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fortheloveofarchons · 2 months

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You're In A Vampire Hunter's Ball, With Some Familiar Members...

C.W. Vampires, vampire hunters, drinking blood, biting, smut, aftercare

Characters included in this fanfic besides Pierro are Childe, Pantalone, Arlecchino, La Signora, Pantalone, Capitano, and a mention of Pulcinella

Full version in the link down below! Happy belated Valentine's Day btw!

In the ballroom where crystal chandeliers and luxurious fabrics are adorned and draped, a palpable tension hung in the air as you concealed yourself among the elegantly attired crowd, hiding in the shadows at the corner. While the couples would waltz in the middle of the ballroom with rhythmic cadence, your eyes blink a bit rapidly as you surveyed the room.

Dressed in an exquisite dark blue gown that shimmered like moonlight, you move carefully, trying to not draw attention to yourself. Your black eye contacts fortunately conceals your vampiric red eyes, yet it did little to mask the hunger that gnawed at your insides. The scent of blood– of pulsating life surrounded you, a tantalising aroma that sent shivers down your spine.

“So hungry…” You mutter the words out.

As the ball is filled with vampire hunters, your heightened senses would often pick up on conversations discussing recent vampire sightings and the latest hunting techniques. Every word sends a chill down your spine, and you clutch the edges of your gown.

Being distracted from hunger, you didn’t realise that a man was walking towards you. Your vision, that stared aimlessly through the ballroom, is interrupted with a crystal goblet, one that contains a familiar aroma. The thirst for blood intensified with each passing moment, threatening to expose your true nature.

Your eyes quickly flicker to find the ginger-haired man with cold blue eyes, handing you the goblet with a smile on his face.

“Hey, didn’t you say you were hungry?” It looks like he didn't take no for an answer, pushing the goblet into your palms. “Come on, don’t tell me you were trying to hold your hunger in a room full of vampire hunters.”

You quickly take the goblet from his hand, compose yourself, and delicately sip the deep red liquid, trying to keep your composure. Any sudden movement or slip of control could spell disaster in the presence of these vampire hunters, after all.

“Thank you.” You hand him the goblet back, your tongue licking your upper lip to remove any traces of blood. “...Wait, you are–”

“You can just call me Childe, or Tartaglia if that’s what you prefer.” Childe smiles at you. “Are you perhaps looking for Lord Pierro?”

You quickly nod. After all, for a man who supposedly invited you into a hunter’s den, you’re surprised to find him gone.

“He actually sent me to find you.” Childe explains, fiddling with the collar of his suit. “He wants you to go into the private lounge room.”

“Are you coming with me, then?” You ask, hoping that he might accompany you even though he’s the eleventh ranking of the vampire hunters. Perhaps it's because he’s close to Pierro that made you feel a bit relieved.

“I’m afraid not.” That made your heart sink. “I have to leave early to catch up with Pulcinella, he has some important matters to discuss with me.”

“Does it have something to do with your fami–” Your lips became thin and firm, shutting yourself up. You have heard stories about his family from Pierro during the nights when you are in bed with him. However, instead of Childe’s eyes being icy cold and his lips pursed with suppressed fury, he lets out a hearty laugh.

“Aha~ It’s okay,” Childe waves dismissively. “I don't really mind talking about my family to anyone! In fact, I enjoyed talking to anyone about them.”

“Oh,” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I see, that’s good then–”

“After all, it’s a fine way to deceive my enemies to think that we’re getting along well, and much closer… until they feel a sharp spike in their hearts, and soon… they can see smoke coming out of them.”

Childe studies you with a crazed look on his face: Icy stare boring into you, the muscles along his jaw clench, his hand holding onto what seems to be a pure silver dagger that hangs around his thigh. All you could do was stand there and freeze yourself to the ground. Were you scared? Yes, but you knew you wouldn’t get hurt considering that Lord Pierro wants you.

Childe then releases his grip on his dagger, rubbing the back of his head with another hearty laughter.

“Just kidding!” He pats you on the back of your shoulder, which makes you shiver from his cold gloves being in contact with your open shoulders. “I gotta go now. Oh– about the room, it’s just right down that red hall.”

Before you could even say a word, Childe runs off, but not before he turns to you and gives you a wave with a smile on his face.

“See ya!”

“I– See you, I guess…”

With a reluctant sigh, you hike up your dress and make your way towards the red hallway. Stopping in front of a large door, you take a deep breath and push the door, walking your way into the room. The room was bathed in a dim, sultry ambiance, with crimson velvet drapes hanging from ornate windows, casting shadows to the lavish furnishing.

As you stepped into the room, you sensed an unusual tension in the air. The low hum of whispered conversations ceased abruptly, replaced by an unsettling stillness as the members turned their attention towards you.

To your surprise, you found yourself surrounded by some familiar members of the Fatui Harbingers, their presence as alluring as it was threatening.

In this room, besides you, lies Lady Signora, Lord Pantalone, and Lord Arlecchino.

On a fancy mahogany sofa, lies Lady Signora. Her long blond hair braided into a neat bun, with some long stands of her hair cascading down to her legs. Her dress consists of a slim wine red gown made of silk organza, along with the blush prints of butterfly patterns appearing on her dress that truly made her look like the queen of crimson butterflies. Her open shoulders, one that is similar to your outfit as well, reveals her plump chest, with some strands of blond hair sitting on them.

“Is this perhaps his… ‘pet’?” She studies you with a critical squint, and that alone immediately makes you want to bury into a hole and die.

“Now, now, Fair Lady.” The man with square-framed glasses replies to her. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be too rude to a guest, that wouldn’t look good on us, hmm?”

La Signora argues with a puff of smoke from her cigarette holder. “The guest is a vampire.”

“And it would ruin the party if we make a bloodshed~” His sultry voice along with the sharp gaze made your body shiver. Lord Pantalone, the man with the black and white fur coat that complements well with his sleek, tailored dark purple suit highlighted both elegance and grace, seems to look at you as a formidable adversary, but also something… magnetic.

“Come,” He pats the sofa, gesturing to you to come over. “Sit next to me, miss.”

Although this feels like a carefully laid trap, what choice do you have. In front of you, all of their eyes bore into you, each glance carrying a mix of suspicion and readiness. Attempting to maintain an air of regal indifference, you square your shoulders and take a measured step forward, and sit next to Lord Pantalone.

And just right next to Lord Arlecchino, who has been silent this whole time. Her long sleeveless gown that draped gently over her lithe frame, exuding an aura of a graceful figure. The fabric of her gown flowed like liquid silk, while the absence of sleeves accentuated the graceful lines of her tainted blackened arms from the works of a delusion. You couldn’t help but take a peek at her arms, and that made Lord Arlecchino’s eyes linger on your face, memorising every detail.

“As a guest, it is impolite to stare and not greet someone.” Lord Arlecchino folds her arms , her gaze hardened, the spark of aversion flickering within it. “Has Jester not taught you anything when it comes to manners?”

You sit upright in your position, being too overwhelmed to move. “I– I’m sorry, Lord Arlecchino.”

You then gently take her hand, greeting it with a gentle kiss.

“It is an honour to meet you, and to be in your presence.”

You turn around, doing the same for Lord Pantalone, kissing his hand that was covered with a leather glove. “Lord Pantalone, it is an honour to meet a distinguished harbinger, and to be in your presence.”

“Ahem.” A familiar voice calls out across the room, as Lady Signora holds out her hand, slightly tilting her head. You are about to bend down, but then you remember that La Signora holds the title of a ‘Lady’, not a ‘Lord’.

“Wait a minute…”

Though Lady Signora was trying to hide it, the corners of her mouth were twitching upwards. “You really are… a foolish little vampire pet. I see why the Jester has chosen you in his inner circle.”

You let out a crimson blush from embarrassment.

Just then, the heavy door opens, revealing the silhouette of a weary figure. As Lord Il Capitano steps into the room, a hush falls over its occupants, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of blood.

“Goodness, Captain.” Signora pinches her nose. “Were you seriously killing vampires out there while a party was taking place?”

Killing… vampires? Your lips slightly part in silent terror, taking a glance up at him..

His silver armour, dented and stained with the remnants of battle, clanks softly with each step. His claymore, still gripped firmly in his hand, gleams dully in the dim light, its edge tinged crimson with the lifeblood of his fallen foes.

You couldn’t help but recoil in horror, your hands trembling in fear.

Especially when Lord Il Capitano is coming towards you.

With a low growl, you instinctively back away from him, your fangs baring in a silent snarl of defiance. Despite the amount of killings from the Captain, you recognize him as someone whose strength and power-hungry determination posed a grave threat to your kind.

He takes a few steps forward, with each stride, Capitano’s expression remained stoic, his features masked by the shadow of his helmet.

But just as it seemed that Capitano would unleash a blow upon you, he abruptly halted, his hand still hovering over the hilt of his claymore. Slowly, deliberately, Capitano lowers his hand.

"I could just end you with a single blow," He spoke, his voice low and gruff, yet tinged with a note of compassion. "But I choose not to."

You blink your eyes in surprise, your fear momentarily forgotten as you gaze up at the Captain in wonderment.

“You are under the Jester’s hands, after all.”

Ah… The gears in your mind click.

Your legs become soft like jelly, slumping onto the ground. Your heart slowly gains back a rhythmic beat, as you breathe heavily from the adrenaline of fear.

A sigh escapes from Capitano’s lips, seeing a fearful vampire in front of him. After all, as one whose title is called, ‘Captain’, fighting with someone whose strength is of the same level as him is much worthier to fight than someone like you.

He then bends down with one knee, extending a hand to you. “May I?”

Despite the fear in your heart, your shaky hand reaches out, holding onto the cold steel of his hand.

Even as a ruthless member, he’s still quite chivalrous... You mumble in your mind.

Capitano then pulls you up, his other hand holding onto your back, making your body shiver despite the barrier between your skin and his other hand is merely a fabric of your gown. You stand rigid with terror, being too overwhelmed to move.

“My, my~” Lord Pantalone locks his hands together, raising an eyebrow. “Being so forward, aren’t you, dear Captain ? If Jester were to see this, surely he would–”

Just then, you could hear heavy footsteps, and all eyes turn towards the entrance, drawn by the magnetic presence of the man with a towering figure.

Dressed in a black and dark blue tailored suit with intricate snowflakes on the corners of his suit, it hugs his muscular frame in all the right places. The fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and chiselled physique. With a wide twilight blue pelerine cape, it infused him with a quiet strength, showing a testament to his power and poise.

Seeing Pierro in that attire ignites a flush of warmth that spreads through your cheeks...

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miss-shawdowsinger · 1 year

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Soothing Darkness - Azriel X reader fanfic

Chapter 4

Summery: The dreaded shopping trip has arrived. Y/N and the others pick out the right dresses to wear to to the ball and the start of the ball begins.

Warnings: none

AN: eeeekkk I love how this chapter ends. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing. Please let me know your thoughts! ❤️

Chapter 1

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You sat in the warm water, letting it soak into your bones. Training had been intense that morning and you swore you had never sweated so much in your entire life. You seemed to catch the hint of amusement in Azriel’s eyes as you tried desperately to catch your breath after every exercise. You mentally scowled at him and carried on.

You had half an hour before 2pm. Half an hour before your shopping trip with Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. You tried to get out of it when you saw them at training that morning.

“Did you get my note?” Gwyn had asked when you landed at the training rings.

“Yes, I don’t think I can make it” you made your best fake upset face. “I can’t close the shop and….”.

“Of course you can” Nesta cut you off. “I will compensate you for any losses made for shutting for the day” she offered you a devilish smile. You weren’t sure if Nesta could read minds but she certainly knew your game.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that” you had stated.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling” was all Nesta said. “We will be at yours for 2pm” she waved you off with her hand. That was the end of that.

You stared at the clock in the room. Twenty minutes until you had to go. The bath was beginning to turn cold so you heaved yourself out and began to get ready. It was the beginning of winter so you opted for a thick jumper and dark, skin tight trousers. You let your hair flow loosely down your back and grabbed a woollen hat and scarf to keep you warm.

You grabbed the small pile of money you had put to on top of your dresser last night. Telling yourself that this is going to be worth it as you placed it in your purse. Just as you began pulling your boots on, there was a knock at the door. The three females were huddled together on your doorstep as you opened the door. They all wore their coats with hats and scarves but the cold day had made their cheeks and noses rosey red.

“I told you she wouldn’t make another excuse not to come” Nesta said as she looked you up and down. Taking in your winter attire. You blushed slightly at the comment. Was it that obvious that you didn’t want to go?

“I made you guys these for the trip” you brushed off the comment and handed them each a small paper bag with a cinnamon swirl in.

“Oh they are still warm, thank you” Gwyn straight away tucked into hers. Humming with delight as she ate.

The four of you made your way through the town of Velaris. The city was full of life as people already began decorating their, shops, houses and even the streets with winter solstice decorations. Lights shone brightly over each building, making the rainbow come alive with even more colour. If that was even possible.

“In here” Nesta brought you all to a large shop in the city centre. It had a beautifully decorated shop window. With gowns and suites of all shapes and sizes. She entered the shop, setting off the small bell over the top of the door. You followed inside and gathered in the front room, basking in the heat of the shop.

Looking around you could see dresses made in what seemed like every colour for every occasion. A small desk situated at the back of the front room had a small fae female stood behind. She peered over the desk and spotted Nesta. She was only small, standing at just under 5ft.

“Hello Nesta” she purred. “I have a room ready in the back for you girls. You are just on time” the small female took the four of us through to a back room where a large mirror stood, white sofas were situated around it. There were smaller changing rooms attached to the large back room. You drank in the whole space.

“Who will be going first?” the small fae shopkeeper asked. “Whatever you need, you will find it here. Even with those wings” she nodded to Emerie who smiled from ear to ear.

Everyone took it in turns to find the right outfit for the ball. Nesta went first. Trying on at least a dozen different dresses. All of which looked absolutely stunning on her. The fae female was happy to comply as she pulled out more and more dresses that she deemed would suit their figures.

Nesta decided to go with a black floor-length dress with long sleeves and a very low v-neckline. It dropped almost to her navel. The dress shimmered against the bright lights in the room. Gwyn went next, only trying on two dresses and decided to go with the first. It was a light blue to match her usual priestess’s cloak. It was classy and elegant, hugging all her features without showing off too much skin.

Emerie tried on a handful of dresses and decided to go with the emerald green, lace cut dress. It fit round her wings perfectly with a slight slit up the dress to show off her long smooth legs. You had sat contently, watching as each of them tried on the array of dresses. Giving your opinions when asked and sipping on the coffee the fae had provided.

“Last but not least” the female turned to you with her unblinking gaze. You sunk deeper into the sofa, wishing it would swallow you whole.

“Go on Y/N” Nesta elbowed you hard in the ribs. You scowled at her, but she narrowed her eyes at you. Daring you to not do as you were told. You felt like a child in trouble, so you pushed yourself out of the sofa and followed the fae to the changing rooms.

She had brought an array of dresses through that she thought would complement your figure. Each more extravagant than the last. You picked through them and tried them on but none of them seemed to look good on you. The others had looked so stunning in each of their dresses, but you couldn’t help feeling like the ugly duckling.

One made you look lumpy. The others colour drowned you out and the bright yellow one, was not even worth mentioning.

“Don’t worry. I am determined to find you the right dress” the little female went on a hunt through the many rooms which seemed to store hundreds of dresses. You slumped back into your previous position on the sofa, feeling slightly deflated. Even if you found the right dress, you wouldn’t be able to afford it from somewhere like this. It was all pointless.

“The second one wasn’t too bad” Emerie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. But the half hearted smile she gave you, told you otherwise.

“I found it” the small female shouted from another room. “Come through deary” you heaved yourself off the sofa once again and made your way into the changing room.

As soon as you were in the changing room she held the dress out for you to look at. Just like the others it looked beautiful, like something from a fairy tale book you had once read. It was cobalt blue and twinkled like starlight, over its smooth fabric. You stepped into the dress and the female helped you button the back.

Tentatively, you stepped out into the large room where the others were waiting for the eighteenth time today. Your shoulders were slumped as you made your way over to look at yourself in the large mirror. Gwyn and Emerie gasped as you walked out. It couldn’t possibly be that bad, could it?

You dared to look in the mirror and almost replicated their reaction. The dress hugged your figure perfectly. It had a love heart neckline, which accentuated your breasts and shaped them. It’s off the shoulder sleeves fell lightly on your upper arms, allowing for your chest and neck to be bare. It hung close to your upper body, framing your figure over your waist and hips. Falling loosely from your hips to the floor. It’s colour and the way it sparkled in the bright lights, brought out the colour in your eyes and complimented your complexion perfectly.

You gawked at the way this dress made you look. There wasn’t a time in your life where you had worn something that made you look beautiful. It was a change from your usual training clothes or flour covered apron. You stood taller, straightening your spine and raised your chin. It was like looking at a different person. You took in the full image, the newness of your toned body, thanks to the training.

“She will take it” Nesta walked around you with a smug smile on her face. Suddenly your heard stopped dead in your chest.

“Nesta, there is no way I can afford this dress” your voice barley above a whisper as you looked at the others in the room, hoping they hadn’t overheard you. Eyes pleading with Nesta no to make you buy it.

“You didn’t expect me to force you into shopping and then make you pay, did you?” the question hung in the air. You furrowed your brows in confusion which only made Nesta smirk. “The dress is on me and don’t even attempt to argue with me. You won’t win” she shrugged but her voice was laced with grit.

“Thank you” you smiled. Your heart melted slightly at the gesture and you glanced back at the mirror once again.

“You look stunning” Nesta said, looking at you through the mirror. You beamed from ear to ear, feeling tears sting your eyes but you swallowed them down.

You left the shop after Nesta had paid for all four dresses. The cold hitting you like an ice blast after the warm heated shop. You couldn’t thank Nesta enough for the dress as you walked through the busy city centre. There were still another couple of shops they informed you, that you would be visiting before returning home.

“You need shoes at least” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest as you exited the third jewellery shop. You had point blank refused to let her buy you anything else. Never mind the diamond necklace and matching earing set, which she tried to convince you would go perfectly with the dress.

“I have shoes” you rolled your eyes.

“Not ones that would go with that dress” she blew out a hot breath.

“You don’t know that” you shook your head.

“I –“ she paused, you could see her mind working to try find a comeback. “I don’t care, I’m buying you shoes” she pulled the three of you into a little shoe shop and picked out pairs for each of you. You knew she wouldn’t let you go home until she had at least bought you shoes to match the dress.

Once you had a beautiful pair of black stilettoes to go with your dress and the others had all they needed, you returned home. You plied each of them with a couple more pastries before they waved you farewell.

You hung the dress up and stared at it, placing the black shoes below it and imagining what you would look like once you were ready for the ball. The dread you had felt before was changed into excitement as you felt the fabric between your fingers. After you got your fill of staring at the beautiful gown you grabbed the money from your purse and stashed it back into your safe.

It turned out that you had really enjoyed the shopping trip. Not just because you came away with the outfit but because you hadn’t felt lonely. The day had been spent chatting, laughing and being in the company of people you might dare to call friends. How your life has changed in the last month.

The rest of the week seemed to go by painfully slow. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited for something and time seemed to drag as you approached the day of the ball.

Training took your mind off it for a while, you were only able to concentrate on your exercises. Each time your mind wondered slightly you found your ass back in the dirt. Gaining a stern glance from Azriel in return. Nesta invited you to have lunch with them each day after training. You spoke about how you were going to wear your hair or what preparations you would make for the day. Cassian would moan and take his dinner to eat elsewhere while we all ‘gossed’ as he called it.

The afternoons were painfully long. Especially when you have spent the best part of an hour sat talking with your friends. The shop was still quiet as usual, so you sat on your stool, reading whatever books Nesta or Emerie had loaned you. Occasionally helping a customer.

