,” his voice small but sincere.

Then Rhaenyra’s gaze drifted to Valaena’s rounded stomach, her eyes widening with realization. “I see I am to have another grandchild.”

Valaena smiled, her hand resting protectively over her belly. “Yes-a surprise, but a welcome one.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she replied, “Those are the best kind.” Her gaze drifted over Aemond’s shoulder, noticing two unfamiliar faces standing just behind him.

“Ahh yes-” Valaena said, following her mother’s gaze. “This is Lirri and Arro”

Rhaenyra inclined her head in polite greeting, acknowledging the two who had evidently served her daughter and good son well.

Just then, Daenys began to fuss, her small face creasing. Aemond lifted her onto his shoulder, swaying slightly from side to side, murmuring softly to calm her.

Rhaenyra watched, almost mesmerized, as Aemond soothed his youngest with the practiced ease of a father.

“Mama,” Elaena tugged at Valaena’s dress, her voice soft with exhaustion. “I tired.”

Valaena brushed her hand gently over her daughter’s hair. “You’ll sleep soon, my sweet.”

Rhaenyra took in the scene with a quiet smile, then turned to call for Ser Erryk. He entered swiftly, awaiting her command.

“Ser Erryk, will you escort Valaena, Aemond, and their children to the empty royal chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast? There is ample room for the family and space enough for a nursery. There are also suitable lodgings for Lirri and Arro, as I imagine you would like them to remain in your service.”

Valaena nodded gratefully. “Yes, we would.”

Rhaenyra smiled warmly. “I’ll let you all get settled. And, Aemond-” she said, glancing at him, “I’m sure you’ll want to see your mother and siblings as well.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Aemond replied with a respectful nod.

Rhaenyra inclined her head. “Then let us meet for dinner later.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” Valaena agreed.

As Valaena turned to leave, Rhaenyra felt a surge of emotion she couldn’t quite contain. “Wait,” she called out.

Valaena paused, turning back, and Rhaenyra crossed the room quickly, pulling her into a tight embrace. She whispered softly, “I just wanted to be sure.”

Valaena hugged her mother back, her voice steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here, Mama. I’m here.”

With that, Valaena and Aemond gathered their children and followed Ser Erryk, leaving Rhaenyra alone in the council chamber, her heart brimming with both the joy of reunion and the quiet ache of years lost.

In the quiet of the chamber, Valaena sat back against the cushioned armchair, watching the dim flickering light from the candles cast soft shadows across the walls.

Elaena was already fast asleep on the bed, her small form nestled securely in Lirri's arms. Nearby, Daenys was in Arro's gentle hold, swaddled and calm as he slowly rocked her, humming a low lullaby.

Rhaegar, standing beside Valaena’s chair, looked around the sparsely furnished room, his young brow knitting together.

"It's very dark in here, Mama," he murmured.

Valaena gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to brush a hand through his silver hair. "I know, my love. But once we have our things here, I’m sure it will brighten the place up."

She glanced over at Aemond, who sat in a wooden chair by the door, tapping his fingers restlessly against the armrest.

His gaze kept straying to the doorway, his lips pressed into a thin line of anticipation.

Sensing his urge to go, Valaena spoke softly, “It’s alright, Aemond. If you want to go see your mother, go.”

Aemond turned to her, his expression conflicted. “I don’t wish to leave you alone.”

Valaena chuckled lightly. “I’m not alone. Arro and Lirri are here.” She looked at him with quiet understanding, encouraging him to go.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond finally stood, adjusting the front of his leather jerkin. Just then, Rhaegar tugged on his father’s hand, looking up with a curious expression.

“Where are you going, daddy?”

“To see your grandmother,” Aemond answered gently.

Rhaegar tilted his head in confusion. “But-we just saw her.”

Aemond chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. “You have more than one grandmother.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened with intrigue. “I do?”

Aemond nodded, a faint smile on his face. “And uncles and an aunt as well.”

Rhaegar’s face lit up, and he looked at his mother, clearly eager. “Can I come with you?”

Valaena met Aemond’s gaze, a look of encouragement in her eyes.

Aemond turned back to Rhaegar with a soft smile. “If you want to, yes.”

“I do!” Rhaegar’s face shone with excitement, and he nodded emphatically.

Valaena leaned down and cupped Rhaegar’s face, her expression tender. “Be a good boy, alright?”

“I will, Mama,” Rhaegar promised earnestly.

Aemond stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Valaena’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured. “I love you.”

She smiled, her hand resting over his as he pulled away. “I love you too.”

With a final glance, Valaena watched them leave, Aemond’s protective arm around Rhaegar’s shoulders as they disappeared down the dim corridor.

The door closed softly, leaving the room cloaked in quiet once more.

Aemond and Rhaegar made their way through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, the shadows and hallways stretching out before them.

Rhaegar, small, wide-eyed and unsure, clung tightly to his father’s hand as they walked.

Every now and then, he tugged on Aemond's hand, and at last, he paused, kneeling down to meet his son’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, Rhaegar?” Aemond asked gently.

Rhaegar looked around, glancing nervously at the servants and guards who had stopped to stare as they passed.

"People are staring at us, Daddy."

Aemond gave him a reassuring smile, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, tresy. They’re looking at me, not you” (Son).

Rhaegar’s brows furrowed as he whispered, “Are you okay, Daddy?”

Aemond’s smile softened. “I will be” He stood and, with a deep breath, took Rhaegar’s hand in his once more.

Together, they walked onward until they arrived before the heavy door of Alicent’s chambers. Aemond raised his hand to knock but hesitated, his fingers curling.

He felt Rhaegar squeeze his other hand and, glancing down at his young son, he smiled—a reminder of his courage.

Steeling himself, Aemond knocked, and a moment later, his mother’s voice called from within, “Come in.”

Opening the door, Aemond’s breath caught. Alicent was sitting by the window beside Helaena, both of them sewing.

At the sight of him, Alicent froze, her needle slipping from her fingers.