Each night you would sit in bed staring at the dress hung up at the other end of your room, you had only tried it on once more since you had brought it home. It took your breath away, just as it had done the first time. It was the night before the ball, you had decided that day how you were going to ware your hair. You pieced the image together and smiled at the thought before forcing your body and mind to rest.

It was 3pm and you sat in your shop counting down the minutes till closing. Nesta had told you to be ready to be picked up at 7pm. That gave you four hours to wait. Your usual customers had already been in for the day, so you sat tapping your fingers on the counter in front of you. Even your book didn’t distract you from the ticking clock on the wall.

You watched as the clock slowly ticked by until it reached half past. The street outside was quiet as you paced around the shop. Trying to find something to busy yourself with. You had already cleaned three times but you couldn’t sit still.

“That’s it” you tutted. There weren’t any signs of more customers coming so you decided shutting the shop an hour early wouldn’t harm anyone. You locked the front door and shut the blinds before making your way up the stairs to your apartment.

You set a hot bath running as you ate a small plate of food. Nesta informed you that there would be small bites to eat but to eat at the party but to eat a full meal beforehand. You finished the last of your food before submerging in the warm water. Steam rose from the small bathtub as you scrubbed yourself clean and washed your hair.

You didn’t sit and relax for long before you stepped out into the cold air and wrapped yourself in a towel. You combed through your now washed and silky hair and left it to dry as you applied small amounts of makeup to your face.

Once your hair had dried. You tied it in a half up half down hair style that Nesta had taught you. She said that it was the one that suited you the most with your neckline. It took you a couple of attempts to get it right but once you did, it sat neatly on top of your head as the rest of your hair fell in loose curls down your back.

It was 6:15 once you had finished with your hair. You poured yourself a glass of wine and sipped from the glass as you once again found yourself staring at the gown hung up in your room. You willed your body to calm down. A mix of emotions now leaving you tense. You were excited, finally able to show the dress off but nervous. There was going to be a lot of people at the party, and you only knew a handful of them. You took a large gulp of wine, seeking the liquid courage it may offer you.

At quarter to seven, you finally stepped into the gown. It fit like a glove as its soft fabric hugged your skin. You placed the black heels on before stepping in front of your small mirror. Taking deep breaths, you gazed at the image of you in the mirror and smiled. Actually smiled. You looked out of your window and up to the stars that graced the black sky above.

“I can feel you with me” you whispered to the stars. Hoping that your mother, wherever she was could hear you. You grabbed a small velvet box from your draws. Inside were a pair of your mother’s favourite silver earrings. You carefully placed one in each of your ears as a knock sounded loudly at the front door.

Cassian was never one for hanging about which made you chuckle slightly. You glanced one last time in the mirror, nodding your approval before heading downstairs and towards the front door. The winged silhouette dominated the small doorframe behind the frosted glass. You opened the door to find that Cassian wasn’t behind it.

His hazel eyes met yours as your breath hitched in your throat. He wore a black fitted suit that incorporated his membranous wings that were now held tensely behind him. His siphons still sat upon each hand and his shadows curled around his neck. It took you a second to drink him in, he was the picture of pure beauty.

“You look….” He let his eyes wonder over you. Heat rose throughout your body at the path his eyes travelled up and down you. His eyes roamed down to the dress that hugged your figure, lingering slightly at your bare neck before looking back into your eyes. His throat bobbed slightly before he said “stunning”. Azriel held eye contact with you as your stomach flipped and cheeks blushed.

“You too” you stumbled for words, and they came out in a timid squeak after realising you hadn’t said anything.

Idiot. You mentally scolded yourself.

His mouth twitched upwards as he pulled out a small box from the shadows curling around his hand. “I was instructed to give you this” he held it out for you to take. You carefully took the box and opened it.

“Nesta” you gasped. The box held the diamond necklace that you had forbidden Nesta from buying you at the beginning of the week. It shone like a thousand stars in the moonlight as you stared at it open mouthed.

“I was told, rather specifically, to say that you have to wear it tonight” you opened your mouth to speak but Azriel raised his hand to silence you. “No excuses” he smirked and you smiled back at him. Carefully, you took the necklace out of the box and held it up to inspect it closer. It had a very small clasp that you knew would take you a while to work.

“Do you mind?” you held out the necklace to Azriel. He hesitated before taking the necklace gently from your hand.

You turned around and swept your hair out of the way so he could access you neck easier. The cold night on your bare skin sent a small shiver down your spine. You felt Azriel approach your back, his body radiating heat onto yours as he was barley an inch away. You swallowed hard as he slowly placed the necklace around your neck. His warm, soft hands brushed against your skin as he fastened the clasp.

You swallowed hard as you felt the caress of his hot breath just below your ear. You told yourself you were imagining it but you felt his breathing stammer slightly as he worked the clasp at the back of your neck. He finished with the clasp, but his fingers lingered slightly causing your skin to heat up. Your heart was pounding hard as he seemed to wait for you to move away first, but your feet were locked in place. There was no doubt in your mind, that he couldn’t hear the roaring in your chest at the close proximity of his body to yours. The touch of his hand on your skin. Even his shadows seemed to circle around you, pulling you into their warm darkness.

Time seemed to slow down as the two of you remained in place, waiting for the other to make the next move. A males voice suddenly shook you back to reality. He had just stumbled out of a bar and was singing a merry tune as he wondered down the cobbled street. You cleared your throat, finding your legs now had movement in them as you took a step from Azriel. Turning on the spot and instantly missing his warmth.

“What do you think?” you gestured to the necklace that now laced your neck delicately. His face was unreadable when you finally braved to look at him. His shadows returned to him swiftly as he held your gaze. It took him a couple seconds to think before he said in his soft deep voice.

“Almost as beautiful as the wearer” he bowed his head to you. Your knees nearly buckled at the compliment. “Are you ready?” he asked, holding his had for you to take.

You nodded, taking his scared hand in yours. His shadows began to circle around you until there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 5

130 notes · View notes

ariendiel · 2 years

Note

“ do you dance? “

It's taken me so long, but I'm finally writing some prompts again! Sorry for taking ages, Debby, but hope you like this one🤍

Noah x Inès – Rated T – 839 Words

This wasn’t exactly how Noah had imagined this bank holiday, with skies as dark as night and that rumbled ominously. They’d planned on going to the park, but those plans felt too risky now with the promise of rain lurking on the horizon.

While he didn’t mind having to spend the day inside with his books, there were two others that were much more disappointed by the turn of events. The twins were–as usual–a handful, and while Inès had kept them occupied most of the morning so he could get some writing and reading done he knew he’d soon have to step up and help. Having their dog, Comet, to tend to as well didn’t exactly make things easier, he knew that very well.

Not long after the twins had been born he’d decided to stay at home full time, focusing on his role as a newly established author and letting Inès fully embrace the career of her dreams. It’d been an easy decision to make, and he hadn’t regretted it a day since. Still, he knew Inès wasn’t quite used to the madness and how exhausting it was to deal with the twins all alone, but he appreciated the effort she put in to allow him some time to himself as well.

Leaning back in his chair, he smiled as the sounds of laughter filtered through his office door and the soul music playing in the background. Yes, there were days he missed the library, but if he was perfectly honest this was the life he’d always wanted.

He stretched while standing, arms above his head and pushing towards the ceiling. That had to be enough writing for one day.

Making his way to the living room, Noah came to a halt at the sight that met him. In the middle of the room stood Inès, wearing one of his suits judging by how she was drowning in it, her hair tied back and a fake moustache attached to her upper lip. She looked utterly ridiculous.

I love this woman, he thought, smile widening.

“Ahhh, I see a fair maiden has decided to join us,” Inès announced upon seeing him, giving him a wink while the twins giggled uncontrollably.

“Maman, that’s not a lady,” Iris said after a moment, eyeing her father critically. “That’s daddy.”

“Ah, she may not quite wear suitable attire for our party, but that is the fairest maiden of this land I assure you.” Waving her hand, Inès gave him an encouraging nod and Noah quickly straightened his back. He knew what he had to do.

“Oh my apologies.” His usually so deep and velvety voice was screwed up a few pitches, and he curtsied to his audience. “I shall go and get changed at once, of course, your highnesses.”

Noah was a dad on a mission now, and he was quick to head upstairs to their walk-in closet, knowing exactly where Inès kept her dresses and which one he wanted.

Did it fit? No. Was it flattering? Also no. But would the silk gown make Olivier and Iris happy? Yes, and that was enough. He found the one pair of heels he had (from the gender-bend party Chelsea had hosted that one time), before going to the twins’ room and grabbing a toy tiara.

Not-so-gracefully walking downstairs, he had to duck slightly to get through the doorway and grinned upon hearing his kids' laughter again. Looking ridiculous alongside his wife was worth every second as long as it was accompanied by those smiles.

“I apologise for being late,” he said with the sweetest little laugh he could manage, realising he was channelling his inner Hannah with the way he nearly stumbled in front of them.

“You look so pretty, daddy!” Olivier was wide-eyed and grinning. Even Comet was eyeing the tall man in the sparkling dress curiously.

“Why thank you,” Noah curtsied before turning to Inès who was struggling to hold back her laughter.

“Do you dance?” She placed an arm across her waist and bowed deeply to him, a short chuckle escaping her. “My lady.” She straightened and pursed her lips, making her fake moustache bounce up and down, and the twins laughed with glee.

“Oh my, the handsome prince asking me for a dance?” Noah sighed and fanned himself before curtsying deeply for her. Still, even when bending his knees he remained taller than her, his broad shoulders straining against the tight fabric of the dress that wasn’t even zipped shut.

Inès got up on her toes to place her arms in the right position for a waltz, even though the music playing was some Disney song he’d heard on repeat about a thousand times before.

“I love you, stardust,” he murmured softly while she tried to guide them in a clumsy dance. Her in the oversized suit, him in a too tight dress. It was perfect.

“Love you too,” she smiled up at him, “and you do make for a lovely princess.”

“For you and the kids, I’ll be anything.”

#boring noah fluff(tm)#litg noah #litg s2 #love island the game #litg fanfic #litg #litg prompt #litg ff #litg fic #litg fanfiction

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starsxblazing · 4 months

Note

Hi friend! I had an idea that perhaps you could bring to life. Its an azriel x reader. Where shes a seamstress for Rhys, she makes all his suits and all the beautiful gowns and dresses for the girls to wear. She even makes their leathers for fighting. I imagine one of them or maybe a few of them make a comment on how she's no one important and kinda belittles her work cuz shes just a seamstress. Rhys brings all 3 males to be measured for suits and azriel is getting flushed as readers kneeling to measure the length of his pants and the slit for his wings. Rhys sees Azriel blush and gives him a stern look shaking his head like "not this one." She doesnt look them in they eye, and rhys doesnt tell azriel anything about her. Like shes rhys best kept secret. Reader feels like the IC is so much better than her and thats why they sometimes say mean things (maybe someone asks elain where her dress is from and she just scoffs like "this old thing") but its actually a protective rhys trying to keep her safe cuz she reminds him so much of his deceased sister. Bond snaps but readers so insecure she wants to decline. Sorry this was so long. Lol. Just trying to get the jist of it out. Non important seamstress reader, flushed azriel, brother like rhys. The end. 🤣🤣🤣

a/n: I really hope that I did your request justice! It was so cute writing a shy Azriel

Unnoticed

You sat at the front desk of the shop to place your order for your inventory, sighing to yourself as your eyes momentarily moved around the small store that you owned. It wasn’t anything special and was small compared to the many others in the city. There were so many other places that would be preferred by the citizens but this was your passion and refused to give up on it. The bell on the door rang and you looked up with a hopeful smile that turned into a grin when you saw who was striding in.

“Hey!” you started happily, thankful to see such a familiar face. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I will make it a top priority to come visit when it isn’t just for your services,” he chuckled.

“And what is it that I can do for the all mighty High Lord?” A giggle at his playful frown escaped you. “I’ve been looking forward to the new things that you always request.”

“We have a visit to the Day Court and it would be nice to have some new attire for the ball that Helion will be hosting.”

“That sounds so nice,” you sighed dreamily. “The same sizes as last time?”

“The females, yes.” He gave you a smile that was full of love and admiration that nearly brought tears to your eyes. “However, Azriel and Cassian will need to be measured since they usually do not wear this particular form of attire.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll have everything set up.” You searched through the files under your desk to pull out the Inner Circles information. “I can go ahead and get what you have in mind so I can get it done in time.”

Rhysand gave you a small smile, the adoration still shining in his eyes. You were never sure why he looked at you in such a way but you appreciated it anyway. He was the only thing that came close to a friend since there were times where he would stay with you and talk for hours before departing again. You had no family since they were lost in the war but you were thankful that you had been able to take refuge in Velaris.

There were times when the High Lord would try to offer to move you into a larger store in a better part of the city. It was a sweet offer but you felt as if it was charity and you didn’t want any pity. The Night Court black that was used was always beautiful to you and your friend seemed to like the little details that you added to make it stand out a bit more while still fitting his court.

Your store stayed in business simply because of Rhysand’s orders for his family because you made everything for them. He always assured you that they loved their dresses and gowns but there was always an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place when he did so. Despite that, you always put everything that you had into it. His family was important and special. All of them were nothing like you. Just a little nobody that had nothing but your little shop to keep you busy.

It wasn’t until three hours later that the High Lord left did you realize just how alone that you truly were. You wished that you had a family like he did but you forced your mind to remember how happy that you were for him. There were so many that you had come across in your life that only had half of what he did and even then, there wasn’t much happiness in it.

The next day, you made your way out to begin your search for the things that you would be able to find in town when you saw someone you recognized. It was one of the High Lady’s sisters but you weren’t sure which one it was. You did your best to not be noticed as the female spoke to another one but you were pretty sure that you wouldn’t be.

“Where did you get your dress, Elain?” the female asked.

“This old thing?” Elain looked down at her dress, one that you had made, with her nose scrunched in distaste. “It came from some nobody seamstress. Rhys has never told us anything else.”

“Well, I think it’s beautiful.” The female’s head tilted slightly with a raised eyebrow. “It seems like you don’t like it.”

“It’s definitely not my favorite,” Elain huffed, scrunching her nose in the process.

Unable to hear anymore of the conversation, you turned and darted back to your shop. So many feelings had hit you all at once and you weren’t sure where to start as you began sobbing once you were in the safety of the building that you also lived in. You began doubting yourself and the work that you loved while also wondering if the male that you considered your friend has been lying to you all of this time.

Even though you had cried yourself to sleep in the early afternoon, you were still unable to pull yourself out of bed the next morning. You could barely hear the knock on the front door but you ignored it. You had already felt like no one of any importance but the words that you had overheard only proved it. Not only was it from a customer but also from someone who would be able to destroy what tiny bit of name that you had for yourself in the city within an instant. Facing Rhysand again would be one of the hardest things that you had to do in a long time but you refused to let him down.

You allowed yourself to mope in bed for the remainder of the day in hopes that you would feel a bit better the next day. No sooner than you opened your store, the bell rang and you felt the High Lord’s power throughout the entirety of the small building.

Azriel had felt a bit frustrated when his brother dragged him out of bed and rushed him through his breakfast. He wasn’t sure what the hurry was, not seeing the big deal in getting fitted for new suits and leathers. In truth, he did need them but he felt as if it could’ve waited until a bit later in the day. His High Lord had a hint of eagerness to him that wasn’t so present unless it came to his mate or son.

He was only annoyed further when they arrived at what he could swear was the smallest shop in the entire city and there was no answer even after Rhysand had all but beat the door down. The store couldn’t even be considered to be in the district where most of the stores were but he was somewhat relieved because he was able to spend the rest of his day as he wanted.

Rhysand did the same thing the following day which had both him and Cassian grumbling about doing the same thing two days in a row. Thankfully, the store was open and his brother walked in as if he owned the place with a small smile on his face.

“Is everything alright?” Rhys asked the female at the front desk hesitantly, a hint of worry in his voice. “We came by as planned but there was no answer.”

“I had some business to take care of,” you muttered, causing him and Cassian to glance at each other in confusion.

Neither of them knew who you were nor even knew of the business that was being run here. He watched carefully as you gathered what was needed and even though you carried yourself in a confident manner, you kept your eyes downcast. It was as if you didn’t have it in you to look them in the eyes. You had obviously done so with his brother but it appeared as if it wasn’t the case today.

From what he could see, he could tell that you were beautiful but what would confirm it the most would be some form of eye contact. He watched you carefully as you started with Cassian, fully committed to doing your job to perfection. You started with his other brother’s legs for his height and he only saw a smirk pulling on Cassian’s lips that he was trying to hold back. For reasons unknown to Azriel, it had him frowning and almost bristling at the sight.

You continued on with your work in silence except for a hum here or there when the High Lord asked you questions as if you didn’t want to speak to any of them. It wasn’t until you moved to him did he truly pay attention to you. He wasn’t sure why but the sight of you on your knees in front of him, with your notebook in hand, had heat creeping onto his face. The quietest snicker came from Cassian who had moved behind him. When he turned to glare at him, he noticed a stern look on Rhysand’s face that had his eyebrows furrowing.

Azriel’s body stiffened when your fingers brushed lightly against him to take other measures. He sucked in a quiet breath when you moved behind him to measure the slits for his wings and your fingers just barely grazed them. It sent a jolt of what felt like electricity through him. He cursed himself silently because it wasn’t the first time that his wings had been touched but there was something about yours that nearly had him wanting more of the contact.

He was slightly disappointed when you were finished too quickly for his liking and moved to Rhysand. You still kept your eyes downcast from all of them and it seemed to have the slightest frown tugging at the High Lord’s lips. Cassian continued to watch as if he too was wondering what was going on.

“Everything should be ready in three weeks if that’s alright,” you said, giving Rhysand the briefest glance before returning to your desk.

Rhys ushered them out quickly and was unusually quiet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that he was brooding. Neither Cassian nor himself knew anything about you so they weren’t sure what to say but his own curiosity got the better of him.

“Who is she?”

“No one for you to be concerned about,” the High Lord answered. “And you will stay away from her.”

He was given a stern glance but he could note the protective fondness in his eyes. It only caused him to wonder more but he kept quiet on the matter.

You were thankful for the time being that you didn’t have a lot of customers. The work of making suits and gowns for seven people would take a while but you were thankful that it gave you a break from your thoughts. You didn’t waste any waking hour, putting your greatest effort into it all in hopes that the gowns would be appreciated more.

A week had passed faster than you had originally imagined that it would and the only break in your concentration was the bell to your shop opening for the second time during the time. You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Rhysand before you, a small frown on his face as he looked down at you.

“As promised, I have come to spend some quality time with the most beautiful seamstress that I know,” he said with a grin that contradicted the caution in his eyes.

“You come to visit or check on my progress?” you asked, eyeing him for a moment before returning your work.

“As I said, I’ve come to visit,” he repeated gently. “Are you alright? You’re acting differently.”

“Fine,” you answered a bit too quickly to be believable.

“I apologize when I say that I do not believe you.” There was a worried frown on his face that made your heart clench and tears almost formed in your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I just..” You trailed off, unsure what to say or how to say it. “Why does it matter? I’m just trying to balance everything.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. There was worried determination on his face and you knew that he wouldn’t let it go but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what happened. It could possibly cause a divide or rift between the family that you thought so highly of and you couldn’t have that.

“You’re evading,” he replied flatly before his face softened when he gripped your chin lightly to keep your attention on him. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“Your family is very important,” you muttered. “I just want to be sure that I make everything perfectly. There’s so many ideas going through my head and I’m just trying to be sure to keep it all together.”

“You are no less important than any of us.” His matter of fact words paired with his gentle smile had a small one forming on your face as well. “As a matter of fact, you are just as important if not more so than my entire family combines.”

“Why?” You moved out of his grip and stared at him flatly. “Look at m-”

“I do see you. Every single time I come in here.” Rhysand continued with a charming smile that caused you to huff. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why-” You stopped short, reminding yourself to not give into your emotions. “I have Feyre’s gown completed and this one that I’m almost finished with is for Nesta. Do you want to see?”

He nodded with a grin and followed you to a separate room in the back where you kept the outfits that you made. You watched him carefully for his reaction as he stared at the gown and then blew out a silent breath of relief at the genuine smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, turning to grin brightly at you. “She will love it and this just may become her new preferred gown.”

“Promise?” you asked tentatively while you tried to decipher if he was lying or not.

“On my mate’s life,” he answered as a look of adoration etched into his features once again.

“Is there anything that I should change about Amren’s, Mor’s, Nesta’s or..” You swallowed hard, the action not going unnoticed by the High Lord. “Elain’s? I want everything to be absolutely perfect for everyone for such an important event.”

“No.” He shook his head but the certainty in his eyes was answer enough. “I look forward to seeing what the rest look like.”

“I’ve made these my top priority so the leathers-”

“Can wait until you’re finished with these,” he replied. “What they have now will work until later.”

“Okay,” you whispered, gripping onto the kind reassurances to push you through your self deprecating thoughts before he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I wish there was a way to make you realize just how special you are,” he muttered, squeezing tighter to emphasize it. “You remind me so much of my sister.”

Your eyes filled with tears immediately because it was no secret about what happened to his mother and sister. The fact that had such a high opinion of you that he would compare you to someone so important to him had you sobbing. He simply held you until your tears finally ceased and stayed with you for a few hours before returning to his court duties.

By the time that the door shut behind him, you felt a bit better but knew that you would never compare to any of them.

Azriel wasn’t able to keep his mind off of you while they waited for their new suits and gowns for the upcoming ball. He wasn’t sure why but despite his High Lord’s orders, he walked past your shop every so often to simply get a glimpse of you. Only once did he get a full view of your face and it took his breath away as he saw you smile at the only customer that he had noted that you had.

It was reaching the three week mark that you had given his brother and he was itching to ask the High Lord if he would let him retrieve the order. His gut told him that Rhysand wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t sure why you were kept such a tight secret from all of them but Azriel knew that his brother meant it when he had given the order to stay away from you.

“I can’t go with you today.” Azriel stopped just outside of the study, listening to Rhys as he spoke to Cassian. “I have to leave in a couple of hours to pick up our outfits for our trip to Day Court.”

“I don’t understand why none of us-”

“As I’ve said,” the High Lord growled, his voice low and almost deadly. “You need not worry about her.”

“Yea but she-”

“Is not a topic of discussion.”

The snappy tone of their brother had Cassion falling quiet on the topic but Azriel’s curiosity about you wouldn’t let him sit idly by. It was almost as if he was being pulled towards you and he couldn’t ignore it. He slipped out as silently as he had come in and disobeyed Rhysand’s orders. Even though the plan had already been arranged, Azriel wasn’t bothered with the anger that would surely ensue about him taking the initiative that was purely personal.

The bell on your store’s door sounded as he entered but you were so focused on your work that you didn’t notice his presence until he cleared his throat. You jumped from your stool, startled from the noise before you finally looked at him. It felt like the entire world stopped when you both made eye contact and he felt the one thing that he was beginning to believe that he would never have.

Your eyes went wide and you stumbled backwards, tripping over your stool and fell to the ground in surprise as the golden thread connected the two of you. He rushed as fast as he could through the small area, his wings knocking some items over even though his wings were tucked in tightly behind him. A breath of relief escaped him when you didn’t recoil from him when he reached to help you up.

“I- I don’t- What?” you gasped through heavy breaths as you stood.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” he stuttered, unsure what to say since he didn’t know what you were thinking.

“No. Don’t be. I just..” You took a deep breath before fully looking at him again. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Your words barely registered in his mind as he stared back at you, your beauty captivating him the longer that he did so. There were so many things that he wanted to say but at the same time being unsure since he didn’t know you. No sooner than he could open his mouth to reassure you, the front door opened and he felt the High Lord’s power filling the store. His brother was angry beyond belief with him.

“Y/N, would you mind stepping outside for a moment while I have a word with my spymaster.”

Azriel could feel the uncertainty and anger flowing off of you but you nodded after swallowing audibly. Once you were out in the streets, Rhysand had him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him harshly into the wall. There was nothing but pure, unadulterated anger on his brother’s face.

“Did I or did I not tell you to stay away from her?” Rhys growled.

“Yes but-”

“But what, Azriel?” he snapped at him. “Are you simply attracted to females that I insist on you staying away from?”

“It isn’t like that,” he tried. “Why are you so insistent on no one knowing about her? None of us even knew that she existed until now.”

“Because I want to protect her.” Azriel was released before Rhysand took a few steps back. “She reminds me too much of my sister and I refuse to let anything happen to her. If that means keeping all of you clueless to her existence then that is what I will do.”

Azriel’s thought began flooding in all at once, making it hard to keep up with what his shadows were whispering and the things that he wanted to say. He understood now what his High Lord’s motivations were but there was no way that he could let his mate go. Not after finally finding it after the centuries that he had waited for it. As he went to explain what had happened, the door opened again and it had your scent filling the room.

“I don’t want to be the reason that there’s trouble,” you mumbled as you looked at your feet.

“You are not-”

“We’re mates,” Azriel said, interrupting Rhys.

The High Lord’s eyes widened when he swirled around to look at him. There was uncertainty in them while he stared at him before looking back at the female that he held in such high regards. For the first time in a long time, his brother was speechless and Azriel was honestly shocked.

“I don’t deserve it,” you continued, finally looking up with tear filled eyes. “I don’t deserve someone as special and amazing as he is.”

“Why?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“You- All of you-” You paused, taking a deep breath. “You’re all so much better than me to the point that some of my dresses aren’t even liked.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

Your eyes switched between Rhysand and himself before stopping on the former. The tears that began flowing down your face made him unable to not go to you, placing his hands on each cheek in hopes of calming you.

“I heard Elain telling someone that she didn’t like-”

“Screw her and her opinion,” he growled before apologizing when your eyes went wide.

“There is a dress in particular that she isn’t the most fond of,” Rhys answered and you looked around him to gaze at the High Lord. “It is the only one and she simply doesn’t care for certain parts of the style. It has nothing to do with you or how amazing that your work is. It is simply a personal problem.”

“She said I was a nobody,” you sniffled, the words causing his body to shake slightly in anger.

“That’s my fault.” Your brows furrowed at Rhys’s words. “You’re an amazing female and I didn’t want to risk putting you into danger by letting all of them know who you are.”

“But I-”

“Give us a chance,” Azriel whispered, pulling your eyes back to his. “Please.”

“Why don’t we start with the upcoming ball?” Rhys gave you a small smile when you looked at him cautiously. “It’d be a high honor for my shadowsinger to have you by his side.”

“It would,” he agreed.

Your bright smile in return for his words sent his heart fluttering and a rare, genuine smile adorned his face. He knew right then and there that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face.

It was the start of something new that he couldn’t wait to see unfold.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

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mingis-lightbulb · 2 years

Note

I need another yandere prince hongjoong lol im addicted.

I gotcha!!

warnings: Yandere Hongjoong, light smut, Royalty au, manipulation, obsession, possessiveness, ya know all the good yandere shit/j,

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

"Y/n! Y/n! Did you hear?"

That's all you'd been hearing all damned day.

"The Prince is finally picking a suitor!"

You were happy, because that may mean he would finally leave you alone.

You turned to your mother who was smiling happily at you, "You may be able to get picked, my dear!" "Mama, now you know they would allow the prince to marry nobility before commoners." She sighed and rolled her eyes,

"Besides aren't we leaving the castle? I thought you got another job?"

"Yes, but I was hoping you'd stay here and get chosen instead of moving with me. You're the age for marriage now y/n. Find a man."

"Mom. Please. the queen would have my head if I even breathed in her son's direction." You say to her, knowing full well that the Prince did not give a fuck.

Prince Hongjoong was his name.

He was charming, handsome, and knew his way with words.

And he had you wrapped around his finger.

There were plenty of nights where you would be preparing for bed, only in a pretty velvet nightgown that was gifted to you. The Prince would spook you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting your gown up to grip your thighs.

"My Love was waiting for me wasn't she..?"

He would move you to your bedroom, hiking your dress up over your hips. "Such a pretty girl...waiting for her prince.." He would only be dressed in his sleep pants for easy convenience, pulling them down and rubbing his aching cock against your wet core.

"Y-your highness..you shouldn't be doing this so close to the ch-ah!~" You cry out as he sinks into you, a low groan leaving his lips. "Shh..don't talk about that now, it's me and you right now my love." He mumbles, lifting his head to place his plump lips against yours.

His pace would always start the same, slow yet harsh, making sure you felt every inch of his cock. His soft groans were music to your ears, his hands were roaming your body, finding every place to grab one, leaving no bit of skin untouched.

He would always tell you how much he loved you, how he wanted to be only with you. It made you feel special, for the small time that the two of you spent together.

"Fuck. My love, You were made for me..just for me. This cute little pussy made just for your prince.." He would groan out, sending shivers down your spine.

His petnames, his actions, the way he would look at you, and how he spoke to you around others.

At times you wished you were royalty.

Alas, it was not meant to be between the two of you

or at least that's what you had thought.

You were preparing to leave with your mother, packing your things and sighing at the memories you'd had in this room.

"My love? Where are you going?"

You whipped around to see Prince Hongjoong in his royal attire, it was time for him to pick his bride to be. He looked good, so good. The girl he would pick is so lucky.

"I'm leaving your highness, My mother and I are movin-"

"You cannot leave me! I thought we were meant to be??" He asked and his words tugged at your heart. but you knew you could not be with him, "M-my prince, I can't stay. We've done too much together and I would not want to be disrespectful to your wife."

Hongjoong came to you, dropping to his knees and hugging around your legs, "Please...Y/n. You can't go. I love you too much." You stood shocked, it wasn't the first time he had told you those words but most of the time it would be during sex. So hearing him utter those words made your heart warm but you still had to leave.

You looked down at him, "I-i'm sorry hongjoong but i can't..your reputation is on the line-" You froze as you heard the clicking of a gun.

Looking at Hongjoong, he had a pistol aimed at his own head, his eyes blank as they look at you.

"I-if i can't live in a world with you by my side. I don't want to live in it!" He yelled out and you quickly tried to pull the gun away but he just jerked back. "Y-your highness! please put the gun down.."

He shook his head, keeping it pressed right against his head. "N-no! you're leaving me here by myself...when i only love you!! You want to leave me!" He yells, "So I'm gonna end it so i won't have to live without you." his finger was on the trigger and you quickly tackle him to the ground, knocking the ground across the room.

Hongjoong had tears in his eyes as he tried fighting you off of him. You held him down by his arms, "Please your highness stop!! I'll stay I'll stay!!" You screamed out, your own tears forming in your eyes, you placed your head in the crook of his neck as the two of you laid on the floor.

"I-ill stay..I'll marry you, whatever you want..but please don't kill yourself.."

Hongjoong smirked, knowing you couldn't see the look on his face. He knew using this approach you would have no choice but to stay with him He cuddles you close to him, holding you against his body.

"T-thank you, My love.."

"We can be together forever...as long as you stay with me."

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Taglist: @wooyoungsbae @yungisstar1117 @hohohugs @beomnoi @blessednhighlyfavoured @do-you-actually-care @soft-teddybear @captainjoongiekissme @hijirikaww @staymiracle @joti17 @lee--felix @abiaswreck @sunshinee0-0 @serialee @violetwinters @mingissoggywaffles @soobinshouseplant

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#kim hongjoong x reader smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfics #ateez smut #ateez smut fanfic #ateez smut fanfictions #ateez x reader smut #ateez smut fanfics #hongjoong x reader fluff #yandere hongjoong #hongjoong smut

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Rich! Bad Boy!Min Yoongi- Try Me

Just wanna say if you see your name used here, I don’t have beef with you okay? I had a random name generator in another tab and just used the first name I saw.

Once again someone doesn’t want me to be great so....this might be the only post today because I....dunno I can’t post when I’m not in a good mood and its been real shitty.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

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Leggo!

...

You were practically glued to his side. His arm was tightly wrapped around your waist as he led you across the room. You had perched your designer sunglasses on top of your head to get a clearer look at your surroundings. Why were you wearing sunglasses at night? Because you could, of course.

Your wore a backless floor length gown in one of his favorite colors. He had insisted you wear your fur coat, but you convinced him to let you leave it in the car. You were on full display, not only for him but for anyone else who thought that they had bought the most gorgeous date for the night. That title was forever and always reserved for Min Yoongi’s girl and tonight only proved it more and more.

He walked with his held held high as if everyone around him was beneath him. His attired screamed ‘try me, bitch’ From his black suit and tie to crisp white dress shirt and shoes that were worth more than someone’s rent for five months. His hair was slicked back and while he didn’t bother to raise his own pair of shades, everyone could see the glare very evident on his face.

You two were the epitome of a power couple, in the most literal sense and everyone respected that.

“Mr. Min! Welcome!” a nervous and frantic looking man rushed up to you. “This must be your beautiful companion for the night.” he bowed repeatedly. So many times that you lost count. He held his hand out for you to take, but you were left to stare awkwardly. You had no idea what to do in that moment. After a second or two you held your hand out, which he shook a bit too aggressively.

Yoongi calmly used his free hand to raise his sunglasses up. “You gettin’ paid to rip my girl’s arm out its socket?”

“Oh! my apologies Mr. Min!” he instantly let your hand go. “I wasn’t aware.”

“You never are.” he scoffed, allowing his shades sit on the top of his head. “Is our table ready or did they send you here to waste our time?”

“You’re fashionably early! Your comrades haven’t arrived yet.” the host stammered. “Follow me!” he practically disappeared through the sea of people.

“What a tool.” you spoke for the first time since you left the car. “I’ve never seen a bigger kiss-ass in my life.”

“Hm, trust me I’ve met worse. He’s just a dick-rider for the men who really own this place.” He leaned down and spoke into your ear. “Those guys will literally shit on someone else’s table if I tell them to.”

“How riveting.” you rolled your eyes playfully as he led you through the crowd. It was easy for people to get out of your way. One look from your boyfriend and they were hugged the nearest wall or throwing themselves against the various tables set up all over the place. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Don’t make that face.” He smirked. “I told you, official business.”

“And we couldn’t do that somewhere less...sleazy?” you scoffed at the old man with five different women on his arm. “Yoongi-”

“It’s only for a few hours.” he assured. “Then after that, we can do whatever you want, okay?”

“You said that last time.” you hid the pout forming on your face.

“You have my word.”

“Or so you say.” you slipped out of his grip. “Until you have more trash take out.” you shook your head as you walked ahead. Yoongi watched you from behind as you walked ahead. Of course you didn’t need him by your side to be considered intimidating. He bit his lip at the idea of ripping that dress off your body when you got back to the hotel. Shit, he might not even manage to keep his hands to himself in the car.

Yoongi joined you at the table. “ You feel like Soju tonight?”

“Depends on if you want me to start fighting or not.” you raised an eyebrow at Yoongi.

“Hm, on second thought how about imported beer.”

“This isn’t date night at your place, dear.” you replied jokingly.

“Hm, you’re right. It’s been a while since we’ve splurged. We can do wine tonight!” he chuckled in reply as you both sat down. Just as you both got settled, you were met by a small crowd. Yoongi’s friends, of course.

“Oi! Watch how you handle my fucking jacket! It’s worth more than your life.” Namjoon snapped at that host.

“My apologies sir!”

“Yoongi, Y/N. Good to see you.” Seokjin shook Yoongi’s hand firmly. “Sorry we’re late.”

“We just arrived ourselves.” you replied, relaxing as Yoongi wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Yoongi insisted.”

“Of course he did.” Jungkook sat down. “I saw the other women glaring at you.” he laughed. “You sure know how to make an entrance.” he raised your hand to his lips for a short kiss to your knuckles.

“Of course she does. She’s the best looking woman here.” he huffed as if it was obvious. The host quietly bought the selection for the night.

“Wine for the lady, the usual for the rest of us.” Yoongi spoke for the table.

“Yes sir!”

Before anyone else could speak, a woman in a red dress and white fur coat strode up. “Yoongi? Is that you?”

“Meredith....fancy seeing you here.” Yoongi looked less than thrilled.

“Very!” she seemed a little too happy to see him. It was funny because you had never seen nor heard of this woman in your life. “So...I tried to call you.”

She was completely oblivious of you sitting right there and you didn’t like it.

“What are you doing here?” Seokjin annoyedly spoke up as his drink was poured. “If you couldn’t tell, we’re all trying to enjoy ourselves.”

“I just wanted to catch up with an old friend!” she put her hands up in defense. Her eyes suddenly landed on you. “Whose this?” she fixed her face in disgust

“Y/N L/N, who the fuck are you?” you raised an eyebrow. Your posture straightened up as she glared at you. You threw your sunglasses on the table, crossing your arms as you perked up.

“Are you Yoongi’s pet or something?” she put a hand on her hip. “ Guess they’ll let anyone in!”

“Pet? Oh Honey...Even if that were true it would still mean I’m sitting here and your standing there looking stupid....”

“Oh yeah. He’s probably waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of you!”

You held up a single hand to up Yoongi to signify that you didn’t want him to speak. He looked livid, however you didn’t see the point in him wasting his time or energy on this woman. You slowly stood up. The host held your glass of wine with shaky hands, unsure of what to do.

“Thank you.” you grabbed the glass from him. “Run along now.”

“Yes mam!” the scared host scurried off, obviously not wanting any confrontation.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Yoongi asked, watching you with weary eyes. You weren’t confrontational so this was a huge surprise.

“Meredith. That is your name, right?” you smiled sweetly. You took a sip from your glass. “Hm...What a darling coat! I bet it goes with anything.”

“Of course it does! It pairs best with red. I bought it in Paris...” she put a hand on her hip as if she was a model. “As you can see.”

“Too bad beautiful gowns and expensive fur doesn’t make the wearer any less cheap than the next bitch.” you instantly shut down the false sense of security you built for the disrespectful woman.

“EXCUSE ME?!?”

“Not done yet....” you cleared your throat before speaking again. “ Whore, Pet, Wife ,Girlfriend, whatever you want to call me, go ahead but best believe my place in Yoongi’s life will always hold rank over you, my dear. You weren’t even important enough for him to tell me about you and we’ve been together for four years going on five as of two months from now.” You put your free hand on your hip. “That’s number one.” you laughed gleefully.

“Damn Yoongi, your girl has guts.” Namjoon whispered.

“That’s my babe.” Yoongi sat back and watched you drag Meredith for filth.

“Number Two! Before you try to feed me shit and call it sugar, make sure you take off the tags on your clothes.” You pointed to the obvious department store tag. “Clearance...nice. I also know fake diamonds when I see them, don’t play yourself.”

Nothing was wrong with fake gems, or clearance items...but pretending you were better than everyone else while lying...that wasn’t gonna go down.

The girl had went completely quiet now.

“Three. Last but not least. Get over this whole convoluted ‘I’m better than you’ ideals you follow because the same people you turn your nose up at are the same people who you rely on on a day to day basis. Shiny hair, expensive clothes, and a posse of fake friends who tell you everything you want to hear does not guarantee happiness. Insulting me because it gives you short lived joy does not guarantee happiness. Pretending you actually have any sense of class when it’s obvious you faked your way to the top of social stardom does not guarantee happiness.” you put your wine glass on the table. “So before I proceed to tell you to go fuck yourself and to stay away from me and my BOYFRIEND...any questions?”