“A-Aemond-” she whispered, slowly rising from her seat, disbelief and joy fighting for dominance on her face.

She approached him cautiously, her hand reaching out, as if he might disappear if she moved too quickly.

Gently, she cupped his face, her thumb tracing the scar on his cheek. “I thought you were dead,” she murmured, voice trembling.

Aemond took her hand, squeezing it gently. “No, Mother. I’m alive.”

A relieved smile broke across her face. “Oh, my son-” She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, and Aemond hugged her back, though a bit stiffly.

When she pulled away, her gaze fell on Rhaegar, her eyes widening.

“And who is this little one?” she asked softly.

Aemond’s hand moved to rest on Rhaegar’s shoulder, and with a small, proud smile, he said, “This is my son, Rhaegar.”

Alicent’s eyes filled with fresh tears as she clasped a hand to her mouth. “You have a son,” she whispered in awe.

Aemond nodded. “Yes, I also have two daughters and another child on the way.”

“Oh, Aemond-” Alicent’s smile was luminous. “Is it Valaena? Is she here too?”

Aemond’s eye widened, surprised. “How did you know about—”

Before he could finish, the door burst open, making Rhaegar jump and clutch at Aemond’s leg.

Aegon stumbled into the room, breathless and grinning. “Is it true? They’re saying all over the Keep that Aemond’s alive! Is he really—” He stopped abruptly, eyes falling on his brother.

Aemond bent down to lift Rhaegar protectively into his arms, fixed his older brother with a scowl. “You moron, you scared my son half to death!”

Aegon winced, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I—wait. You have a son?” He looked incredulous.

Aemond sighed, rubbing Rhaegar’s back soothingly. “Yes, you idiot. And you frightened him.”

Aegon’s expression softened as he looked at the boy in Aemond’s arms. “What’s his name?”

“Rhaegar,” Aemond answered.

A broad smile broke across Aegon’s face. “A fine name, brother. Well done.” He clapped Aemond on the back, and Aemond muttered a grudging thanks.

At that moment, Helaena approached, her soft smile calming Rhaegar. Holding out her arms, she silently asked permission to hold him.

To Aemond’s surprise, Rhaegar leaned over willingly, nestling into her as she kissed his cheek and murmured,

“There, there, sweet boy.” Rhaegar, now settled, seemed soothed in her gentle hold.

Aegon then flung his arms around Aemond, his grin a mix of affection and mischief. “You twat, I’ve missed you!”

But Aemond pulled back, wrinkling his nose and teasingly sniffing the air around Aegon. “Gods, you reek of wine. Did you bathe in it?”

“If only,” Aegon quipped, laughing, though Aemond made a face in response.

Just then, Daeron appeared quietly by the doorway. He stepped in cautiously, his eyes shining as he took in the sight of his elder brother.

Aemond nodded politely to him, offering a faint smile. Daeron stepped forward, returning the smile as he clasped Aemond’s shoulder.

“I was barely more than a boy when they sent me to Oldtown and when I returned, you were gone,” he said softly.

Aemond’s gaze warmed, nodding in quiet understanding. “Then mayhaps we can come to know each other as brothers once more.”

Daeron nodded, his voice steady. “I would like that.”

As Alicent watched her children reunited, she couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped from her eyes, pressing a handkerchief to her cheek.

For six long years, she had mourned her favourite son, believing him lost to the sea. And now here he was—returned to her, with his own family.

At last, Aemond was home, surrounded by his mother and siblings, the ghosts of the past slowly beginning to lift.

Rhaegar’s small voice broke through the gentle chatter. “I want to go back to Mama,” he whispered, his hand clutching Helaena’s shoulder.

Helaena smiled warmly and, with a soft kiss to his cheek, handed him back to Aemond.

Aemond held Rhaegar close, nodding to his sister with quiet gratitude. “Thank you for everything, Hellie-” he said.

She smiled; her gaze full of understanding. “I’m just glad that you’re all home.”

Aemond took a breath, shifting his weight as he prepared to leave. “The Queen has invited me and Valaena for dinner later,” he said, “-So I’ll see you all then.”

“Where are you off to now?” Aegon asked, folding his arms with an arched brow.

“Rhaegar wants his mother,” Aemond replied, adjusting his grip on his son. “And I should be heading back anyway—Elaena and Daenys will likely be waking from their naps.”

Aegon blinked, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. “Who are Elaena and Daenys?”

“My daughters,” Aemond said, giving him a wry look.

Aegon let out a laugh, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve certainly been busy, whilst you were dead. So how many children are we talking about here?”

Aemond rolled his eye, scoffing. “Like you can talk. How many silver-haired bastards of yours are running around Flea Bottom?”

Aegon shrugged, grinning. “Not that many, I don’t think-” he trailed off with a smirk, “and you didn’t answer my question.”

With a sigh, Aemond replied, “I have three children, and another on the way.”

Aegon whistled, laughing. “Gods be good, brother!” He clutched his ribs as Aemond, exasperated, jabbed him lightly in the side.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Aemond said, his patience thinning but his smile lingering.

With a final nod to his siblings, he made his way out of the room, Rhaegar cradled securely in his arms.

Rhaegar nestled against him, Aemond strode back through the corridors of the Red Keep, feeling, for the first time in years, like he truly belonged there once more.

As Aemond visited his family, Valaena was busy overseeing the unpacking of their trunks and carefully attending to the wooden crates that housed the dragon hatchlings.

The room was alive with activity—Daenys gurgled contentedly, drooling over her favourite carved wooden toy, while Elaena giggled in delight as Lirri gently tickled her tiny feet.

Meanwhile, Arro was stood on the balcony, admiring the breathtaking view over Blackwater Bay.

Valaena knelt beside the crates, unlatching them and gently coaxing the hatchlings out.

Hūra let out a piercing shriek as she unfurled her wings, stretching before leaping onto the bed to snuggle up next to Elaena, who giggled and stroked her scaly head.

Valerion, the smallest, wasted no time latching onto Valaena’s dress, scrambling his way up to her shoulder as he chirped happily in her ear.