Not even five seconds passed and this woman walked off without another word. You didn’t feel bad, not by a long shot. Respect is something that’s earned any ANYONE who didn’t understand that could get a piece of you.

You sat back down next to Yoongi, grabbing your wine again. “Gentlemen, forgive me for that outburst.”

“Damn babe.” Yoongi wrapped his arm around you again. “That was hot.”

“Good because I’m highly fucking livid right now.” you calmly took a sip of your wine. “Who was that woman?” you turned to glare at Yoongi.

“She was an actress who was paid to portray my wife for a business thing I was forced to do.” he shook his head. “Y/N I promise she means nothing to me. It was before we even met.”

“Good. Let another girl talk crazy to me, I’ll kill you both.” you said with a straight face. “Her for thinking she can talk to me any way she wants, and you for keeping things from me. I will cut you deep, sir.”

“Damn I love you.” he bit his lip. He turned your head towards himself to give you a deep kiss.

...

As he had promised, he could barely keep his hands off you in the car. The minute the doors had shut, Yoongi had the hem of your dress bunched up in his fist. His lips feverishly laid open mouth kisses along your exposed neck.

“Yoongi, we shouldn’t do this here.” you whimpered, even though your actions said the completely opposite.

“Why? No one is gonna stop me. They damn sure won’t say shit about it.” Yoongi stopped for a split second to turn a glare to the limo driver, who was trying very hard not to look in the rear view mirror. “PUT THE FUCKING DIVIDER UP.” he barked.

“Yes sir!!”

Yoongi pushed you down onto the seats, causing you to let out a laugh. The divider was put up and you could hear the sound of fabric ripping.

He had tore a rip up your dress.

“Goodbye $3,000 dress.” you huffed.

“More where that came from.” he laughed, which was quickly replaced with a sadistic smile. “Spread your legs, baby.” he pouted. “Daddy wants to finger you”

“In the car-"

“When we get back to the hotel, I want you naked on that bed.” he growled. “If not, I’ll fucking rip whatever you have left off.”

... (The Hotel)

He couldn’t even keep his hands to himself in the elevator, any part of you he could get his hands on, he touched. By the time you two had gotten back to the room, you were thrown on the bed. Your dress had a huge tear up the leg and the straps were holding up either. Yoongi had discarded every article of clothing except his pants which were hanging low on his hips at this point.

“How do you want me?” he flicked his tongue against his bottom lip, looking you up and down. “I’ll do whatever you want, babe.” He watched as your shy wall was quickly put up and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Baby doesn’t know?”

“Nuh uh.” you hid behind your hands with a shy smile.

“Hm...my hands?”

“hm....nuh uh.” you shook your head again.

“Hm...my mouth then?” he bit his lips, standing right in front of you. “Where was that fire, honey? Come on.” he grabbed your hands. “Want me to eat that pretty pussy, baby?” He gathered the rest of your dress in his fist. “Come here.”

He began kissing up your bare thighs. You shook your legs, biting your lip. You felt him pull your panties down.

“You were so brave for me, sexy girl. Where’s that fighting spirit? Do you want me to eat this sweet little- hmm.” he dragged his tongue up your slit, laying opened mouthed kisses along your pussy. “You’re brave for the outside world but you still need daddy to take care of you, huh?”

“Mhm!” you nodded desperately.

“Baby you taste so fucking good.” he laughed, lashing his tongue against your hot flesh. “You’re moving so much.” he cackled. “Hmm” he dug his nails into your thighs. “You like it when I eat this pussy?”

“This is mine.” he mumbled against your heat. “This is all mine. Don’t think I’m done with you yet...”

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diaryofassortedimagines · 3 years

Text

salt and sugar

credence barebone x gender neutral!reader

request from @steamed3gg . thank you for entrusting me with such a wonderful prompt 😌

summary: credence, the soft speaking and gentle soul, wanted to do something special for newt scamander’s 30th birthday. however, his confidence begins to slip through the cracks as he spends some alone time with you.

warnings: fluff, a small amount of angst, credence is so fucking cute it’s ridiculous.

while i was writing this i had to google if they had ovens in the 20s

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today was newt scamanders special day, the once in his lifetime that he would turn 30. it was a chilly feburary day, and as queenie, tina, and jacob were gift hunting, (its not easy to find a gift for someone who only values animals) you had the delightful opportunity to spend what you presumed to be a long time with an angel, credence barebone. baking had always been a concept credence was intrigued by, one he wished to pursue, and now that he was no longer under the oppressive custody of his “mother”, he had hours of free time do whatever he had pleased.

you had to gather all the ingredients the day before, secretly and away from newts attentive, curious eyes. no one but newt scamander was better suited to have birthday cookies over a cake. the only one who prefers long skinny candles next to said cookies.

when you first came into the kitchen, credence was already there leaning against the table in silence

“you haven’t been waiting long, have you,?” he shook his head ‘no’, silently, and you could tell he was still a tad on edge to be alone in your presence. “i’ll just be right back.” his eyes followed you as you walked towards the living room, still in his sight, and flipped through radio stations until you found a suitable track. “‘you okay with music, credence?” he nodded yes, once again silently, although this time he had a small smile on his face- an improvement. you had only just woke up, and were in nothing but a night gown and a fuzz robe as you strutted back to the kitchen and, as usual, credence was dressed in full professional attire. “get the flour... sugar... chocolate chips and... baking soda for me, please?” you tried you best to remember the ingredients to cookies. you shuffled past each other as you went for the cookbook. in the center of the kitchen, you propped it open on the island. “oh! and the salt.” you called toward him.

“salt?” this was the first time you heard him speak all morning, his motivation to do so purely based on surprise. “why yes, of course, creed. you must have a bit of salt in anything good.” his back was to you as he rifled through the cabinets, and although you couldn’t see him, he had to hold his lip between his teeth so as not to smile too noticeably as you assigned him his pet name. he set all the dry ingredients on the table, while you headed toward the fridge and for the mixing bowls. “a bowl for you, and a bowl for me. start with two level cups of flour.” you quoted the book. you let him get his ingredients first. “and then... we need the baking soda, sugar, and salt.” you laughed a bit as you said salt.

while you weren’t very well acquainted with cooking or baking yourself, this was credence’s first time using an oven at all, and so you let him go first; metaphorically held his hand through the process. you knew that, although it seemed such a trivial activity, it weighed on his very fragile self of steam. you even made little mistakes, secretly on purpose, to try and reassure him that mistakes were only human. saying things like: “oh! i forgot to preheat the oven.” or even dropping an egg; this may or may not have been on purpose. apart from that, you added on to your attempt at comforting him with simple words of affirmation. “good job! i’ve never been able to do that, no matter how many times i tried.” you complimented as he did a one-handed crack of an egg. you left the occasional pat or rub on his back, cautious not to overstep. with every new word or touch a few ounces of the weights on his shoulders fell. he was even smiling, and all had been going wonderfully. this stability was soon to crumble, however, as you began to mix the batter. he had finished his mix before you, and was attempting to mix the dough with a wooden spoon, something he was not entirely successful at. he began to become exceedingly frustrated, but more than that, he was embarrassed and self conscious. you felt as though all the progress you made in your relationship, despite it only being for a few hours, was slipping on thin ice. he dropped his spoon in the bowl carelessly and sighed before putting his head in his hands.

“i’m sorry, y/n... i just can’t do anything right.” your heart was breaking seeing him in this state. “oh credence that’s so untrue! it’s okay, it’s just one little mistake. you’ve never done this before.” you were rubbing his shoulder and he leaned into you. his dignity was barely there in the first place. an abused individual, never having experienced words of affirmation. “you’re been doing so, so well. it’s not like you dropped an egg.” he looked up at you, despite how difficult it was, and tears had built up in the well of his eyes and you quickly swiped them away with your thumb. “there’s no need to cry when you’re around me, dear. would you like some help?” he nodded, still silent, before hiding his face again and hunching over. you took the spoon out of the bowl and set it aside, setting down your own manners with it, as you dug your hands into the dough and began pushing and squeezing the ingredients. “juuuust like that.” he looked back up at you in surprise, smiling again. “now it’s coming together.” you took your dough covered hands away. “your turn.” his eyes lit up. “really? i can?” you laughed a bit. “of course you can, creed. nothings holding you back anymore.” with that, he resumed your previous technique and dirtied his hands. while he did so, you got to work on your own dough. “there we are, dear. see? it all comes together.” you weren’t sure what response this action would elicit, but you tried your luck and put a dot of dough on his nose with a warm smile. at this, he laughed, and licked his own fingers clean. it was a wide step in the right direction.

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A/N: alternate smut ending???? i would not mind. i had sooo much fun writing this and i absolutely loved this prompt and the entire plot of having to mix with your hands Comes From Experience. i hope it lived up to your expectations! thank you again. 🤍

#ezra miller #credence barebone imagine #credence barebone #credence barebone x reader #fluff #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts and where to find them #queenie goldstein #newt scamander #jacob kowalski #tina goldstein

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miizpah · 3 years

Text

daddy | suna rintarou

anon asks : Idk if you are taking requests 🥺! But was thinking of a suna x reader fic where they try for kids. I think daddy suna would be so cute with kids 😭🤚🏼

post timeskip ‼️

tw. breeding kink.

authors note : 🥺 requests are always open 🥺 and not me in the middle of changing up my writing theme and style 😖 this is probably the tamest request i’ve gotten, and i’m actually excited for this. daddy suna? stop b4 i froth into orbital. idk if you’ve wanted this smutty, but i literally can’t just write fluff 😔 pls enjoy!

not me changing up my writing style, i’ve been practicing with actually adding in some details and imagery — can’t believe english was my best subject 🙄

If being honest, you had always loved kids. Their tiny little fists and small pudgy feet, and the way they would run to their loved ones in pure excitement. It always clenched at your heart, making you loose your breath and your head becoming lightheaded. You wanted that, to have your own kids running up to you in excitement, screaming your name and hugging your legs. It was wholesome, beautiful, and you were a sucker for wholesome things.

You’ve thought of bringing it up with Rintarou, your want for children. You had the space, living in a big house with multiple spare rooms and baths, big open space for the living room and an even bigger backyard for the children to play. You had it all mapped out, really, the rooms you would need to baby proof, the room that you would set up as their nursery. Hell, you've already picked out a unisex theme for your baby's room. But, despite all of that, you had no clue what Rintarou would say.

He was in his prime, a pro volleyball player for the Reijins, he spent more time practicing and traveling for games than he did stay at home. And, you were only mildly okay with that fact. You too had a demanding job, and while you didn't travel as much as Rintarou, you still traveled.

Which brought you to your next thought. Both of you were too busy to have children, his job was demanding, your job was demanding, the baby would be more demanding. This was the only clear reason you were holding back on asking Rintarou on how he felt about children. Well, that and you’re kind of scared of what he would say. You knew some men would run at the first sign of responsibility, your dad being one, and you really did not want to put your marriage on the --

You shook your head at that dumb thought. He married you, he wouldn’t have married you if he didn’t want the responsibility of possible children in the future.

Sighing to yourself, you look at the clock in your home office, deciding that starting on dinner now would be much better than later. You submitted your response to your boss via email, powering down your desktop and exiting your office.

Hmm, what should I cook? You thought absentmindedly. Wait, I should... You smirk.

Only thirty minutes later, dinner was finished and set on the table, and you began to execute your plan.

...

“I’m home,” the tired voice of Rintarou came from the foyer. He stepped out of his training shoes clumsily, slipping into his house slippers before dragging himself inside the house fully. His hand clutched the straps of his gym bag loosely, eyes more hooded than usual.

He searched around for his pretty wife, looking into the living room, only finding your phone and the tv on playing some western movie with a... clown? He searched the kitchen and dining room, finding the dining table set and hot food steaming from dishes. It smelt delicious, and almost restored his energy, almost.

On the way to your room, he dropped his gym bag in the wash room, before dragging himself up the stairs. “Y/N?” He called.

“Rin?” Your voice was muffled, but could easily be detected. “I’m in our room!”

The room door was pushed open, revealing his pretty wife, in the middle of sliding on a black satin night gown. Rintarou paused in the doorway, seemingly seeing his energy levels rise up quickly. You noticed, grinning slyly to yourself before turning around.

“Welcome home, Rin,” you smile coyly. “How was was practice?” The night gown you wore was on the shorter side, allowing your supple thighs to be seen. Underneath the gown, you wore a red lingerie, with thigh straps connecting to the thong. You knew how much he loved seeing you in red.

“It was... It was fine,” Rintarou struggled a bit, eyes never leaving the way your breasts seemed to just sit there. His mouth watered. “What’s all this?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking down at your attire. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. Get showered, Rin, dinner won’t be hot for long.” With a kiss on his cold cheek, you sashayed away.

I could bring it up during dinner. You thought with a firm nod.

Rintarou’s eyes were hot on your skin, never once looking down as he ate his food. His hair was damp from his shower, and he had forgo putting on a shirt, which he knew would make you go slightly feral. It wasn’t your fault that you liked to admire your husband’s hard work, via his abs.

“So,” you started, sipping from your glass. “What all did you do at practice today?” You ask, sitting the glass down and finally meeting his narrowed eyes. You could practically see the desire rolling off of him.

“Serving,” he humored you, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth and eating the meat and rice. He chewed exaggeratingly slow, eyes locked onto yours, finally he swallowed. “A bit of blocking, I’m working on a new technique.”

“Oh? And, will I see this new technique?” You sit your chin on your palm, sitting your chopsticks down and giving him your full attention.

“You will,” he nodded, smirking slightly. “At the game on Sunday.”

“Hey, no fair,” you whined, lips pouting slightly. “I want to be the first of your fans to see the new technique.” You were joking, trying to lighten the suffocating mood.

Rintarou rolled his eyes, waving you off. “Number one fan behavior.” You giggle at that, leaning back in your seat. “And, you? How was your day?”

“I had to finish my project today,” you answer. “Not to be overly cocky, but it was perfect if I do say so myself. Boss will just have to give me that promotion.”

“It was that good?” He finished off the last of his food, nursing his glass of wine.

“It wasn’t just good, baby.” You said, a smirk on your lips and pride in your eyes. You were passionate about your job, and with that promotion, you would become director of your own branch. “It was perfect.”

If you became director, you wouldn’t have to travel anymore, you could even work from home. It was perfect. You had to get that promotion.

Before long, both of you had finished off your drinks, washed and put away the dishes, and found yourself lounging in the living room. It was quiet, the only sound being the tv playing a western reality show, Americans were crazily entertaining.

Rintarou was rubbing slow circles with his thumb on your smooth, hairless leg, which hadn’t been hairless early. His eyes were trained on his phone. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Hey,” you said, quietly but enough to get his attention. He only hummed, eyes not leaving his phone. “What do you think about kids?”

Rintarou looked over to you almost instantly, a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He almost looked feral. “Right now? Is this a new way for asking for sex?”

“What?” A laugh startled out of you. “No! I’m saying I want to have your babies.”

“But that entitles sex? Just say you want sex.”

“Oh my God... I want to have kids, little fucking people running around our house calling us mommy and daddy.”

“...I heard you the first time,” Rintarou looked away. “But we have to have sex for that.”

You take in a deep breath, eyes rolling. “Listen, Rin. I know we have to have sex, but I am asking you do you want kids?” You explain simply.

“With you, I want lots of kids.” He looked back to you, eyes wide and honest.

Your heart clenched, painfully. A breathtaking smile appearing on your lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come ‘ere, we need to do the sex.”

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What’s the best position to get pregnant in?”

“I-”

“You know what, who gives a fuck? I’ll just plug your hole or something.”

“I’m- What the hell goes through your mind?”

Laid against the cotton sheets, you look downward as Rintarou slides his hands against your thighs, tugging on the thigh straps harshly and causing them to snap back. A soft moan escape your lips, the small twinge of pain being the start of what was next to come.

“So pretty, baby, got all dressed up for me, hm?” His words are hot against your lower stomach, placing a teasing kiss above your pelvis. “Silly little wife, tempting her husband all night.”

You whimper, legs spreading a bit wider as he settled himself between your thighs. His fingers hooking underneath your garter belt, easily unbelting it and throwing it away. His kisses trail down further, pressing a soft kiss against your clothed heat. “You smell so good, angel.”

“I need you, Rin...” You whine, faintly wiggling your hips.

“Patience, silly wife.” His hands grip your thighs, spreading them as he sat on his knees. “You’re soaking through your panties, baby.” A hand comes down, lightly slapping your clothed cunt. You whimper, bringing a hand down and gripping his wrist. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Please, Rin. Just fuck me already!” You whine loudly, moving your hips against his palm.

“Shit, okay,” he pulled his hand away, using both to pull your panties and thigh straps off. His eyes fluttered once your sopping cunt was revealed, messy and dripping, and just for him.

You can only hum in appreciate at the stretch in your thighs as Rintarou pushed them to your chest, folding you into a mating press. Within seconds, he’s pushing into your cunt, stretching you wide. You could only lay there and take it, your gummy walls tight around his cock.

Head falling back against the pillows, you moan as you feel him still sinking into you. The position was new to both of you, and was hitting spots that you’ve never felt before. Your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, eyes fluttering close and mouth falling open as more moans spilled.

“D-deep,” you muttered breathlessly, opening your eyes and locking eyes with his. “So good, Rin~”

He smirked before leaning down and slotting your mouths together, swallowing each other noises as he finally sheathed deeply inside of you, kissing your cervix softly. Your tongues tangled together, causing your salvias to mix and dribbling between you both.

Steadily, he pulled back, cock dragging against your tight walls. Lips still locked, he pushed back in, swallowing your cries of pleasure. You pulled away then, licking your lips and taking a deep breath.

Head bowed, and eyes locked on your drooling cunt, he started to thrust at a slow pace, seemingly fascinated at seeing his cock sink into you at a new angle. One of your hands came up and tangled into his dark locks, head falling back against the pillows as you slowly fell deeper and deeper into a delirious state.

“Fucking sexy the way your messy cunt take my cock,” he looked up then, your hand falling from his hair. “My messy wife, hm?”

“Rin, faster-” Was all you could say, the slow drag of his cock fucking you into a state of dumbness.

He smirked then, liking the state you were in. His hips pulled back, and with a sharp thrust, he was fully sheathed again.

Breath warm against your cheek, he began to fuck into you like a man possessed, his hands enclosing around your wrists and pressing them against the bed. Your moans mixing with the lewd sounds emitting from your cunt, creating a symphony that only proved to make you both feral.

“Going pump you full, angel, shit.” Rintarou whispered breathlessly against your ear, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine, moans growing louder. “Fill you to the brim with my cum, going to feel it for days.”

“Yes,” you keen, gummy walls fluttering around his cock. “Pump me full, Rin. Want your cum so bad.”

“Shitshitshitshit,” he groaned, leaning back and pulling out. Easily, he turned your body around, dragging you to your hands and knees, and entering your cunt in all the same second.

You didn’t have enough time to register before he’s hammering into you, causing you cry out loudly, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, fuck!” His hands bruised against your hips, holding them tightly as he used them as leverage to pistol into you.

“Gonna fuck so many babies into you,” he spat, slapping your ass cheek harshly. “Gonna look so beautiful swole with my child, fuck!”

You whine loudly, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Rin, I wanna cum!”

He seemed to easily find your spot, the one spot that never fails to have your body shaking, muscles tensing up, and you screaming his name.

“Ah, ah, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Rin!” Your fluttering walls tighten around his cock, body tensing as you cum. Your hands gripping the sheets so tightly, head bowed against the bed and back arched down.

“Damn, you’re so sexy, angel.” He groaned, spilling deep within your cunt. Both of you left breathless. “Don’t move, and you better not spill an inch of my cum.” He said, slowly pulling his cock free.

You sat there, catching your breath, and clenching your walls as tight as you could without relaxing. You flinch when you feel a cold metal rub against your sensitive clit. “Relax,” Rin muttered as he pushed the plug against your hole, you did as told, and slowly he pushed the plug inside to the hilt.

“Shower,” you groan, standing with the help of Rintarou.

“Shower sex?”

“Rin, you just plugged me.”

“You have another two holes.”

“I will kill you.”

“So... no head?”

note — not me tryna to reference a vine at the end, lmaooooo. i hope anon liked this, :)!! i’m not the best at breeding kinks. 😔 not edited 😔

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #✨.requests.#🌚.dirty #suna smut #suna x reader #suna rinataro #tw.breeding

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by-nina · 3 years

Text

Exchange

Artwork by @caesurables; do not repost.

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2021 | Day 1 – King’s gambit/Queen’s gambit Rating: M (light drinking, sexual content) Genre: Lemon Word Count: 3,230

A/N: Happy Royai Week, everyone! Welcome to the spiciest thing I've written so far, which marks the first time I'm starting Royai Week with smut. I hope this feeds you well. Special shoutout to Mica for adding life to this with the gorgeous art! 😍

Something stirs in her; on one hand, it would be easy to call it yearning. But on the other, nothing that concerns Roy Mustang has ever been easy. Riza has always equated these things with methodical moves and calculated risks.

And so, for once, Riza pictures herself playing her game not for Roy’s sake, but for hers. She imagines that the stakes are different, the rules may be broken, and the only person she has ever wanted is both her gamble and her prize. She could have it all now—she need only play her piece.

———

Roy Mustang was made for a night like this. Handsome, stylish dress uniform, hair slicked back like a frame around his striking facial features, an air of dignity in his walk, his posture, even his gaze. He wears it all so well that he stands out from older, more distinguished company in the East City Hotel, where tonight, the Eastern Army is holding an extravagant ball in recognition of its recently promoted officers.

Riza is present as well, of course. For the occasion, she has traded her usual military attire for a blue satin gown with a flatteringly slender silhouette. A sash pinned with the insignia of her rank hangs from her shoulder to her hip. Having gone up the stage much earlier in the program for her own recognition, she has now retreated to the far end of the room, from where she’s got a full view of Roy as he waits to be called in front of the crowd.

Her promotion from Second to First Lieutenant is nowhere near as significant as his becoming Colonel, but it is no less her night than his. Selfish though the thought may be, it’s true that Roy owes this night to her, every title and every honor conferred to him. In every aspect of his life, she has made a crucial choice that allowed him to take a step in the right direction towards their goals—his goals that she has chosen to make her own.

“For the rank of Colonel, Roy Mustang…”

It was Riza’s choice to join him in the military, and it was this choice that has kept him on his path and his eyes on these goals. She has been devoted to his success just as much as to her act of atonement, but she was not subservient to either. Roy also carries with him the burden of their sins in Ishval. Her responsibility over his atonement means that she has more power than a subordinate would normally have under their superior. Anyone could be a dutiful subordinate or competent bodyguard, after all, but only she could be trusted with his life as well as his death.

“… the formidable Flame Alchemist…”

And it was her choice to reveal the secrets of flame alchemy, entrusted to her by her father, that first set him on the path towards his goals for the people and the country in the first place. Had she not trusted him, Roy would have searched further and longer for some other practice of alchemy. Had Riza chosen to die with her father’s secrets, Roy might not have come anywhere near who he is now.

“… and Hero of Ishval.”

Every choice she has made in their intertwined lives has determined the course of his, even when he should have been none of her concern. This was especially true in Ishval. She could have pulled the trigger at any time when she despised him most. She could have reversed the choice that brought him to Ishval. Riza chose instead to be an ally—a friend in a war where every other sense of humanity seemed to have been lost.

The Hero of Ishval was made through her actions; as was the Flame Alchemist; as was this shiny new Colonel Roy Mustang. As he is introduced by Lieutenant General Grumman, he takes his place at the center of the ballroom stage, and his titles and promotion seem all the more impressive due to the fact that he is the only new Colonel being recognized tonight. The crowd erupts in a reverent applause which Riza does not join in.

In different circumstances, if it weren’t for the very cards they have been dealt, tonight could have truly been happy, a cause for celebration. But their plans continue forming and unfolding; this game on which they have staked their lives does not pause. And so Riza watches him as she drinks her champagne, quietly imagining the steps they ought to take next, the moves they must plan, the sacrifices she must make in this gambit where she is both player and piece and he is the king set to take it all.

Her life is a game which she plays for Roy Mustang to win.

When his moment passes and the ceremony moves on, Roy descends from the stage, searching through the crowd for Riza. He finds her and meets her gaze across the room, and for a moment she wavers in her train of thought. She is familiar with this feeling. She has felt its pull before, but never this strongly, never with enough clarity so as to explicitly name him its object. How could she possibly feel it towards someone for whose sake she has forgotten her own needs and her own desires? How could she not be indifferent instead?

Riza leaves her champagne on a nearby table and turns in the opposite direction to walk off its effects. The party thankfully offers plenty enough distraction from the drink and from Roy. She meets a few colleagues here and there, makes small talk, and when she loses sight of Roy, she’s certain that he has been intercepted by people wishing to congratulate him or rub elbows with him for his prodigious rise through the ranks. She soon manages to extricate herself from the crowd and disappear from the ballroom.

———

“You should be celebrating tonight, Lieutenant.”

Riza knows that Roy has found her before he even speaks. She didn’t think that he would. She had wandered around the hotel until she found herself in distant, unfamiliar hallways decorated with beautiful artwork that she could admire until her intoxication had worn off enough to safely drive home. But there is no mistaking the sound of his footsteps or the scent of his perfume tinged with the liquor from the party. Part of her wants to disappear again, but his proximity in an otherwise deserted place seems to further slow down her currently unreliable reflexes.

Riza smiles dryly. “Does it matter if we received our actual promotions a week ago? We all know this is just an excuse to flatter ourselves and have a good time without spending our own money.” Roy smirks as she shakes her head. “Either way, I think I'll enjoy the party much better here, away from the crowd. But you're everyone's darling for the evening. They'll be wanting you back."

Roy sighs and rubs the side of his head, as if the very thought tires him. "I see enough of them at work. And there's going to be more of them around now, especially when we get transferred to Central. This night isn't about them."

The mention of Central causes Riza to bristle with alertness. She whips her head around to ascertain that the hallway is deserted. Behind her, she finds an intricately carved double door, and she quickly strides across the hallway to it. To her surprise, it is unlocked; the room beyond it appears to be dark and deserted. Riza shoots a glance at Roy as she enters. He swiftly follows.

Riza spots a nearby floor lamp just before she locks the door. For a moment, the room is pitch black, then Riza switches on the lamp. Its warm glow is just enough for her to make out Roy’s face and the silhouettes of the furniture in the room. They seem to have found themselves in a lavish parlour with a high-backed sofa and matching armchairs, a handsome tea table for two, a fireplace carved from white marble, and a vintage piano.

“I see you’re already making plans for proceeding to Central,” Riza begins. “We should be more careful about discussing them from now on, Colonel. Everyone has their eyes on you.”

Roy stares at her questioningly. Then, a small laugh breaks through his expression, and he shakes his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come looking for you to talk about our plans.”

She frowns. “What is it, then?”

“It’s just like I said. You should be celebrating tonight.” He draws what sounds like both a nervous breath and a laugh. “It wouldn’t have been right to enjoy the party without you. You’re the reason we’ve both come this far.” He pauses, and then his voice turns softer than before. There is no trace of a smile left in it or on his face. “I know you know that, Lieutenant.”

In the soft light, Roy’s face appears flushed, his features softer than they were when she watched him back at the ballroom. Riza doesn’t realize just how close he is until the scent of champagne on her is lost to his raspberry wine. Something stirs in her; on one hand, it would be easy to call it yearning. But on the other, nothing that concerns Roy Mustang has ever been easy. Riza has always equated these things with methodical moves and calculated risks.

But never in any of their plans or her own did she consider this a possible outcome, that Roy Mustang would be kissing her with one gentle hand on her face and another on her waist, or that the warmth of his body could be such a welcome comfort. He kisses her as if he has known for a long time just how closely he would need to lean in, how to tilt his head to the correct angle so that the curve of his lips would fit perfectly with hers. Riza senses this not because of unrestrained passion—on the contrary, Roy is perfectly still. The kiss is tender, but the rest of him is tense, as if it’s the only thing holding him together now. Or as if it’s the only thing he has held out for all this time.

Roy breaks away from her slowly, and it’s Riza whose heart is thundering in her chest. Perhaps, had the game been hers alone to play, it wouldn’t have led them so far so soon. Had it been she to approach him first, they might have only teetered over their fragile lines and not fully crossed to a point of no return. But Roy has taken her by surprise where the playing field has always seemed to be even between them. This, she cannot accept—she has never made a gamble that she did not see through. This will not change now.

She will play her game on her own terms.

Riza flings her arms over Roy’s shoulders as she kisses him, one hand running through his hair and undoing it back to the style she knows and likes best on him. It makes her want more—thank heavens that he realizes it right away. He responds so ardently that they stumble, so he steers her until she falls back against the piano and dissonant notes blare over their sighs. His hand runs down her side, over her hip and into the slit of her blue dress, where he reaches under her thigh and lifts it up against his leg.

But Riza refuses to give in so easily. She trails her hand down his front, all the way down to where he has started to turn hard. A gasp escapes him when she wraps her fingers around his erection and tugs at it. It gives her an opportunity to push back and reverse their positions so he is seated on the piano—it clangs unpleasantly again—and she is leaning over him as she makes short work of his jacket and his shirt to kiss his chest. The further down Riza drags her lips, the less familiar she is with the territory she is exploring, but she goes on until she brushes against that warm, rough outline. Riza tugs his trousers down, and when he springs free of his clothing, she takes Roy into her mouth.

He is exactly how she wants him right now, inelegant and vulnerable with his head hanging all the way back. Riza starts off slowly, but she is eager to figure out whether she can get him to unravel more quickly with her lips running back and forth along the length of him, or with her fingers massaging the base which her mouth cannot reach. His pleasure seems to build unhurriedly until she twists her tongue around, making him throb and moan quaveringly. She becomes hungry to hear more of him and picks up the pace, never mind that the effort is choking her. Roy grips her hair until it falls out of its pins, ultimately coming loose down her back. She goes, and goes, and she thinks he might be close, but then—

But then Roy pulls her up so he could kiss her, and Riza sighs in pleasure, and it isn’t enough for her just to watch him unravel anymore. She falls into him in a blissful, drunken haze, allowing him to kiss and caress her and unzip her dress. She could burst into flames at every part of her that he touches, even the scars that he had left on her back when their game was at its deadliest. He begins rubbing her between her legs, and there it hardly matters whether his touch flutters over her skin like candlelight or pushes as suddenly as lightning—the sensation just builds and builds, like a storm stirring up the sea.

How could he know so well what to do with her, how to give her just enough and yet leave her wanting more without ever having explored her this way before? The question is quickly lost in Riza’s mind as he finds other ways to arouse her. Now, he’s pulling the top of her dress down, switching positions with her again, alternating between kissing her lips and her breasts. It’s easy to follow him where he goes when he’s leading her through a dazzling trance, easier than it has ever been to follow him in any other way.

The storm slows only once as Roy’s lips brush against her ear with a stammering plea. “Do you want me to—can I keep going?”

Riza hardly recognizes the sound of her own voice when she gasps, “Please.”

Slowly, carefully, he enters her, with her dress hiked up above her hips. Despite the mild ache that comes with it at first, it feels better than anything she could have planned or imagined. Riza is shaking now. She buries her face in Roy’s neck and moans there, where only he can hear her, and she feels his excitement growing at the sound of it. He begins to thrust into her—clang, clang, clang, goes the piano—first at an even pace, which helps ease away her initial discomfort. When the tension disappears from her shoulders, she finds herself swaying against him hungrily. He varies from going exhilaratingly fast to tantalizingly slow—clang, clang, clang!—and at some point, she whimpers—

“Roy—"

It seems to awaken something feral in him. Everything he does with her is greedy now, from his kisses running clumsily from her neck to her lips and back, to his hands grabbing at every part of her that he can reach—and although she likes him like this, unhinged and at the same time in complete control, it makes her want to give him more than she is getting.

Riza pushes herself off the piano and into Roy, and he is more than willing to let her drive him down to the floor. There, she pulls at his hair as she kisses him, then shifts slightly so he can kiss her chest while she slowly sinks down and allows him back into her. Their rhythm is easier to find this time. She starts off at a pace that builds up the heat in her body just right, then later allows his hands and hips to guide her with more fervor and intent. Soon, the pleasure is just too close for her to wait any longer, and they are both overcome with an aching desperation—

“Roy”—she pleads, groans—“oh—"

“Riza—ahh—fuck—”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop—"

Roy climbs over her, snaking his arms around her to grab at her chest, and he enters her from behind without breaking their rhythm, thrusting vigorously until and throughout her release. The rush, the bliss, the high is simply unthinkable—Riza presses her forehead down and bites her own hand hard to keep herself from screaming. She sinks into an ungraceful sprawl on the floor, drenched in sweat and tremors and Roy’s weight all over her body, but also as feeling if she were made purely of her sensations, with no physical body at all.

A moment passes, or two, or an eternity before she turns to lie on her back. Roy has collapsed next to her and entangled with her, so he adjusts to make way for her. She then finds herself looking up at him; Roy is leaning over her, seeming like an entirely different person with his gentle gaze, his tousled hair, his clothes only barely clinging to his body. His clothes—a reminder of who he is, and therefore, the gravity of what they have just done.

The high subsides almost as quickly as it came over her.

The room is piercingly silent as they scramble back to their feet and several meters away from each other. They keep their backs turned as they smooth their clothes back onto themselves and comb their hair into some normal, unquestionable style. Riza’s senses settle back into rationality at last. This was not a different way to play their old game. This was a temporary escape, a rare exception to her life’s unwavering rules.

“Riza.”

It’s unsettling how he says her name as if it were what he normally calls her, so she does not respond. Surely, he understands that what has just transpired between them must remain in the past, in favor of the reality that they left outside the door. Surely, he knows as well as she does that that reality has already resumed before they have even left the room.

He calls her name again. Riza, again, refuses to acknowledge him.

“Lieutenant.”

Her resolve wavers for only a moment. Riza knows exactly what he is doing. She knows her own excuse for this lapse in judgment—she knows how to keep it from happening ever again. But she can tell by his current insistence and his earlier passion that he doesn’t consider this a mistake like she does. This is, after all, exactly how he plays the game—head on, without hesitation. Roy has broken the rules more thoroughly than she has. He would have done so without her instigation. He has made perfectly clear the gamble that he is willing to make for her.

Riza turns, brushing past Roy and out of the room without so much as looking at him—leaving him behind the door, leaving as much of her selfish desires as she can possibly let go of—because she knows she must keep him from gambling everything away.

175 notes · View notes

lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.2

Finally, she felt well enough to leave the infirmary room for good. Her internal organs were at peace for the most part and she could keep some food down without the risk of seeing it for a second time. Her sinuses still seemed to refuse to recover though. Occasional nosebleeds would have her head spinning and the scent of blood so often present within the castle was somehow too offensive to her senses. Nicole couldn't help but wonder how exactly she got it this screwed up, but then again the first few days of the infection were a painful blur that she'd rather not remember.

For now she was content to sit in front of the fireplace with the rest of her family. They decided to have a movie night to break her out of the mopey state she had been in and, for the most part, it was quite the success. She wasn't paying much attention to the projector screen, some sappy scene from a movie chosen by Daniela playing at the moment. Instead, she was simply enjoying the close proximity to Cassandra that she so dearly missed in the last few weeks. Nicole was in the brunette's lap, with hands loosely around her waist and leaning against her shoulder. She was vaguely aware of Laura complaining about the poor life choices of one of the characters only to be unceremoniously shushed by the youngest sister. It made her chuckle.

Bela was passing the popcorn to her mothers when a knock on the main entrance reached their ears faintly. Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes in the general direction of the sound, and listened. Soon enough the rapid steps of Alexandria, their Steward, reached them.

"My Ladies, Mother Miranda's assistant is here."

The whole family got up hesitantly and tried to look as presentable as possible, given their "lazy day outfits". For some like Bela that was a baggy shirt and shorts, while for the Lady it was one of her trademark white dresses. They made their way to the main entrance of the castle, where the assistant, a woman in her late thirties and the air of an annoyed teacher, was waiting. It was Alcina the one to ask why she was there.

"Mother Miranda wants to see um… Nicole was it? Yes, to take a look at the regenerative abilities."

"Why not do it here like last time?"

"Mother Miranda's laboratory is far better equipped for whatever she may want to test. Unless you have something to say against her wishes." She finished that with a raised eyebrow that would've gained her a talon through the skull were she not there as per Miranda's wishes.

Who's talons exactly was debatable.

"I'll come too," Cassandra spoke up from just behind Nicole.

That only got her a dismissive wave. "No, I was told specifically to only bring her. Come now, we don't want to make Mother Miranda wait."

With that, the woman turned around and started walking towards a carriage that would take them away. Nicole looked briefly at her family. They all had either confusion or mild concern in their eyes. All but Alcina who looked as if she'd like to protest and snap at the woman but was holding her tongue.

She reassured Cassandra that she'd be fine and started jogging after the assistant.

---

Needless to say, that was Nicole's first time stepping foot inside the underground network of tunnels. Not that she complained. Few people went there willingly and probably fewer left the same way they came in.

The ancient looking hallways were in such stark contrast with the occasional medical equipment and the pristine looking labs with doors left slightly ajar that Nicole had to wonder if the woman had no taste for a consistent aesthetic. At least Lady Dimitrescu kept all wiring and modern devices carefully hidden or blended in with the castle's decor. Here, the harsh neon lights illuminated worn out stone so dark it was almost black. Not to mention the smell of… old that seemed to ooze off the very walls she was walking by.

She was led inside a spacious lab, the bluish lights above being too bothersome for someone who got used to the warm or natural light in the castle. The room was rather long, numerous hospital beds lined up against a wall, some separated by white curtains and some left visible. An almost imperceptible whiff of an all too familiar foul odor reached her nose, but it was mild enough to be easily ignored. Nicole had a suspicion that the unmoving person laying in one of the cots further away could be the source, but she sighed and hoped not to join them by the end of the day.

Mother Miranda was sat at a desk, microscope in front of her together with a small stack of documents and a laptop. She was typing in what could probably be notes on whatever she was looking at, when icy grey eyes finally shifted to Nicole.

"Get changed and lay down," she ordered, not even moving from her spot.

The assistant that had brought her here, pushed a hospital gown that had been pulled out from a cupboard in her arms. At least she was allowed the decency of changing into a bathroom as opposed to stripping then and there in the middle of the room. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, fabric folding around her body and being held closed by a loose ribbon that she tried at the side.

Once she was back in the lab, she was ushered to one of the beds where she laid down, nervously waiting for whatever Miranda had in mind.

It was quite odd to see her without her usual attire, especially without the gold talons that Nicole was now far more familiar with than she'd ever hoped. The white lab coat looked far too normal on her and, were it not for the unmistakable cold eyes and regal posture, the woman would’ve been unrecognizable.

She finally got up, a few documents in hand, and approached her. The papers were handed over to the assistant, along with a few other objects and finally, Nicole had her full attention.