Sapphyre, the largest and most spirited of the trio, lifted his head, sniffed the air, and began to trill urgently as he looked around.

Lirri looked concerned, watching the restless hatchling. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“It’s a new place,” Valaena explained, brushing a soothing hand over Sapphyre’s scaled neck. “He doesn’t know where Rhaegar is. He’s worried.”

“Oh no-” muttered Lirri

“Dokimarvose, Sapphyre. Lykirī”  but Sapphyre only roared and flapped his wings, rearing up on his hind legs in agitation (Focus, be calm).

“My lady-” muttered Lirri nervously.

With a firmer tone, Valaena held out her hand and commanded, “Dohaerās, Sapphyre” (Serve).

Instantly, Sapphyre’s defiance waned; and he settled down, tilting his head with a questioning gaze.

“Mama-” exclaimed Elaena.

Valaena gently stroked him, murmuring, “Hegnīr valītsos” Sapphyre then moved away and curled up in front of the fire, his golden eyes fixed on the door, waiting (Good boy).

Lirri exhaled in relief. “That was close, my lady.”

Valaena gave a slight nod, her fingers idly trailing along Sapphyre’s scales. “It’s an unfamiliar place to him. Hopefully, Aemond and Rhaegar will be back soon and then he’ll calm down-”

Carefully, Valaena lifted Valerion from her shoulder and placed him on the bed next to Daenys, who immediately reached out to hold his tail in her little hand.

Arro, watching all of this with fascination, finally spoke up. “Should we ask that Sapphyre be taken to join Vhagar and Silverwing? He might feel more comfortable with them.”

“The dragon keepers may not allow that,” Valaena replied, a hint of displeasure in her voice. “They’d likely insist he be taken to the Dragonpit.”

Arro looked puzzled. “What’s the Dragonpit?”

“It’s a building in the city where dragons are kept,” Valaena explained, her tone darkening. “But I don’t like it, the dragons are chained in the dark. I won’t subject Sapphyre to that.”

Arro shook his head, his expression disturbed. “That sounds terrible.”

“I believe it stunts their growth, being chained up and confined like that,” Valaena said, glancing over at the hatchling curled up by the fire.

“Is that why Vhagar is so large?”

“Yes, I believe so-she’s spent many years flying free. Maybe that why they insist on chaining the dragons, to prevent them from growing larger” muttered Valaena rubbing her stomach gently.

“Was there a dragon larger than her?” asked Arro curiously.

“There was. Balerion the black dread, he was the largest dragon who ever lived” replied Valaena.

“Where is he now?”

“He died, during the reign of my great great grandsire King Jaehaerys” said Valaena.

“Oh” said Arro sadly.

“His skull still rests in a chamber below the red keep, I can show you sometime if you like?” suggested Valaena.

“I would like that very much my lady thank you”

“I know how much you like dragons, perhaps I can suggest some books from the library that I think you would enjoy” said Valaena smiling.

“You are very kind-”

Just then, the door opened, and Aemond stepped in, Rhaegar at his side. Sapphyre, upon seeing Rhaegar, let out a low, happy coo as the boy ran to him, stroking the dragon’s head with a joyful smile.

Aemond took in the room, glancing at Valaena. “Is everything alright here?”

She nodded, but her gaze softened as she watched Rhaegar and Sapphyre together. “We’ll talk about it later.”

As the last of their belongings were unpacked and set in place, Valaena and Aemond finally found a quiet moment.

The children were tucked into their respective rooms—Elaena and Daenys sharing a cozy chamber just across the private corridor, and Rhaegar resting in his own little room beside them.

Lirri and Arro were settled in nearby chambers, close enough to keep watch over the little ones if needed.

In their own quarters, Valaena stood in front of the wardrobe, looking frustrated as she held one dress after another up against her naked body, sighing as none of them felt quite right.

Behind her, Aemond was already dressed in his usual black breeches and leather jerkin, an amused smile dancing on his lips as he watched her fuss over her choices.

After a few moments, Aemond got up, moving behind her and sliding his hands over her waist and then gently over her growing stomach.

He leaned down to nuzzle her neck, his lips grazing her skin. “Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” he murmured against her ear (My beautiful wife).

She let out a soft laugh as he turned her around, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers, asking, “What’s troubling you?”

She sighed, glancing at the pile of dresses. “I can’t find an appropriate dress. Nothing fits properly anymore. My breasts have gotten larger, and none of these dresses cover them properly. I don’t want to feel overexposed.” She crossed her arms in exasperation, glancing at him with a half-smile.

Aemond’s lips quirked up as he gently placed his hands on her chest, cupping the weight of her breasts, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples “You won’t get any argument from me,” he teased.

Valaena huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’m serious, Aemond. We’re about to have dinner with our parents for the first time in six years, and none of these will do. Either they’re too revealing, or I feel like I’ll overheat.”

He took a step back and reached into the wardrobe, pulling out a deep, elegant floor-length gown with short sleeves. “What about this one?”

She eyed it thoughtfully. “It’ll have to do, I suppose though it still doesn’t solve the issue with the top.”

“Use the sashes on the back as a wrap,” he suggested. “They should offer some cover-”

Her eyes brightened. “That’s a good idea.” She took the dress and made her way toward the privacy screen, only for Aemond to reach for her arm, halting her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a possessive look in his eye.

“To get dressed?” she replied with a playful arch of her brow.

“I wish to watch,” he insisted, his voice low and warm. “I don’t want you hiding any part of yourself from me.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she smiled and let the privacy screen be. She slipped on a thin shift, glancing at him shyly before reaching for her small clothes.

Aemond’s hand touched her wrist. “No,” he said, voice rough with desire. “Leave them off.”

Valaena smirked as she set them aside and stepped into the gown. Aemond moved behind her to fasten the small buttons and ties, his fingers grazing her back as he worked.

She then moved to the vanity, slipping her rings on and fastening her well-worn leather gauntlet bearing the Targaryen sigil.