Mother Miranda bent down, scalpel in hand, and grabbed one of Nicole's wrists. Just like she did back during the first examination, the blade was dragged across the length of her forearm. Despite fully expecting it, Nicole couldn't help flinching at the pain, but she kept her eyes fixated on her arm, at the blood slowly starting to flow from the wound.

Soon the same tingling as before took over the pain and before their eyes, the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"Time," Miranda asked while wiping the blood to allow for a closer inspection of the now good as new skin.

"Five seconds."

"Alcina's?"

"Three seconds."

Miranda hummed, seemingly pleased with the results. Or at least as pleased as the woman was physically capable of being.

"Hook her up to the cardiac monitor," she further instructed while moving to retrieve something from another cabinet.

The assistant, Emma, if the tag pinned to her lab coat was to be believed, stuck a series of electrodes to her chest and abdomen. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a yelp when one came uncomfortably close to the still sensitive skin of the scar.

In no time, the machine came to life, familiar beeping sounding through the otherwise silent room.

"I hope you're not afraid of needles," Miranda said while grabbing the same arm she had before, lips pulled into a faint smirk.

Nicole only shook her head as she saw the needle of a syringe attached to a transparent slim tube slide into her arm. How ironic would that be. The sting was close to imperceptible, taken over by the now familiar faint tingle. Unlike with the cut, it didn't fade away, most likely due to not being able to fully heal the small wound with the needle embedded in the skin and vein.

She looked away, in the direction of the other occupied bed in the room. It was far away enough that she couldn't make out any detail, only messy brown hair sprawled on a pillow. The face was turned towards the wall and body covered up to the neck. She grimaced and decided instead to focus on the beeping machine, mildly annoyed by Miranda's lack of properly separating her dead lab rats from the living ones. At least she hoped she'd stay living.

The numbers on the machine started out normal. With the slight uncomfortable feeling of blood being drained however, her heart rate started to slowly increase.

Alright. Normal enough. Especially when someone is clearly in a fucking blood draining mood.

Nicole decided not to look at exactly how much blood Miranda was drawing, keeping her eyes glued to the various color coded numbers. The heart rate kept increasing until Nicole could swear she could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She gulped. Still relatively within the norm.

Two things were at odds however. First, the blood pressure remained constant, almost as if her body simply refused to acknowledge the fact that it was currently being drained. Secondly, the temperature rose from the normal 36 degrees to a staggering 41 in less time than it should have.

"What the fuck…" She couldn't keep her tongue at the weirdness of her situation, her brain thankfully choosing confusion and curiosity over the dread that it probably should've felt instead.

Mother Miranda didn't seem to care though as she turned to type something on the laptop that she brought over from the desk. She tapped her finger on the device for a few seconds and finally spoke up.

"The accelerated healing means the blood is being regenerated constantly, thus not decreasing in volume. Which explains the constant pressure." She narrowed her eyes at the monitor once again. "It doesn't, however, explain the heart rate and temperature. Any bright guesses?"

It took Nicole a second to realize the question was actually addressed to her. Miranda seemed in an oddly good mood. Not any less hell bent on causing her pain, mind you, but she also seemed genuinely curious. Being a biology nerd will do that to you, she couldn't help but think.

Nicole hummed and thought for a second. She tried to recall any information about the topic at hand that she had studied prior to running away.

"Heart rate could just be the normal body response that stayed even with the mutation. Like… like a reflex. It remains even though it's not needed." Then she tapped a finger on her chin trying to find a less random explanation. "Or maybe it's the body's way of making sure that even while healing all body parts remain at least decently functional. No idea about the temperature though," she shrugged.

Miranda once again typed something up and then, without warning, pulled the needle out of Nicole's arm. She flinched, barely holding in an angry protest as she turned towards the woman. Which was a mistake. She couldn't help the gag that raised in the back of her throat at the sight of the metal container full of blood.

No, no, blood did not bother her. That would've cut her career as a medical examiner short before she even stepped foot in med school. It was the knowledge that that was her blood that made her stomach churn. The container could easily fit three liters of liquid in it, and it was full to the brim. Not to mention the smell that assaulted her still messed up sinuses mixing oh so perfectly with mr. corpse over in the corner.

Miranda just chuckled at her sour expression. "Do you think your darling wife would like to have this?"

With a sneer, masked by Nicole turning once again towards the monitor, she couldn't help slipping an edge of snark in her reply. "No need, she likes it fresh."

The numbers were back to normal, all but for the temperature that was taking slightly longer to go down.

---

By this point her vocal cords were raw from screaming and each shuddering sob felt like clumps of spines in her throat. Nicole was curled in on herself, small frame trembling pathetically on top of the uncomfortable bed. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the tingling sensation feeling like needles constantly pricking at her skin around and under the wired leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The frantic beeping of the machine was grating to her ears.

An electric shock test.

Of course.

Mother Miranda decided to test out how the increased heart rate worked. Results? Her body vehemently refused to allow her to pass out. Even when the shocks traveled through every part of her body, causing the nervous system to short circuit. Even when damage to internal organs and muscles ripped painful sobs from her throat, that turned into gags as soon as the tingling turned to nausea. Even when she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage so fast that she was sure the small organ would burst any second. But it didn’t.

Every muscle in her body flared up in a sensation of painful pins and needles when Miranda pushed the button to release another shock. The cardiac monitor started screaming again and Nicole brought shaky hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her whole body was on fire while all the damaged tissue repaired itself, making her stomach turn painfully. She felt like throwing up. Not that she had eaten anything today, but bile and thick blood still coated her esophagus. It was all swallowed back with a disgusting gulp.

The nausea was oh so kindly accompanied by searing pain from her still damaged sinuses, who’s condition only worsened exponentially with the electricity. The blood that seemed to coat all the way up to the inside of her mouth felt horrible mixed with the putrid smell of death.

She swallowed again, but that proved itself a bad decision as now that same smell permeated the very inside of her nose and mouth and throat and the feeling of blood sloshing on her tongue behind clenched teeth made her head spin.

She lurched forward, a small river of dark blood flowing from her mouth and nose, into her palms that she instinctively brought to her mouth. Wet coughs made it splatter into crimson splotches on the white sheets, herself and anything else within proximity. It took surprisingly long to realize that, after the initial wave that rose up her esophagus, the rest of the blood was from her sinuses. It was cruelly invading her nose and sliding back into her throat only to come out of her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck-

“What’s wrong?” Miranda’s tone lacked any trace of sympathy.

Nicole simply coughed out the remaining fluid from her mouth and unceremoniously grabbed a piece of cloth from Emma’s hands. She pressed it to her nose, only to feel it soaked against her skin far too soon.

“Damaged sinuses, as you said,” she croaked, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

That made Miranda frown. She kept that same expression while noting down the previous results. “It should be healed by now.”

“Well they aren't,” Nicole spat. The blood and the horrid smell were clouding her mind and, as many knew, pain and holding her tongue did not mix well in her. “And did we really have to do this in the same room as a dead fucking body?!”

Nicole’s angry outburst gave the woman pause. Annoyance mixed with a hint of confusion on her face. She looked at her assistant, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“No. Just- just anestesia.” Emma answered promptly.

“What the fuck do you mean anesthesia? Anesthesia doesn’t make you smell like a goddamn decomposing corpse, do you have cotton stuck up your noses?!” Thankfully the bleeding was starting to subside, which meant there was nothing to stifle her steadily raising angry tone.

Miranda, now sporting a scowl, got up and grabbed Nicole’s chin between two fingers. It made her flinch back, but there was no escaping the iron grip.

“I can assure you that the man is not dead, simply under anesthesia and recovering from a bad infection.” She moved Nicole’s head from left to right, eyes scrutinizing as ever.

Afterwards, she turned back and wrote something down on a piece of paper and simply instructed Emma to wrap up and lead Nicole out. The sudden shift not only in demeanor, but also in her position from the bed to standing upright was mildly dizzying. She swapped the gown for her normal clothes as quickly as she physically could, not wanting to spend another unnecessary second in this underground grave.

While she was ushered out the door, Mother Miranda’s sickly sweet voice rang after her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Her stomach turned.

---

The trek home was short and silent, Nicole simply wanting to get home as soon as possible and get a damn hot shower and sleep.

She bid the young man that was accompanying her goodbye the moment the Castle’s entrance was within jogging distance, and hurried steps took her to the imposing doors. It was Alexandria to answer her knock, Nicole having left her own keys in her bedroom.

“Welcome back my la-” the polite smile was all but wiped off the woman’s face, replaced by wide eyes. “Are you injured?”

Nicole looked at her confused, then down at herself. A muttered curse escaped past her lips when she remembered the bloody mess on her skin. “I’m okay. Just-... just don’t tell anyone I’m here yet. I'll change first.”

Her plan went out the window when a set of hasty steps came booming toward them.

“Nico-”

Cassandra’s voice died in her throat when her golden eyes landed on Nicole’s small frame, dried dark blood on her face and arms and her clothes stained. An angry growl slipped from between bared teeth.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Nicole was quick to answer, too tired to deal with anything other than a few hours of sleep. “I’m okay. I’m just-...” she shook her head, then turned to the Steward. “Alexandria kindly ask a maid to draw me a bath.”

“At once.” And with that the woman turned and scurried away, most likely also not wanting to be in the vicinity of an angry Cassandra.

---

The hot water felt like pure bliss on her skin. It seemed to make every muscle relax and get rid of the awful tension. She leaned back, eyes closed and hands idly moving through the water.

It was just mildly difficult to fully relax with Cassandra muttering and pacing back and forth in the same room though.

"I'm-... I'm not letting you do this again."

Nicole simply sighed and started to scrub away at dried blood. The miniature red waterfall from earlier had gotten blood all over her arms and chest, some splatters even getting on her legs. Her face was also a mess, trails of blood going from her nose and mouth to the chin with smudges and splatters.

"What did she even do to you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a knock came from the door and a maid entered with a few clean towels and a change of clothes from Nicole's own bedroom. The girl didn't linger, simply giving them both a courteous bow and exiting the room.

Looking for something to change the subject, Nicole focused on the pleasant honey smell. Honey with a slight citrus-y undertone, maybe lemon or orange.

"Did you get a new soap?"

Cassandra stopped pacing, brows furrowed. "No? It's the same one."

Confused, Nicole brought a hand that had just been scrubbed with that very soap right under her nose and took a deep inhale. It was indeed the same one. Chamomile and mint. She sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cool porcelain while Cassandra came and bent down on one knee to be somewhat on eye level.

"Nose still not working properly or…?" She said while gingerly tilting Nicole's chin up with two fingers. She grimaced at one yet to be washed trail of dried blood that made its way to her wife's thin upper lip.

Nicole simply shook her head and grabbed Cassandra's hand. "Can you… go get ready. I'm beyond tired and just want to lay down with you."

Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded none the less. With a kiss on top of red hair, she turned and left the spacious bathroom, door shutting with a heavy thud.

Left alone, she scrubbed every inch of skin again and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warmth of the water. It felt so incredibly odd to not feel any actual pain after the day's events. Any trace of what her body went through had been erased by her newfound ability, not leaving behind even the faintest mark of a scar, nor blackened skin caused by electric shocks.

She pushed herself out of the tub, grimacing at the slight pink tone the water had taken. Body and hair quickly dried with the towels, she put on the clothes, a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, and finally stepped out of the bathroom too.

Cassandra was waiting for her in bed, velvety dark robes hanging loosely on her shoulders and eyes fixated on the window while her fingers were tapping furiously on the cover of a book forgotten in her lap. Book that was quickly placed on the nightstand when Nicole climbed in beside her and pushed her way into the brunette's arms. She was tired and absolutely not above demanding cuddles.

Her wife wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling the soft blanket up to cover them both. Nicole interlocked their fingers, absentmentally turning the ring on Cassandra's finger. The same ring she had, albeit in a smaller size. A golden band with intricate floral patterns engraved on it. It had no protruding gem, something they both opted for so that the rings wouldn't need to be taken off while working and wearing gloves. Instead, eight small ocre gems were lined among the minuscule curled leaves.

It took Cassandra about two minutes to take a deep inhale and open her mouth. New record.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Nicole didn't look up at her, the concern dripping from her words alone were enough to squeeze her heart painfully.

"No. I'm all healed up, just tired." She could almost feel Cassandra's question of clarification, but not wanting to go over what had happened down in the laboratory so soon, she opted for something the brunette would hopefully be just as interested in. "We did get some odd results though."

At the lack of any interruption she went on. "Accelerated heart rate whenever I get hurt. Can't pass out." Which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the point of view and situation. "Also for some reason my temperature gets really high."

"You get one hell of a fever?"

"Yeah."

Cassandra tapped a finger on Nicole's hand, mentally going over possibilities. "Aren't fevers used against infections? Maybe that has something to do with it."

A small hum passed her lips. Could that have something to do with it? It was possible that her healing abilities caused a fever in order to fight off any possible infection before it even became one. Maybe it was her body's way of lessening damage as much as possible since, as the day's events showed, the old replaced tissue had a tendency to get purged. She grimaced at the memory of slowly choking on blood and went for something at least slightly more pleasant.

"Oh and… I can't bleed out. Blood volume stays constant."

She looked up at Cassandra with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Her wife blinked, realization seeming to dawn on her together with the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She coughed.

"Yeah well. I'll keep that in mind. For when you don't need to sleep."

"And deny me some fun now?" Nicole's pout was purely for dramatic effect and it gained her an eye roll.

Two slender fingers gripped her chin to keep it in place while narrowed golden eyes bored into her green ones. The pout slowly morphed into a smirk. Cassandra was not the kind of person who did not indulge in her own pleasures and that, although to a more careful extent, included drinking her lover's blood. A fact that Nicole was not only not complaining about, but also learned to use in order to push all the right buttons.

When Nicole turned her head in the uncharacteristically gentle grip to plant a small kiss on the soft palm, Cassandra finally gave in. Concern was momentarily put on hold in the name of the normalcy they both have been denied in the last few weeks. She bent down, their lips meeting into a kiss that soon turned needy with tongue slipping past sharp teeth and a hand scratching lightly at her nape. Soon Cassandra broke their kiss, but only to slowly trail her way across her jawline with kisses and small nips. She bit at the soft skin right under the jaw bone, eliciting a quiet groan right by her sensitive ear. Black painted lips took her down the neck and across collarbones, planting a kiss right in between them, at the base of Nicole's throat.

When she slowly made her way to an exposed shoulder, Nicole's hand at the back of her head guided her further up, right above where her pulse was. After an inquisitive hum against her skin, she spoke quietly.

"Since blood loss isn't exactly a problem… no need to avoid the neck really."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to trust her wife. She placed a gentle kiss on the spot right above where blood was flowing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The same gentle kiss that was placed on the skin countless times before and that only Nicole had the privilege of experiencing.

Sharp fangs sunk into tender flesh, the warm blood invading Cassandra's mouth making her moan low in her throat. Being used to the feeling of the bite by now, Nicole simply closed her eyes with a sigh and let her body melt into Cassandra's arms. The familiar blissful ache was welcomed, even though, she noticed, it did not bring with it the lightheadedness she had grown accustomed to.

Although she wasn't aware of it, Cassandra was, in a way, a creature of habit. Every time she would drink her blood, her hand would come up to cup Nicole's cheek, thumb slowly tracing the jawline, right before she would pull her mouth away. Every time, without fail.

This time however, when that happened, Nicole kept her in place with the hand tangled in brunette hair, her voice coming out breathy when she spoke. "Go on."

Cassandra would never admit it, but her self control would always waver while feeding. Therefore, she didn't need much convincing, continuing to take mouthfuls of blood in between a satisfied groan. When she finally had her fill, she pulled back with a bashful look in her eyes. Concern quickly flashed on her face at the sight of the crimson mess on her wife's neck.

Nicole however, not wanting their moment to get ruined, took one of Cassandra's hands in her own and slowly placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. After that was done, and the downright ticklish sensation of skin patching itself subsided, she guided the fingers over the bloody skin.

"See? Healed," she whispered.

Cassandra gingerly traced her fingers over the spot, looking for no longer existing puncture marks. She smiled upon not finding them and turned to pull out a handkerchief from a small drawer of her nightstand. A ritual of sorts, one practiced more times than they cared to count over the years. Cassandra passed the white cloth over the skin, wiping away the crimson stains while her wife relaxed into the touch.

"Feeling good?" It was a remark meant to poke fun at how much Nicole seemed to enjoy herself, but the double meaning did not go unnoticed.

A smile tugged at Nicole's lips and she nodded.

In turn, Cassandra hummed. "You taste different." And, at her lover's furrowed brows and the slightest hint of alarm flashing in her eyes, she clarified. "Not bad. Just different. Slightly sweeter actually."

"Is that so," Nicole purred, the smile returning to her lips.

Cassandra discarded the cloth on the floor to be retrieved later and shifted both of them back down on the myriad of pillows.

"Yes. Now how about you get some sleep."

Nicole wasted no time in snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side. It would never cease to amaze her how Cassandra's presence could make her feel so at ease, as if nothing beyond the castle's walls existed. At that moment, she couldn't help but be grateful for her newfound ability, useful in far more ways than one.

She stretched slightly upwards, auburn hair like a small waterfall behind her.

"I love you," she whispered against cool ashy lips.

"I love you too," Cassandra replied, closing the almost nonexistent space between their mouths in a soft kiss.

It left behind a slight coppery taste on Nicole's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care, instead readjusting her legs to tangle comfortably around her wife's thigh.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #mother miranda #tw torture #to bargain for immortality

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sweetwolfcupcake · 3 years

Text

Allurement: The Invitation

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

(Y/N) frowned as soon as an envelope with a beautiful wax seal arrived early in the morning. It was an invitation pass for an exclusive event that was to be held the next day. But what had left her utterly surprised when she found her employer's name written on it along with her. (Y/N) was supposed to accompany Kim Namjoon to the event. She had no clue regarding the event, besides, Mr Kim had not even spoken to her regarding accompanying him in any such event. As if sensing her bafflement, her phone lit into light and began to ring- it was her employer. Not wasting another moment, she picked up the call-

"Good morning, Sir,"

"Good morning (Y/N), I believe you have received the invitation pass, I just received mine." his morning voice was a bit hoarse, felt deeper like rich, creamy chocolate that could melt her

"Yes, Sir, but I had no clue regarding this."

"Yes, yes, it was a sudden event, I need a date to accompany me and I was not prepared either, so I put your name, hope you do not mind, (Y/N). It's alright if you are busy I can change the name."

"No, Sir. I am not busy. Do not worry, I will be ready tomorrow. The pass has the address."

"Do not worry about it, I will come to pick you up. And I will send Jimin with a gown for tomorrow's event. See you tomorrow." with that, the call came to an end.

Her cheeks warmed slightly at his words. She knew that he had only chosen her because she was the quickest option, but that could not prevent her foolish heart from fluttering, especially when he was having a dress sent to her and was coming to pick her up himself. She would be a true fool to think that it was anything beyond a professional commitment. And that made her eyes sting slightly. But she knew that she needed to be practical. They were worlds apart after all, and she was supposed to never cross certain professional boundaries. And the best way to make her heart was to thrust the bitter truth upon it, again and again, until it accepted and was ready to move on.

-----

Jimin had arrived with a dress, it was the most beautiful evening gown she had ever set her eyes on, the material was soft to touch and it seemed to move with her, almost fluid, the full-length gown that covered her feet as well also came with a pair of delicate chiffon gloves.

"Oh, and he even had this sent, a masquerade mask." Jimin handed her a glass box that held the most elegant masquerade eye-mask she had ever seen, it looked so delicate, she was afraid to touch it, lest it would tear. It would not necessarily cover anything, it was shimmery and the material was almost transparent, but it would add to the effect.

"Are these...For me?" she was still stunned, struck by all the arrangements, it was apparent that the event was far bigger a deal than Mr Kim had let on.