It was a bit tattered, a testament to how often she wore it—a symbol of her pride in their family and the fact it was a gift from Daemon.

When she reached for her brush, Aemond gently caught her hand. “May I?”

She nodded, handing him the brush, and he began to gently pass it through her long dark hair, careful and slow.

She disliked anyone else handling her hair, yet here she was, relaxed under his gentle touch. It felt intimate, grounding, as if it connected them even more deeply.

When he finished, he set the brush on the vanity and helped her stand.

Aemond gazed at her, his hand lingering at her waist. “I am truly blessed to have you as my wife.”

Valaena smiled, sliding her hands up into his long silver hair and kissing him deeply.

“-And I am blessed to have you as my husband”

Aemond leaned into her, a look of quiet intensity in his eye.

“When this dinner is over,” he whispered, “I’m taking you to bed and fucking you til morning-”

Valaena laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t run too long.”

Aemond and Valaena stood side by side outside the grand dining room, hands clasped tightly. Aemond gave her a reassuring look, squeezing her hand. “Are you ready?”

Valaena took a steadying breath, nodding. “It’s now or never.”

He nodded to the guards, and the heavy doors swung open with a formal announcement. “Princess Valaena and Prince Aemond.”

Inside, the gathered family rose—Rhaenyra, Daemon, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron—each watching their entrance with expressions ranging from joy to curiosity.

Then, Daemon’s voice rang out, filled with an almost raw emotion. “Tala” (Daughter).

Valaena’s face softened, and she smiled at her stepfather as he approached, his usually stern expression softened.

Valaena murmured, “Kepa-” (Father).

In the next moment, they embraced, tightly, as though afraid to let go. When they finally parted, Daemon quickly brushed away the tears that had traced lines down his cheeks, casting an almost embarrassed look aside.

Daemon’s expression hardened as he looked at Aemond, his features sharpening as he scoffed.

Turning away, he strode off without another word. Valaena bristled, her voice sharp as she called after him, “-Daemon.”

She moved to follow him, but Aemond gently took her hand, shaking his head. She turned back to him, and his gaze reassured her, a silent reminder of the purpose of tonight.

Together, they walked toward Alicent, who greeted them warmly. Alicent clasped Valaena’s hand, her smile bright yet laced with emotion as they exchanged a few kind words.

Helaena soon joined them, and Valaena hugged her tightly, whispering a soft, “Thank you.”

Helaena returned the embrace, her own voice tender. “I knew you would both find your way back home.”

Aegon then came over, grinning widely as he threw an arm around Valaena. “Good sister,” he said with a smirk, raising a goblet. “Come, have some wine.”

Valaena held up a hand. “No, thank you.” Aegon’s gaze shifted downward, his smirk turning into a playful, mocking grin.

“Ah, yes, I see that my brother has you stuffed with his child,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Daeron let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s enough, brother.”

Valaena turned to Daeron, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. “You were but a boy the last time I saw you. And now here you are, a man grown.”

Daeron blushed, looking down before meeting her gaze. “Thank you. I hope we can get to know one another now-” He hesitated, then added with a small smile, “-that you’re not dead.”

Valaena laughed, touched by his sincerity.

Aegon, however, leaned in, eyes glinting mischievously. “And if you want, we could get to know each other a little better too-”

Aemond’s eye darkened, and with a low, irritated growl, he looped his arm around Valaena’s waist, firmly pulling her away from his brother’s reach.

At the table, Valaena took her seat, and Aegon, eyeing the spot next to her, moved to sit there himself, only to be elbowed aside as Aemond took the seat instead.

As they all settled down for the meal, Rhaenyra’s soft voice broke the brief silence. “To our family-whole once more” she toasted, her eyes lingering on Aemond and Valaena with unspoken relief and gratitude.

As they ate, Daemon’s voice, already thick with wine, rang across the table. “So, nephew, where have you been hiding yourself these last years?”

Aemond took a measured breath, feeling Valaena’s reassuring hand on his thigh before replying. “We travelled Essos for a time, then settled in Qarth.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in his smile. “And tell me, just how did you manage to support your little jaunt around Essos? Must’ve cost quite a bit to find shelter and provide food, for yourselves and the dragons”

“We all know that dragons are more than capable of hunting” said Valaena.

“Indeed-but that still doesn’t answer my question,” said Daemon.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he replied smoothly, “I took some coin from the treasury.”

Daemon scoffed. “You mean you stole it.”

“That is enough” muttered Rhaenyra as she placed a calming hand on Daemon’s arm, but he yanked it away.

“-Actually, I want to know whose idea it was to let everyone believe that you were dead.”

Aemond held his gaze steadily. “It was mine.”

Daemon chuckled bitterly. “Of course, I knew it.” He reached for his goblet; eyes narrowed. “And why you went along with it is beyond me,” he muttered, looking pointedly at Valaena.

Valaena’s voice quavered as she replied, “It was the only way we could be together. We knew our relationship would never be accepted—”

Daemon’s eyes flashed. “You’re damn right it wouldn’t have been accepted.”

Valaena gasped, “Daemon—” But he slammed his fist on the table, rattling goblets and silencing the room.

“Do you have any idea the pain that you caused your mother?” he thundered, his voice low with barely controlled rage. “She had just lost Visenya, and then you go and let her believe she lost you, too.” His words struck like blows, and tears filled Valaena’s eyes. “-For five years, I watched my wife’s heart shatter, thinking that you were dead, while the whole time you were across the Narrow Sea, spreading your legs like a whore for that one-eyed cunt-”

Valaena’s lip trembled as she fought to hold back a sob. “Stop it!” she cried, but Daemon only pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“If I had known about your so called relationship, I would have kept you two apart by force if necessary. I’d have thrown you in the dungeons and forced drink moon tea down your throat to stop you birthing his spawn!”

Aemond, enraged, rose from his chair. “You dare speak to my wife like that?” he growled.