"Of course not, Darling, these are for his girlfriend, he just wanted an inspection from his precious secretary." Jimin's obnoxiously sweet smile and words dripping with sarcasm had her rolling her eyes in annoyance

"I was just stunned, okay!" 'stunned' was perhaps a bit of an understatement, but the way Jimin casually mentioned 'girlfriend', left a pang in her heart. But then again, what else did she expect? Of course, a man like Kim Namjoon would not be single "And...What about his girlfriend?" she regretted the moment the words slipped past her lips before she could prevent them. Jimin's eyebrows shot up.

"What? Why do you care?"

"No, I don't care, I was just, curious. That's it." she was quick to cover up while busing herself with the gown and the accessories that came with it.

"Well, I don't know, maybe he does, he is Kim Namjoon after all. And if he does not, he might be having different girls on his lap every night." (Y/N) could not help the offended gasp at his words, landing a quick and hard smack over Jimin's arm "OW! What was that for?" she only scoffed and looked away, resuming the process of putting on the earrings, even though the once delicate, careful movements had turned aggressive. "What? What is it?"

"What? Nothing!" Jimin sized her up briefly before diverting his attention back on the accessories that he had been sent with.

"Wait, do not take off the earrings, he has also sent this pendant. And shoes." she froze in surprise and awe as Jimin produced the rest of the items from the bag. The shoes seemed too delicate to be of practical use "This...This will break."

"Nah, they won't. You can kick a metal ball with them. Look!" before she could grasp his intentions, he threw one of the glass shoes on the floor. She gasped, expecting it to shatter, but to her surprise, it remained intact, without a single scratch on its surface on inspection. While Jimin smirked smugly at her "Told you. Now come on, try on all these, if you face any problem with any of these, I have to inform Mr Kim, he will take care of it."

"Uh, okay, help me with the pendant and the shoes."

"Sure, sure Madame,"

-------

(Y/N) knew that Kim Namjoon was a perfectionist- but she had thought of so only in the professional front- as a person, he was rather a bit...Clumsy. The thought made her smile slightly. However, at the moment, when Jimin had ushered her to a high-end beauty parlour, or that was what one should call the place where two women were catering to her, she came to realise that Kim Namjoon was really a perfectionist, in every way possible. It was another story that he managed to mess things up himself more than often, but overall, with all the planning and vision,- he was every bit of the perfectionist and observant heir of the Kim Group of Companies that he was brought up and expected to be. An appointment had already been made and the payment, done. Her hair had been taken care of, turning it shiny and smoother than silk, her skin was cleansed and taken care of in a way that left her feeling pampered, especially with the manicured nails. (Y/N) came to realise, rather soon, that the event was meant for the high-profiles, the elites. And that made her doubt her boss' spontaneous decision to put her name on the list for accompanying him to the place.

But she did not have the chance to back off, it was too late already, Mr Kim had sent her the gown she was to wear, the accessories with it and she had already made her trip to the beauty parlour. And Sunday evening arrived with a blink of her eyes.

Jimin had helped her put everything on, making sure not even a strand of her hair was out of place, not even a thread of her attire haywire. And as she examined herself in the mirror, Jimin had left as soon as he was done, and she did not have the heart to stop him, his weekend had already been ruined because of an event she had no clue about other than the fact that she was required to look good and accompany her employer. Her phone dinged with a text and as expected, it was from Mr Kim, letting her know that he had arrived.

"Mom! I am leaving, please take care of yourself, dinner is in the kitchen, heat it before you eat?" she peeked into her mother's room,

"Okay, go now, do not keep him waiting. And you look beautiful." (Y/N) could not help the smile at the compliment before she hurried away, not wanting Mr Kim to wait for too long.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr @minshookie29 @sepulcry @omgsuperstarg @rkive-diary

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere namjoon #yandere rm #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere ceo namjoon #yandere rm x reader #yandere dom namjoon x innocent reader #yandere ceo namjoon x reader #yandere dom namjoon #allurement

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Fearless

Chapter 4: See the Lights, See the Party, the Ball Gowns

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

The girls spent their first morning in Cordonia with their respective sponsors, getting the first glimpses of courtly life and preparing for the Masquerade Ball taking place that evening. As much as they wanted to get out and experience all that this little Mediterranean country had to offer, there was just so much to do and little time to do it.

That morning, while Alyssa worked diligently on learning the steps of the Cordonian Waltz and etiquette with Rashad, Maxwell finally got Riley out of bed in time for a late breakfast. This included meeting his brother, Bertrand, who was none too thrilled with the former waitress from New York. Riley discovered rather quickly that the duke was nothing like the free-spirited Maxwell; if ever there was a picture display of a killjoy, she was sure his scowling face would be plastered dead in the center.

The day kind of went by in a dizzying blur, especially for Riley, who spent most of it either being lectured by Bertrand, or raiding the kitchen for stress snacks with Maxwell. And as far as anyone knew, Liam was still unaware that the quirky, raven-haired beauty he’d met two nights ago and never expected to see again was in his country, in his palace, and was about to come face-to-face with him.

If she didn’t die of anxiety first.

Neither of the girls saw each other until much later that afternoon when they linked up in Riley’s room before heading to the palace's salon for last-minute hair and nail appointments.

Later on in the boutique, Riley sucked in a deep breath and held in her stomach while Alyssa stood behind her, fighting to zip the back of the angel-themed costume she chose for the Masquerade Ball.

Actually, "chose" was a loose description in this case. The ensemble was one of the last two dresses in the palace's boutique, and Maxwell insisted Riley wear it instead of the more provocative red devil attire to make herself more appealing to the King and Queen. The Beaumont sponsee didn’t give two shits at that moment about impressing the monarchs; her major concern was how she would fit that size-four dress over her size-six body.

“What the hell did you eat, Ri? This zipper is not budging an inch," an out-of-breath Alyssa groaned as she attempted to pull the tight fabric closer together.

Steadying her feet firmly to the ground, a jostled-around Riley answered quietly, in a still manner, so as not to undo what little progress her friend had already made, "You know I'm a stress eater. I've experienced many emotions since we left yesterday, and food therapy helps. And your judgment is making me hungry again, so thank you for making it worse."

"I'm not judging you; I'm simply stating a fact: Your ass won’t fit in this dress."

Riley straightened up a little higher, hoping to thin her lean frame out more. "Well, it's gonna have to," she scoffed. "I can't be the only suitor at this ball without the proper attire."

Alyssa tugged harder in frustration. "You know, it might help if I could remove the price tag from the zipper."

"Perhaps." Riley sideways glanced at the two inattentive boutique cashiers before turning her head slightly over her shoulder to acknowledge her best friend in a hushed tone. "But then I wouldn't be able to return it in the morning. $700 for a damn dress is highway robbery, and I won't be a victim to this place's jacked-up prices." She glared back at the fashionably dressed women running the register and hollered out, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Shhhh!" Alyssa's face burned with embarrassment while she smiled sheepishly at the bewildered ladies. "Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You mean aside from the usual things that are wrong with me? I'm a nervous wreck, Lyss. Liam still doesn't know that I'm here. I'm about to go wine-and-dine with snobby rich people, while my socially awkward-o-meter is on red alert. And Maxwell's brother didn't like me. How am I supposed to impress Liam, the press, this council, and his parents when my own sponsor hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Alyssa replied. "Suck in your stomach a little more ... Rashad told me Duke Beaumont is high-strung and takes all this court business very seriously. If you ask me, give ‘The Brows’ some time. I know he'll love you. And Liam already does!" Alyssa stepped back in delight after tirelessly sliding the last bit of the zipper to the neckline. "Voila! I got it."

Riley stiffly turned toward the full-length mirror -- her insides feeling like they would pop right out of her -- and surveyed the finished product. "Not bad, not bad. A slight muffin top on the sides, and my ass cheeks are packed in tighter than my family around the dessert station at a buffet, but ... I think I can get by with it." Turning to face Alyssa, she lit up with anticipation. "Okay, now it's your turn."

Alyssa plucked the bright red dress off the rack and headed inside one of the many dressing rooms. A moment later, she emerged with a beaming smile on her face and held her arms out to the side to do a show-offish twirl. "So, how do I look?"

"Oh my god, Lyss!" Riley clapped excitedly. "You look so hot in that! That color of red really suits you too. Although, you might want to cover up the girls a little more; I've never seen your boobs look so huge."

"Wha --" Alyssa glanced down at her fully rounded chest, a substantial portion of which was spilling out over the top. She crossed her arms over her breasts in horror. "OH MY GOD! You're right: They're enormous in this thing. I can't go out there like this! They'll be stuffing dollar bills into my cleavage and begging for a lap dance!"

"Well, just ... try to tuck them in," Riley suggested, demonstrating her advice on herself. “You know, the way guys tuck in their junk.”

Alyssa shook her head adamantly, attempting to slide the top of the dress up higher. "I don't think that'll work. It's already extremely tight."

“That’s what he said,” Riley quipped with a snicker, much to the chagrin of her longtime friend, who simply blinked back. “Wow, not even a smile. Come on, Lyss, it’s not that hard.”

Alyssa grinned despite herself, “That’s what she said.”

Riley stepped closer, reaching out to grab a portion of the garment covering Alyssa's bosom, and declared, "Alright, If I can squeeze my fat ass into this dress, you can cram those giant melons into yours. So, get to pushin’, girl.”

-----------

After 10 minutes of stuffing uncooperative breasts into a gown, Alyssa and Riley stepped out of the boutique and made their way to the bottom of the main staircase outside of the ballroom, where Rashad and Maxwell were waiting eagerly for them.

A grim-faced Rashad approached the pair as they neared. “We were beginning to worry about you two. I hope you didn’t have any trouble.” He reached out and greeted Alyssa with a friendly kiss to the cheek as Riley made her way up to Maxwell, who did the same.

“No troubles,” Alyssa assured him, before staring down at her chest to make sure certain parts were still contained inside her dress. “Just some slight wardrobe issues that I think we’ve taken care of.”

Riley frowned, rubbing a soothing hand over her squeezed-in stomach. “Let’s just say we both feel like canned biscuits.”

“And I’m petrified of canned biscuits!” Alyssa shrieked, then spoke in a lower, punier voice in Rashad’s direction. “They make that popping sound that scares the hell out of me.” He nodded sympathetically at her admission, having no clue what canned biscuits were.

Maxwell let out a chuckle. “Either way, you both look awesome! Like two totally righteous peas in a pod and all that jazz.” He peeked over at Riley, who wasn’t appearing too sure of herself, or of anything for that matter, knowing she’d spent most of the day in a subtle panic. While she steadied her breath, he looped his arm through hers and leaned over. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to go in there like the boss you are and knock them all dead. I just know it.”

Riley swallowed thickly, “But Liam --”

“Will be over the moon with excitement to see you again. Do you think I’d go through all the trouble of trying to convince you, and then Alyssa, to come all the way here -- not to mention, facing my brother’s wrath -- if I didn’t believe Liam would want to see you again?” Riley half-shrugged, but Maxwell could tell by the little glimmer of hope he caught in her eyes and the slight curl at the corner of her plush pink lips that she knew it was true. “If he’s not happy about seeing you, I’ll book you on the first flight back to New York, and you can punch me in the gut or something. But I can tell you with certainty: No man goes out with a woman and keeps his friends up most of the night talking about how amazing she was if he doesn’t want to see her again.”

Riley could feel a tinge of pink color her cheeks and looked away for a brief moment, knowing he was right. She was about to see her prince again. Simply knowing how happy Liam was when they parted ways that night made her heart flutter. The blushing suitor peered back at the towering man on her arm and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Max.”

As they both stared straight ahead at the set of double doors where Alyssa was making her grand entrance into the ballroom with Rashad, Riley pointed out, “You realize if you had said all that stuff to me this morning and five bloated pounds ago, I wouldn’t have cried to you all day over pints of ice cream, half a sheet cake, and a bag of Mini Snickers?”

Lord Beaumont grinned without looking at her as the orchestral music inside erupted through the newly opened threshold that awaited their crossing. A gleam of anticipation glistened the cobalt hue of his eyes.”That’s our cue. Time to look alive, Twinkle Toes, it’s showtime.”

__________

It felt like a million pairs of eyes bore through Riley when the announcer spoke her name out to the guest in the ballroom. In reality, few paid much attention to the young woman dressed in pure white, from the feathery halo perched above her fancy swept-up hairdo to the tiny heels that sparkled like glittery specks of fairy dust on her feet.

As Maxwell ushered her proudly through the spectacular crowd adorned in the finest silks and chiffons, faces concealed behind extravagant masks similar to hers, and opulent table spreads of gold and crimson, Riley searched the four corners of the room for one particular set of the bluest eyes she’d ever encountered -- she had Liam’s memorized by heart. However, the only ones she recognized came from her smiling best friend, standing casually beside the Lord of Domvallier at the bar, keeping her word to watch out for her. With a subtle grin from Alyssa to convey she had her back, the whirlwind of fear and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed Riley quickly dissipated into thin air.

Baby steps.

While Maxwell and Riley headed to the center of the ballroom to meet up with Bertrand, across the way, Alyssa ordered a cranberry vodka from the bar. She was wearing red and needed a drink that matched perfectly with the fabric in case of accidental spillage. As the bartender poured her glass, she tore her vigilant gaze from Riley when Rashad’s cell rang. Seconds later, he covered his phone lightly with a palm and lowered it away from his ear to speak with her.

“This is my client in California. Will you be okay for a little bit while I take this out on the balcony?”

Alyssa nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Is there anything I should be doing while you’re gone?”

“Try mingling with the crowd. Get to know the other suitors. The best way to help Riley tonight is to get a feel for the competition. Figure out who you can potentially get on her side and who is going to cause her trouble.”

“With all due respect, this isn’t Survivor.”

Rashad grinned before excusing himself. “We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the social season.”

What is it with all the Debbie Downers here? He sounds just like -- Before she could finish that thought, a stroke of irony occurred when she caught the denim-clad Drake, standing out like a sore thumb, making his way up to the bar. She quickly spun around on the barstool and hovered over her freshly poured beverage.

Tapping the bar's woodgrain top, Drake called for, “The usual,” before plopping down on the stool next to her. His woodsy scent filled the air and wafted in her direction; she wondered if he’d even recognize her.

Pressing the rim of the glass to her lips to take the first nervous sip of her drink, she wondered why she even cared if he did.

Alyssa set the vodka cranberry down on a cocktail napkin at the same time Drake reached for his tumbler of whiskey. A brush of their hands caused them both to retreat away before he bowed his head respectfully to her.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Drake was quick to apologize. He never knew which stuck up nobles would have an issue with a commoner’s simple touch.

Alyssa lifted a brow and smirked in response. “So you do have manners?”

He’d recognize that wily voice anywhere. Grumbling, Drake responded. “Aww, hell! Pipsqueak? Is that you?”

“Hello, Sunshine.” She dimpled.

Drake shook his head. “I should have known. Of all the damn people in this room, I still managed to find you.”

“I would call that a very lucky day for you then.” Alyssa lifted her drink and tipped back a gulp. “So what’re you doing here? Don’t you have some royal cows or chickens to herd around or something? Who wears denim and jeans to a fancy ball?”

She would if she could get away with it.

His tight shoulder muscles bounced slightly with disingenuous laughter as his chestnut eyes took in her sultry devilish costume. “I could ask you the same about your own clothes. Suitors are supposed to dress up for these things. Not come as themselves.”

Offended, Alyssa arched back contemptuously. “Are you calling me a devil?”

“If the horns and pitchfork fit.” Drake retorted. He motioned with his glass across the room. “By the way, you see that blazing redhead who just stole your little friend away from Maxwell?” When Alyssa snapped her gaze protectively in that direction, he continued, “That’s Olivia. You might want to check in on … what’s her name again?”

“Riley ...” Her tone was resentful. He knows damn well what her name is.

“Whatever. Just trust me on this, if the two of you know what’s good for ya -- and I’m betting you don’t -- you’ll stay as far away from Olivia and the rest of these social-climbing fuckers as possible.” His mood suddenly shifted as he drained his drink, then slammed it on the bar top, motioning with his hand to the bartender for another.

Alyssa was quick to notice the tension in his jaw and the immense throb of protruding veins in his forearm as he nursed his drink. “What climbed up your ass and died? Why are you even here if you hate everyone so much?

He quickly snapped. “I’m here for Liam!”

“Well, I’m here for Riley!” The two of them glared at each other in a tense showdown that neither was willing to back down from. After a beat, Alyssa’s determination weakened somewhat; confrontations made her jittery.

And with him in particular.

Letting her shoulders slump, Alyssa let out a soft breath as she relaxed. “I’m trying to give her some space … but do I need to go check on Riley?” The question was asked sincerely.

Drake turned his head back, his vision crossing the vast expanse of the room and landing on a perturbed Riley in conversation with Olivia. He scowled, recognizing the expression impressed on her face all too well. “We’re outsiders, Alyssa. You. Me. Riley. That’s the only thing they’ll ever see. It’s the only way they’ll ever treat us.” He shifted to face Alyssa again. “Take that for what you will. If she were my friend … I would.”

_______

Riley shook her head emphatically. “There’s no way I’m supposed to kiss the king’s shoe. That’s weird, creepy, and-and- unsanitary!” She nodded toward a masked couple standing before the seated king who bowed, curtsied, and then exited to the left. “They didn’t kiss his shoe. I think you’re full of shit.”

“Riley, Riley, Riley.” The duchess shook her head with an exasperated tone. “Those people are well-established and highly-regarded members of the court … you’re not. And while I admit it’s a rather unorthodox Cordonian royal custom, it’s part of our tradition that the newest members humble themselves before the king in an act of deep respect and reverence. I’m actually astounded Maxwell never bothered to tell you.” She flipped back a thick curly-q strand of hair that hung over her shoulders. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

Riley hesitated. “I guess I’ll keep it in mind …?”

“Great!” Olivia wrapped a firm hand around Riley’s wrist and pulled her toward the throne where the king sat. “You’re so lucky that I was here to warn you! Otherwise, you’d have looked utterly ridiculous.”

“Wait! Where are we going? Riley demanded, her feet barely able to keep up with the brisk pace.

“To present you to King Constantine.”

“But I need to wait for my sponsor!” Riley protested. She struggled to break free, but the redhead’s clawlike grip was surprisingly strong.

“Every second counts, Riley. These women have all known Liam for years. The early bird gets the Crown.”

“But I --” Panicked, Riley scoured the room for the Beaumonts and found them standing near the hors d'oeuvres table embroiled in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

“What the fuck?” On the opposite side of the ballroom, Alyssa spotted Olivia hauling Riley across the floor. Before Drake had the chance to warn her this wasn’t good, an enraged Alyssa was already sliding down off the barstool, stampeding off in hot pursuit of finding out what this redheaded troll was doing with her best friend.

And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, feeling frustrated beyond comprehension, Drake followed right on her heels.

Coming to a screeching halt before the raised dais, Olivia thrust Riley forward, who nearly tripped from the momentum into the bottom step at the sudden stop.

It took every ounce of restraint Riley had not to turn toward the woman who had forcibly dragged her across the room and to stick a pair of size-seven heels straight up her ass. She, however, liked the pretty, sparkly shoes she had on too much to ruin them … and wanted to end the evening outside of a hospital bed. “Asshole,” she muttered almost soundlessly.

“Your Majesty,” Olivia smirked. “I would like to present to you the suitor House Beaumont has chosen. Lady Riley.”

Riley gave her a cursory glare. It was the moment of truth. She plastered on her best smile for the King, who regarded her with a nod.

Just … just do it. “Your Majesty.” Riley dipped into a low curtsy and held it in place for several seconds before contemplating the validity of Olivia’s outlandish claim and swallowing hard. “Here goes nothing.”