Daemon, unsteady on his feet, sneered. “I will speak to my daughter however I please, especially after the pain she caused by allowing you to drag her into your scheme. Typical Hightower behaviour-where there’s a scheme there’s always one of you green cunts behind it”

The room fell into stunned silence, all eyes fixed on Daemon as Valaena rose from the table.

Her face went from shock to fury as she seized a jug of wine and threw its contents all over Daemon, completely soaking him.

“You want wine? There, have it. I hope you fucking drown in it. Don’t you dare speak about me or my husband like that again! It’s that very attitude that drove us away in the first place.”

Without another word, Valaena turned and stormed out of the room, Aemond quickly following.

Her anger simmered as she marched through the winding halls of the Red Keep, muttering to herself.

When they reached their chambers, she paced, her words spilling out as she ripped the leather gauntlet from her arm, tossing it to the floor. “How dare he! What was he thinking—Fucking disgraceful behaviour”

Aemond locked the door, his face unreadable as he approached her and cupped her face in his hands.

“Gīda ñuha zaldrīzes,” he murmured, his voice gentle. (Calm, my dragon)

“But he—” Her voice faltering as Aemond silenced her with a kiss, deep and grounding.

When Aemond pulled back, Valaena whispered angrily, “He deserves to have his throat cut.”

Aemond kissed her again, hands steady on her shoulders. “Nārhēdegon zirȳla, sagon kesīr lēda nyke sir,” he said, voice a quiet command. (Forget him. Be here with me now).

Valaena took a shuddering breath, nodding as she felt the ties of her dress loosening under his touch.

“Please Aemond” whispered Valaena as her dress slipped from her body, the material pooling at her feet.

“Nārhēdegon se vys, zȳha sepār īlva”  muttered Aemond as he encouraged Valaena to lay on their bed (Forget the world, it’s just us).

“Gūrogon hen aōha grēze valzȳrys” replied Valaena as she reclined against the pillows (Take off your clothes husband).

Aemond stood before Valaena, his intense gaze never leaving hers as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

Slowly, with deliberate intent, he unfastened it, drawing the leather free from his waist and letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud.

Next, he shrugged off his leather jerkin, exposing the defined lines of his shoulders.

He placed it aside, and his hands moved to his cotton shirt, fingers working each button open one by one, his gaze still locked on hers as he slid it off, revealing the taut muscles beneath.

Aemond held her gaze with a slight, knowing smile as his hands dropped to the waistband of his breeches.

He took his time loosening them, then let them slide down, his small clothes following soon after, leaving him bared to her in the soft glow of the room.

Finally, he lifted his hand to the strap over his head, slipping it free and pulling off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire where his left eye had once been.

He stepped toward her, his form both fierce and vulnerable, offering himself completely.

Then gently laid down next to her. His mouth claimed hers and his teeth pulled at her plump bottom lip.

Moving his hand down her body, he slid two long fingers into her cunny and speared them in and out of her at a slow gentle pace. His palm bumped against her pearl with each movement of his hand.

“Oh, Aemond” moaned Valaena desperately.

Aemond withdrew his hand from her wet centre and manoeuvred himself down the bed, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her skin, as he reached his desired destination he hooked his hands around her thighs, and his mouth descended on her cunny.

Ravenously, he pressed into her core with his tongue. Valaena clutched at his head with one hand, whilst her other hand fisted the sheet.

Aemond withdrew from her soaking wet core and lashed hard at her clitoris with his tongue, pulling on it with his lips. He was hard, fast, and brutal, alternating between her assaulted bundle of nerves and drinking deep from her cunny.

Valaena ground down on Aemond, his tongue speared deeper inside her, as she felt the warm curl of her peak approach.

Yet Aemond withdrew and Valaena whimpered with frustration at the denial of her peak.

“So wet for me” muttered Aemond, his voice husky.

"P-Please Aemond. I-I need you” moaned Valaena.

Aemond smiled as he turned her over to her side and began suckling on her exposed neck.

"I want to feel you come all over my cock" growled Aemond.

Aemond lifted her leg and slowly slid his cock into her cunny.

Valaena grabbed hold of the sheet, and closed her eyes, letting out a gratifying moan.

Reaching back, she entwined her fingers into his long silver hair and whimpered, "More, Give me more".

Once Aemond was fully sheathed, he carefully grasped hold of her waist and started to slowly thrust into her.

"My sweet wife. How I love the feeling of your wet cunny squeezing my cock” exclaimed Aemond, his hot breath caressing her neck.

Valaena was so wet that he almost lost his grip and slipped out, but he managed to remain ensconced within her as he continued to thrust into her sweet tight cunt.

The sweat off her back rubbed against his chest and her moans and muffled groans were sweet music to his ears.

Aemond snaked a hand between her legs and rubbed her pearl repeatedly until the rise of heat engulfed her and toppled her right off the edge.

"Aemond, don't stop, my love" gasped Valaena, her cunny clenching his cock.

“Fuck, Valaena. Yes, that’s it” moaned Aemond thrusting one final time as he exploded deep inside her, rope after rope of his seed painting her inner walls.

Aemond buried his face in her dark hair and breathed in her familiar scent.

As he went to pull his softened cock from her, Valaena stopped him.

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer. Please”

Aemond nodded and pressed closer to his wife’s warm body.

A feeling of pure love shot through him, as he nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose.

TBC

[even-disco-baby]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

[crowandmousewritingco]

The Correspondence of the Contagious

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x gn!reader x Ellaria Sand

Words: 1.4 k

Rating: G

Summary: Oberyn is away for a few days and illness comes to Dorne.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This is one of my entries in @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Challenge! This was so fun to write (and thanks to Mod Crow for the help!) Hopefully I'll have the other fic out next week.

My Dearest Viper, 

I hope the Northern kingdoms aren’t dimming your fiery spirit. I know you were hesitant to adventure so far away from your paramores, but I assure you we aren’t going anywhere. Soon you’ll return to the warm embrace of your land and your lovers. On your return we shall keep you in your room drinking and enjoying the company, filling us with as much pleasure as we could handle. 

Dorne is still quite warm despite the seasons changing. Ellaria and I have been spending our days basking in the sun while we still can. We even made up a nice lunch that we enjoyed under the lemon trees in the grove that you adore so much. Once we were full of delicacies (and a taste of each other) we followed the path through the Water Gardens. We look like pies straight from the oven with the amount of sun on our skins. But it was much needed for the both of us. 

Although something must have kicked up some retched pollen because Ellaria has been stuffed up since then. She insists she is okay (you know how stubborn she gets with this sort of affair), but after some well placed cuddles, she allowed herself some rest. That’s where she is right now. Snuggled up beside me as I write this to you. She’s as beautiful as always with her dark hair spread out like crow feathers on our shared pillows. I wish I could illustrate how beautiful she is. You would delight in the sight of her my dear as I am in this moment of time.

With plenty of rest and your herbal tea mix, she should be right as rain in a day or so. No need to worry your little Prince head about. I can handle our lover’s moods while you handle your duties. We shall see you in a fortnight. I shall pray to the Seven for your safety on your journey. 

Your Dove. 

My Dearest Viper,

I know politics have kept you busy so I hope this letter finds you well. At least in a better condition than our paramore. I fear that whatever illness has graced her body has stayed longer than the foreseen time. Her sniffling has turned into a cold. Poor thing has been coughing bouts that last several minutes. Diluted wine helps in the end but only after acquiring a sore throat. 

That wasn't the only thing she received from this illness. She has acquired a bit of a fever over the last few hours and her energy has lessened. But the Maester believes it’s just the bug that has been spreading throughout the castle. He has given her more herbal remedies and plenty of rest as her medication. 

I will continue to watch her with a careful eye. Once again she is resting beside me. Even in sickness she has my deepest love and adoration. I thank the gods every day that I get to be simply in her presence. 

When she wakes I shall see if she wants to spend some time on our balcony. The Maester said that sunlight would be a nice addition to her healing. Oh and I’ll have those berries brought from the kitchen for her to snack on. She was delighted when we went for our walk. They shall lift her spirit and body. 

I’m afraid my time with you is cut short my dear. Our lover stirs beside us. I will write to you once she finds slumber again. I hope the North is treating you as well as they can. 

Your Dove.

My Dearest Viper 

I pray to the Seven that you receive this letter. I’m afraid the sickness was much worse than anyone could have expected. Her fever is at an ultimate and she hasn’t eaten for a few days. The Maester claims that she will arrive on the other side of this pestilence mountain and I am hopeful too. But it’s hard to have reassurance when your lover shakes like the leaves in the wind. Pelts have been placed on her body but they do nothing to keep her from shivering. She sleeps like a princess with a spell placed on her. I rouse her only to eat and drink. 

I pray your journey will end soon so that your presence can heal her as much as mine. I didn’t want to raise your worry while you were away, but I’m scared. Less severe sickness has taken loved ones, and my soul is in an unrest. I wish for your strength my dear. You have an aptitude for these sorts of situations. 

I wish to keep writing to you, for I feel your presence in these words, but I fear I’ve run out of subjects to discuss. Please return soon my dearest Oberyn. 

Your Dove

What you didn’t tell Oberyn was that you were suffering the same ailments Ellaria was currently experiencing. Your fever was just as high as Ellaria’s and you clung together in sickness, bodies shaking in unison. The need for food seemed like a distant afterthought, and your stomach cramp every time you coughed. 

Ellaria whimpered and your head peaked up. You had tuned your senses to anything she might need during this time even if it meant ignoring your own needs. “My love, let me get you something to drink.” You weakly kissed your head as it took all of your energy to even sit up but you had to do this for her. 

You swung your legs over the sides. The wind felt cold against your bare skin despite the warm summer heat still lingering. Your breath seemed to struggle to enter your lungs, but you pushed yourself up. Ellaria needed you; your body be damned. Carefully your hands braced themselves on the wall. Using the rough texture as your guide, you shuffled your feet in slow deliberate steps. 

But the pestilence in your body had made you weak, for your legs could no longer hold your weight. As you felt yourself pitch forward a strong pair of arms was the only thing stopping you from hitting the ground. The sudden stoppage of momentum threw you off and you couldn’t make heads or tails of what just occurred.

A familiar voice filled the room. “My dove what are you doing out of bed?” You glanced up despite the pounding in your head. Oberyn looked down at your body with worry. Gently he situated you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I thought…you’re here,” You said and the weight of the last days finally made themselves known. You teared up and Oberyn guided your weak head to his shoulder, letting your body rest against his chest. 

“I’m here dove,” He soothed your anxieties. Up and down your back his hands soothed your anxieties. He could feel the exhaustion in the way you held your body. You went to speak, but a coughing fit seized you instead. 

“Easy love,” Oberyn soothed, sitting you up slightly, holding your weakened body up. You whimpered as the coughs turned into labored breathing before calming down completely. 

“I-I thought you would never return,” You whispered as tears formed in your tired eyes. 

“My dove. I left the Northern kingdoms as soon as I heard of Ellaria’s ailment,” He reassured you gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead. “Those clever ravens still found me. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill too?” 

Tears streamed down your hot cheeks, and with a gentle swipe of his thumb, Oberyn rid of them. “I-I…I was so worried about Ellaria.” 

“Shhh none of that now. I know you were so brave my dearest, but now let me care for my paramores,” Oberyn kissed your forehead before gently laying you back alongside Ellaria. 

Just like you had done for the last several days, you curled up beside her touching your fevered heads together. Oberyn arranged the blankets back into place. He turned around and grabbed the washcloths from the nearby water basin, wringing the excess water. With a gentleness unusual to such a warrior, he placed the cloths, one on Ellaria’s forehead and then one on yours. 

You sighed at the cooling relief of the water, and you felt your eyes drooping the weight of handling this alone dissipating. A gentle hand caressed your cheek. “Rest now my dove. I’m here now,” Oberyn whispered, leaning down to kiss your chapped lips. With your safety net here, you finally let yourself relax as a much needed sleep consumes your consciousness.

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

Thanks to the lovely @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

[intoxicated-chan]

Since you're requests are open👉👈 I was wondering if I could request a fluff one-shot with legolas? Legolas and his spouse welcoming their first child into the world? Like they went on an adventure, halfway through reader falls pregnant and instead of turning back they (he) built their dream home and started their life together. Just a domestic, fluffy fic.

𝐎𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

Summary ➳ What was supposed to be an adventure turned into a chase until you and Legolas went to Rivendell to relax and to reveal some good news.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Love Story” by Indila. Hello! I’m not sure if this is what you wanted, so please don’t be afraid to ask me. I’m working on things slowly since I don’t want to rush which is why it took awhile to post. P.s I might make a pt 2 where it’s just the reader, Legolas and their little family. Credits to @/saradika for the lotr banner!!

Word Count ➳1.6k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, light sexual content, hickies, established relationship, mentions of violence, Thranduil is kinda jerk, pregnancy, mentions of multiple pregnancies…

You awoke to the cold breeze gazing at your exposed back, you took a moment to move slowly as you were still sore from the night before. The thick blanket rested on your lower half, leaving the rest of you exposed to the elements.

You turn your head to the right, the sound of carving wood caught your attention, and the sound coming from Legolas. His legs were crossed as sat on a tree stump. His eyes narrowed slightly, taking a few seconds to check his progress or to see any mistakes before he continued.

Even though he seemed focused, his face was relaxed, his hair braided back to keep it out of his face, and he was dressed in a thin tunic and trousers. Legolas looked in your direction when you moved, the leaves crunching under you as you wrapped the blanket around your exposed body.

“Sleep well?” Legolas sneered, staring at the hickey on your neck that was barely covered.

“Ha-Ha.” You rolled your eyes as you moved closer to him, sitting at the fire that he made. “What’s that?” You questioned, looking at the wood in his hands.

You reached for it only for him to pull it away from your grasp. “It’s a surprise.” Legolas tucked the wood away and into his bag, setting his daggers to the side.

“You seemed to be having lots of surprises, care to tell me why?” You laid your head on his lap, feeling his hand run through your hair.

“It’s still a surprise.” Legolas chuckled at your playful scoff. “We should continue to move, that is if we wish to avoid my father’s men.”

You let out a muffled whine. “He isn’t going to stop, is he?” Legolas shakes his head. You pull the blanket tighter. “I hope we head somewhere warm. I despise the cold… Perhaps we could visit Rivendell, I’m sure Lord Elrond would be happy to see you.”

“But my father wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Since when did you consider your father’s opinion?”

“I’m… Not quite sure.” You moved your head off his lap when he began to stand. “But let us visit Lord Elrond, I would like a break from sleeping on the ground.”

You too stood. “To Rivendell then.” When you turned to grab your items, his arms wrapped around you to pull you into his chest.

“Lord Elrond isn’t in a hurry, I’m sure he could wait a few more weeks.” Legolas nuzzled into your neck.

“It seems to me that you’re just dying to get caught by your father.” You laughed, feeling his breath tickle you.

“Just a couple more minutes.”

“I can assure you that Thranduil wouldn’t dare march an army into Rivendell, let alone demand his own son return to Mirkwood without said son putting up a fight.” Elrond spoke to Legolas, they both stood on a balcony that overlooked you and Arwen.

Elrond could try all he wanted to calm Legolas’s thoughts of his father doing something drastic but he could see how Legolas looks at you. “...He wouldn’t dare to hurt her. He may be cold but he’s not a monster.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Legolas admitted. He could sound convincing to anyone but Elrond can sense the tension in his voice. “But he’d do anything to scare her off. He never spoke of anything when I chose to spend my life with her and marry her, even Tauriel didn’t know. It seems that he has a problem with it now.”

“Give it time, soon Thranduil’s eyes will open and he’ll see how happy his son is.”

You and Arwen left Elrond and Legolas to talk. You walked with her around Rivendell, arm in arm, listening to each other’s stories and catching up. “And how’s Aragorn? I heard that he’s going by Strider now.”

“I am saddened that he chose to leave Rivendell all those years ago but… What do they say?” Arwen asked you.

“Made it work, you mean?”

“Yes.” If Arwen’s smile couldn’t get any bigger… “But it makes me wonder, what are you and Legolas doing in Rivendell? Did something happen in Mirkwood?”

“No, no- I mean, ever since Legolas chose me to be with me, it was like a sudden change in his father. It’s hard for me to accept that Thranduil is his father. I don’t even know that being pregnant will change his mind.”

“One shouldn’t think like that, plaguing your mind with-” Arwen froze in her tracks and looked you directly in your eyes. “You’re with child? A babe? Does Legolas know?”

You stop as well. “I was thinking I’d tell him tonight. But unsure how, he’s already stressed with his father’s men following us. How am I supposed to tell him that I’m pregnant?”

“Approach him carefully about it, sit by the waterfall and reminisce about anything and everything.” Awren pulls her arm back, only for her to fix your hair and clothes. “It doesn’t have to be over the finest dinner or intimacy. It will be perfect with just the two of you.”

“I sometimes believe that I do not deserve you Arwen.”

“I will always be here if you need me, you are my friend.” Arwen takes you by the hand and leads you to Rivendell’s infirmary. “Come, we must make sure the babe is alright.”

Legolas received word from Arwen that you wished to meet to discuss an important matter. Arwen sounded excited but it made Legolas go into a panic for some reason. It felt like hours when he was looking for you, yet it was only a few minutes later when he found you sitting next to a stream.

“There you are, I was beginning to believe that you were planning something.” Legolas came closer, taking a seat beside you. “I know that look, you have something to tell me. If you do not wish to discuss it then do force yourself.”

“No, I… I need to say it. It’s just been a grueling time going from one place and to another. But I cannot say that the journey didn’t have some ups as well. Especially that time a bird startled you, causing you to fall into the water.” You giggled.

“If my memory serves me right, it wasn’t the bird but in fact you. You came from behind and pushed me.” Legolas corrected.

“Not very graceful, is it?”

“Lord Elrond said we could remain here for as long as we like. But like you said, we could head South, find some place to relax for once.”

“Wouldn’t your father find us?”

“Most likely but he wouldn’t risk going too far from his borders and put a chance into his men’s lives.”

“Well… It doesn’t matter where we decide to retire, as long as our child is safe.”

Your words took a matter of minutes to hit Legolas. His eyes widened. “A-Are you certain? For how long?” He grinned, ear to ear as he placed a hand on your stomach.

“About six weeks, maybe seven.” Your hand comes to clasps his hand tightly. “I meant what I said, it doesn’t matter where we go. It would be a home to me.”

“First an adventure, then chased by my father’s men, and now a child. Quite a journey it has been, but I wouldn’t ask for anything else.” Legolas puts his forehead against yours, his other hand feeling the braids in your hair.

You let Legolas choose where to settle, it was perfect. It was a small forest, and where he chose, there was a spacious land with a pond and stream not far. It wasn’t long before you both started planning and then building.

“Shouldn’t it be quite bigger?” Legolas questioned, standing where you were to look at the nearly finished wooden house. “In case of future children?”

You smack his shoulder. “One at a time, Legolas. One at a time.” You smiled. “We could add more rooms later on. Perhaps a second floor and a fireplace? I rather not freeze during the winter.”

“One at a time.” Legolas horribly mimicked your voice, getting another slap to the shoulder. His hands come over to your obvious baby bump. “Thought of any names yet?”

“I was hoping you’d have any.”

“How about Elwyn for a boy and Siofra for a girl?”

“I like the sound of them.” You looked back at the house. “What is left?”

“I just have to make sure it doesn’t collapse on us and head into the closest town to search for herbs and such. It shouldn’t be a long trip.”

Legolas took your hand to lead you into the home, it would need some decorations as it felt bare but it was perfect nonetheless. “It feels like yesterday when you asked me to join you on another adventure. Or when you proposed and married me.”

He runs his hand over the walls of the home. “We shall create new memories here, just us and our children. Forget my father and those who disagree. This house will be filled with warmth, and I will make sure it will remain protected.”

“Remember-” Your cup his face with your hands, running your thumb over his cheeks. “This house is also for us to relax, I believe we will be safe.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop worrying.”

“Good, the babe should be coming in a couple of days. I already have enough things to worry about.”

“That reminds me.” Legolas moved from your grasp and towards his bag where he pulled out the wood that he was carving months ago. He shaped it into a horse. “I wanted to give this to you early but working on the house kept me from finishing it, a gift for the babe.”

“It’s amazing Legolas.” You took it into your hands carefully. “I’m sure they will love it.”

You never thought you’d have this in your life. You never thought you could have any of this, and you would never ask for a change. This is all you need.

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[natewriteslol]

Scarabia getting Jealous

Warnings: gender neutral reader

Kalim:

-It’s incredibly difficult to get Kalim jealous, I mean he’s not stupid but he is quite oblivious to a majority of things.

-So when you’re partying in Scarabia, seperating to get a drink whilst everyone is dancing something caught his ruby eyes. A man had come and caressed your shoulder, his posture and face looking sleezy.

-Maybe it was just a friend! But you didn’t look like you knew him...

-So that caused him to just go up and take you away from the entire situation since you looked uncomfortable. But the man did not want to leave you alone and was persistent

- “What do you think we’re doing we were having a conversation, you brat?”

- “Do you, know who I am? You must be confused but I am dorm leader, Kalim Al-Asim, apart of the Al-Asim family and host of this party. If you could just please step back from my wonderful partner that would be great!” Kalim explained, but his tone didn’t sound like he was sharing a fun fact

-It sounded like a threat.

- “C’mon Y/N I’ve gotta show you something!” Kalim giggled, steering you outside, toward one of the balconies of the Scarabia dorm and as soon as you stepped on Kalim let out a whistle, taking you away from the sandy terrain on a magic carpet.

- “I’m sorry for being so abrupt I just...I got a little mad watching that guy be all touchy with you” the white-haired boy said looking off into the distance.

-You giggled at his slight pout before questioning, “Kalim, are you jealous?”

- He sighed before he looked at you, “...A little- don’t be mad at me!” he begged, waving his hands.

-You laughed at him, picking him up by his shoulders, “Kalim there’s nothing for me to be mad about, and nothing for you to worry about,” before planting a soft kiss on his nose.

-One thing about you is that you always knew how to make people feel better :)

Jamil:

-He’s always been used to having things taken away from him, so Jamil was definitely afraid of losing you to something or someone.

-You both may have not been exactly dating just yet, but you were far too close to just be labeled as friends. Jamil attempted to neglect his feelings, yet he couldn’t help but get hot blooded over the display in front of him.

Some beastman from Savanaclaw stood, blocking your way from walking as he talked about the patches littered across his letterman jacket. Jamil knew he was a star athlete for basketball in Night Raven, but he couldn’t stand the look on his face.

-He knew you were looking for a way out, so when he wizzed pass, turning around to get another view of the situation for a split moment and you saw his long hair you bolted, yelling his name

- “Like I said before, I’m running late now move” you said to the guy as you sped up, ““Jamil, wait up!”

- As you caught your breath he looked at you with a solemn expression, “So who was that? Do you know him?”

- “Not really, he just stopped me when I was on my way out, why do you ask?” He couldn’t get mad at you, besides he couldn’t say anything exactly, so what could he say?

- “Don’t hang around him, he’s bad news and has terrible hygiene, Y/N,” he said, trying to make an excuse so that you won’t spend time with him. But with the light blush that decorated his cheeks and a slight fidget which made him touch your hand, you could tell something was up.

- “Jamil…are you jealous-?”

- “Absolutely not, don’t bring those accusations to my character, Y/N” he said, upset and waving his hand around but you still laughed at Jamil’s actions. But he knew something for sure, he had to make you his soon.