Placing both palms on the plush red carpeting that laid at the feet of the King, she lowered herself slowly until her knees rested on the top step.

“What the hell is she doing?” Alyssa questioned as she desperately weaved around a sea of faces, dodging server trays and tables along the way. “And where the hell is Maxwell?”

“I don’t know ...” Drake answered, practically pushing her even more quickly through the crowd, “ … but you better move faster. There’s no damn telling what Olivia told her to do.”

Riley paused briefly, staring at the simple black shoes that almost resembled a shiny boot. She wanted to be kissing Liam right now, not his father’s old fricking foot. Worst vacation ever.

Lowering her head gradually toward Constantine’s shoes, she scrunched up her face and reluctantly puckered up.

Out of nowhere, a body with the vigor of a wild stallion in full sprint barrelled into her side, sending Riley hurling across the dais and causing her to land face-down on the marbled floor below.

"What is the meaning of this?" An enraged Constantine bolted up, his ire focused on Alyssa, hunkered down on all fours at his feet, striving to catch her breath.

Maxwell and Bertrand heard the commotion and came rushing to Riley’s side when they realized it was her sprawled out and jerking on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," an apologetic Alyssa said as she reached up for the hand Drake was offering. The King's glare at her was nerve-wracking as he waited for an explanation -- until Drake stepped up in front of her, blocking her view of the incensed monarch. "I can explain."

"I hope you can, young lady." Constantine glowered, baffled as to why Drake Walker was still standing between them … and mirroring every movement she made. When she shifted, he shifted. When she moved her arm, he did the same. Was this some type of game?

“Uh … um.” Alyssa's mind raced with excuses. She couldn't very well tell him the truth and make Riley or herself look bad -- she was still a representative of Duchy Domvallier. There was only one thing she could think of to say as she whipped around Drake and pointed at him. "This man pushed me!"

Drake's body stiffened at her accusation. "The hell you talking about?"

She covered her eyes with a hand, pretending to sob. "I was on my way up here to pay my respects to you, sir, when this man ..." she paused to take in a fake stuttering breath, "... came out of nowhere and pushed me from behind. I tried to stop myself from running into anyone, but I couldn't. Too much momentum." Alyssa lowered her hand and stared at a wide-eyed Drake. "I’m just a small person, mister. Why would you do that? Why? What did I ever do to hurt you?"

"I never --"

"Drake?" The King eyed him sternly. "Is this true? Did you push this young woman?"

Drake’s defensive stance was no match for Alyssa’s pleading eyes, begging him to save her from this. “Please,” she mouthed.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I … I’m sorry, Sir. Lady Alyssa’s extremely long dress was dragging the floor and I stepped on it. When I lifted my foot off, she ... I don’t know … flung forward. I tried to grab her before she went flying, but she got away, and that must be why she thought I pushed her.” Drake lowered his gaze to Alyssa. “You really shouldn’t shop in the adult section, miss.”

“Is it possible you were mistaken, Lady ... Alyssa?”

She nodded. “Yes, that is surely possible,” she agreed in a rehearsed-sounding tone. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

“Well, then.” Constantine's contented glance drifted to Drake. “It’s good to know you didn’t push an innocent suitor on purpose, Drake. But just know this … I’ll be watching you.”

“Looking forward to it, sir. Thank you, sir.” Drake quickly bowed his head as Constantine returned to his seat to greet the next guest. He grabbed Alyssa’s elbow and rushed her off to the side of the dais.

-----------

Maxwell knelt beside a disheveled Riley, helping her rise to her feet and dusting her off.

“Lady Riley,” a scowling Bertrand glared, “what on earth is the meaning of this? The glory of House Beaumont is on the line tonight, and you’ve already made your first blunder. I told you, Maxwell, this was a mistake.”

Slightly dazed, Riley stumbled while massaging a sore wrist. Inclining her head so she could see him under the halo that drooped over her eyes, she retorted, “I was shoved, Berturd. It’s not like I did this on purpose. And thank you for your concern; I’m fine, by the way.”

“Shoved? By whom?” The three of them turned to see Alyssa and Drake scampering off to a corner. “It was Domvallier’s suitor?” Bertrand asked incredulously. “This is preposterous! It’s beneath Lord Rashad’s character to have his suitor and Drake Walker sabotage ours. I will have to go over there and put an end to this travesty at once.”

“NO!” Riley and Maxwell barked.

"Bertrand. Why don't you let Riley and I handle them while you play damage control with the King? Unless ..." he smirked. " You want me to smooth things over with His Majesty? I have a lot to say about how Twinkle Toes just SAILED through the air at warp speed --"

"Dear God, no, Maxwell! There will be no need for your … input. But, you two, get results from Drake and that suitor. No funny business," he warned.

The two of them nodded in understanding. As soon as Bertrand turned his back and marched away, they both gave a knowing glance to the other before rushing over to Drake and Alyssa, who had just made it to a far corner of the ballroom,

Alyssa yanked her elbow away from his vice-like grasp. “I believe we’re out of the clear; you can let go of me now.”

“Listen. I have to tell you something, ‘cause you need to know it ... “ Drake swallowed thickly, his rounded eyes focused squarely on the woman who’d just thrown him under the bus to King Constantine. He spoke as if he had something caught in his throat, “You--your-- uh -- ”

“And who made these damn shoes, anyway?” Alyssa complained as she hiked up the lower part of her dress and stepped out of her heels. Her already short stature lowered several inches. “They clearly hate short women and feet. Seriously, who thought walking around like a newborn calf was sexy?”

“Alyssa,” Drake tried again to speak through a strained voice, “You need to listen --”

“Hey!” Riley interrupted as she and Maxwell stepped up to them. “Why’d you push me off that stage thingy? And OH MY GOD, ALYSSA! YOUR --” Maxwell slapped a hand over Riley’s mouth, knowing exactly what her big mouth was getting ready to loudly announce.

Her frantic muffled words continued to blabber through his tightly clasped hand.

Alyssa gave him a confused look. “Maxwell, what are you doing?”

“Just stopping her before she told everyone within earshot ...” he paused fleetingly, lowering his gaze from the muddled expression on her face to her chest. “Your bosoms … well, they have emerged.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” a flustered Drake said as Alyssa let out a gasp and looked down. “You’ve been ... exposed … since --” He was quickly cut off again by her tiny wail as she fixed herself and dashed out of the ballroom, mortified, her arms crossed over her chest.

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

Riley tapped lightly on the women’s restroom door. “Lyss? You okay in there?”

“No!” Her pouty voice rang back. “I’m the laughingstock of this entire court.”

Maxwell chuckled, hollering back. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lady Alyssa. I’ve already got that title covered in spades.”

“You two need to get back to the ball,” Drake said gruffly, referring to the girls. “Liam will be arriving any minute.”

“You’re right. There are probably five people in there who still haven’t gotten an up close shot of my breasts.” Alyssa swung the door open, bitterly hitching up the front of her dress as she stepped out, and glared up at Drake as she walked by. “And you let me walk around like that!”

“I did not!” He flushed a deep, dark red. “I told you, that’s why I was standing in front of you, so no one would see … ugh, fuck it. Just -- let’s go, okay?”

A remorseful Riley hugged Alyssa. “I’m so sorry my dumb ass was what caused this to happen to you. Thank you for making sure I didn’t make a fool of myself.”

Alyssa squeezed tighter. “It was way better that it happened to me than you. We can definitely have a good laugh over this by the time I’m, like, 150.” When they let go of one another, she smiled at her friend. “Come on, we have a ball to get back to. And you have a prince to dazzle.”

“Oh, you guys go on ahead. I need a minute to straighten up.”

Drake, Alyssa, and Maxwell headed back inside while Riley spent a few minutes in the bathroom wiping away the dust off her dress and getting her hair back in order as best as she could. Plus, she just needed a moment to herself; it was the first time since she woke up that morning that someone wasn’t hovering over her shoulder or trying to impress someone. There also were some major jitters happening knowing the Prince was arriving at any second.

Stepping out a few minutes later, Riley headed back down the hallway, hopeful she still appeared as presentable as when she arrived earlier.

Dotted along the walls that trailed back to the ballroom were portraits and artwork of kings and queens. Judging by the large periwigs, justaucorps, and stockings over breeches depicted, obviously they were quite old. One particular painting caught her attention enough to halt her steps before she plastered on a naughty grin.

“Ohhhh, what do we have here?” Riley snickered, leaning in closer to get a better glimpse. “I see London, I see France, I see a very hung King without his pants.” She fanned a hand in front of her face and spoke as if she were Scarlett O’Hara herself. “My, my, my, Fabian, I haven’t seen a lot of those, but I do declare, you put all the Yanks I’ve been with to shame. I’d be remiss to not ask if you were generous enough to pass on certain sizable traits, say to … Oh, I don’t know, the current Crown Prince?”

“Frankly, my dear … I don’t think he gave a damn,” a deep voice quipped over her shoulder.

Riley spun around, her body crashing into the portrait and causing it to rattle against the wall and lean heavily. Her face burned red-hot as soon as she heard his voice, even though every ounce of blood in her body seemed to rush to her wobbly feet. Liam reached out, grasping hold of her arms to brace her as she stared back, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, at his half-masked face, smiling warmly. “L-L-Li --”

“My sincerest apologies if I startled you, my lady. Are you okay?”

Her throat was dry, and surely no one in all history had ever been as embarrassed as she was at that moment, but she managed to answer feebly, “I think … I pissed my pants.” They both looked down at the floor simultaneously, relief washing over them that there were no puddles. Riley closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Liam chuckled, his twinkling blue eyes glued to her flustered face. “You’re just as beautiful as you were that night in New York, Riley Brooks.”

“Wait … you know that it’s me? Are you surprised? Are you upset? Do you think I’m some creepy stalker now? I swear I’ve never even touched a weapon.”

“Really? What happened to your bag of Chinese throwing stars?” Liam teased lightheartedly. Riley tilted her head in confusion. “You remember, the ones you were going to throw at me in the alley outside of your bar --”

“Oh. Yes. Right,” she laughed awkwardly as the memory came to her. “Yeah, I may have embellished the truth there a bit. Twenty-pound hams seem to be more my weapon of choice.” Riley hung her head. Why the hell did I just tell him that? When Bastien cleared his throat and gave Liam a pointed look, Riley knew their time was short. “I know you have to go, but I just need to know something: How did you know I was here? Maxwell tried to get in touch with you and never heard back. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me showing up here.”

“I’ve been quite busy since leaving New York with preparations for the social season and the Masquerade kicking off this evening. But it was Drake who came pounding on my door this morning to fill me in. You can imagine my surprise when he told me that you were here, and, I quote, ‘brought her small aggressive friend with her as guard dog.’”

Riley smirked with a shrug. “Can ya blame a girl? I came to win. Besides, I really like you, Liam.”

He smiled. “I really like you too, Riley. But this isn’t New York. As much as I wish we could just pick up where we left off two nights ago, this entire series of events is set up not just to give me time with my potential matches, but also to give my parents, the Council, and the people of Cordonia time to get to know the future queen. From now on, everyone will be watching you and ... Lady Alyssa.” Liam paused to chuckle and shake his head in amusement. “You actually got your friend to pose as a fake suitor and somehow convinced an honorable and highly dignified member of the court to sponsor her?”

“Yeaaaah, I still don’t know how the hell I did that. I should get extra points for my manipulation skills”

Liam laughed. "I believe you mean, negotiation skills."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, those too."

Already well past the time to make his grand entrance, Bastien approached Liam to give the final warning. Liam acknowledged him and turned back to Riley. “I hope I’ll see you again later tonight, if you’ll save a dance for me. But until then …” He pressed her willing body against the wall, tracing the back of his forefinger along her velvety cheek. “ … just know how very, very, happy I am to have you here, Riley.” His lips were fire and ice when he leaned down to meet her equally fevered ones in a lingering kiss. And she melted right into him.

With that, Liam was whisked away by the head guard and made his way into the ballroom. As a panting Riley brushed her fingertips over the tingling in her bottom lip, she felt so many things all at once: relief that he was happy she was there and already knew everything regarding Alyssa, and that same exhilarating bliss that swept her off her feet two days ago when they shared their time together. But he was abundantly clear, this wasn’t New York anymore, and he still had a duty and obligation to Cordonia regardless of his apparent feelings for her.

Riley let a puff of air and pushed her backside off the wall to return inside. Just as she did this, the crooked frame bearing the likeness of the late King Fabian she admired earlier fell from its hook and crashed to the floor, causing the ancient glass to shatter beside her. With her head shrunken into her shoulders, Riley slowly peeked out one eye and saw the damage. Glancing down one end of the hall to the other to see if anyone saw her, she glanced down at the shards and still fully intact artwork. Normally she would have hightailed it out of there, but she couldn’t help herself from giving her destruction parting words.

“I guess you’re not … hung anymore.”

Then she bolted the hell out of there.

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

Fearless tags: @dcbbw @ao719 @texaskitten30 @janezillow @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @amandablink @choiceskatie @annekebbphotography @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @pink-diamond13 @tinkie1973 @queenrileyrose @zaffrenotes @no-one-u-know @sammie0220 @shanzay44 @yourmajesty09 @bitchloveskcbaseball @kat-tia801 @openheart12 @drakeandkatherine @marshmallowsandfire @masterofbluff @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @msjr0119 @hopelessromanticmonie @sanchita012 @gabesmommie1130 @charlotteg234 @jessiembruno @debramcg1106 @neotericthemis @iaminlovewithtrr @sweetest-marbear @darley1101 @choicesstan650 @shewillreadyou @emkay512 @txemrn @lucy-268 @axwalker @busywoman

#fearless #drake x mc #liam x mc #drake walker #king liam #prince liam #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #liam x riley #drake x alyssa

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yazthebookish · 3 years

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☀️ Elain of Spring and Sunlight 🌷

I find it very interesting the emphasis on Elain's need of sunlight and her love of Spring in the books.

Some readers seem to dismiss all of these hints and clues, but Sarah put them there for a purpose. I think you'll have a better idea if I shared all the quotes that highlight all of this.

This is not to say that I ship Elain with Tamlin, I find the ship abhorrent because of everything that went down with Tamlin and Feyre. I'm not a fan of Elain but I wouldn't push her at Tamlin of all people. This is more about her connection to Spring.

That being said, let's have a look:

“frowning at the violets and roses I’d painted around the knobs of Elain’s drawer,” - ACOTAR, pg. 14

< There's a lot of symbolism represented for each sister on each drawer and what Feyre painted for them.

“See my world—hear it, smell it.” -- “There was no tangy metallic stench—no, the smell of magic had become like jasmine, like lilac, like roses.” - ACOTAR, pg. 209.

< Elain's scent is described to be of Jasmine and Honey. Coincidentally, all 3 elements described here for the Spring Court's smell are connected to her.

“Spring, as always, was in full bloom, the breeze laden with lilac, the brush flanking the path rustling with life.” - ACOMAF, pg. 26.

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises.” - ACOMAF, pg. 487.

“Every curtain shoved back as far as it could go, to let in as much sun as possible. As if any bit of darkness was abhorrent. As if to chase it away. And seated in a small chair before the sunniest of the windows, her back to us, was Elain.” - ACOWAR, pg. 154.

< Elain loves the sunlight.

“What can I get you, Elain?” Only with Elain did she use that voice. But Elain shook her head once more. “Sunshine.” - ACOWAR, pg. 302

< again, sunlight.

“Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.” - ACOWAR, pg. 257.

< emphasis on the oddness and the contrast between the Night Court attire and the lovely garden.

“The sun was mild, the day clear, distant dogwoods and lilacs still in eternal bloom.” - ACOFAS, pg. 87

< another description of the Spring Court.

“Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further.” - ACOSF, pg. 281.

“Breathing in the heady, sweet scent of the purple lilac bush blooming behind them, Nesta glanced sidelong at Cassian.” - ACOSF, pg. 454.

“Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green—the light, vibrant green of new grass—so many birds singing and such warm, buttery sunshine. Nesta felt like a storm cloud standing amid it all. But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her.” - ACOSF, pg. 454.

< here is the emphasis, again, on Elain and her connection to Spring.

“His fingers traced the twining vines of flowers on the second drawer. “Elain’s drawer.” They drifted lower, curling over a lick of flame. “And yours.” - ACOSF, pg. 563

< the famous drawer makes an appearance once again.

“Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face.” -- “He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.” - ACOSF, pg. 580.

< this here is a BIG statement. Elain does not thrive in the Night Court. She is so at odds with the place that even Cassian notes how much the dark sucks the life out of her. It may be Cassian's opinion, but this is Sarah sending a message and she does not do things randomly. Queen of Foreshadowing, remember?

Another interesting thing to add is Elain's clothes, shades of purple had been the dominant color of her clothing:

“I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown.” - ACOFAS, pg. 174.

“From the edge of my vision, purple and gold flashed—Elain.” - ACOFAS, pg. 180.

“Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown” - ACOSF, pg. 201.

“Elain headed for the doors, purple dress sweeping behind her.” - ACOSF, pg. 206.

“Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet,” - ACOSF, pg. 595.

“Crafted with emeralds, sapphires, and amethyst, the gold had been molded into a wreath of spring’s first flowers.” - ACOMAF, pg. 90.

< The Spring Court's crown is adorned in these colors and this may be a bit far-fetched but most of these colors are associated with Elain. It may support the theory of her becoming the High Lady of the Spring Court.

The shades of purple can also be tied to the fact that purple lilacs are the dominant flowers in the Spring Court. It's the dominant scent when the Spring's breeze is described. Not only that but when Feyre smells the Spring's real scent for the first time, she smells lilacs, jasmine which is part of Elain's scent and roses, what Feyre had drawn for her on the drawer.

If the canon text proves anything, it proves that Elain does not belong in the Night Court. Elain thrives under the sunlight, in a vibrant place and surrounded by beauty. The Night Court is dark and brutal despite the loveliness of Velaris, that Court is not her place. For a person like Elain whom wanted to travel the continent and seek out the knowledge of different flower species, I'd doubt she'll settle for staying cloistered in Velaris.

I do not believe that since the first book and the following 4 books and a novella, connecting Elain to all of these elements was done randomly. It's too much to be a coincidence or something said in passing. Especially if Sarah reinforces it in ACOSF which was released recently.

Aside from Spring, Elain is associated with sunlight. She loves the sun, she's drawn to it. Who else we know is described to be the personification of the Sun? Helion Spell-Cleaver☀️ High Lord of the Day Court. He is the biological father to Lucien, Elain's mate, whose name also means "Light" and he is one of the most prominent characters who is connected to the Spring Court, his former home.

If you're an avid reader of Sarah's books, you know that when she highlights something you keep note of it. This is an example of when she highlights a character's oddity in the environment they are placed in (E.g. Feyre in the Spring Court vs Feyre in the Night Court + Nesta wearing black in the Hewn City looking like a Queen + Black sucking the life out of Elain while violet brings back her vibrancy).

I think I would like to see Elain exist in a setting where the IC have little involvement in it. There are traits in her that has nothing to do with her femininity that makes it hard for me to like her and at the same time it annoys me how much the IC coddle her. It's also my frustration at seeing her do almost nothing since ACOWAR. I'm pretty sure something is going on with her behind the scenes but that's not enough to get me excited for her journey because I haven't seen anything yet. I didn't like Nesta before ACOSF and now I adore her, SJM can easily persuade me to warm up to a character however it'll take me until Elain's book is out to change my dislike towards her whether it's Book 5 or Book 6.

But it's very interesting to note all these connections to Elain because without a doubt they prove how at odds she is at the Night Court and Sarah seems to love to use "found family" trope for each of the sisters (Feyre's IC and Nesta's Valkyries) so it's safe to assume that Elain may have her own found family where she can be her true self just like her sisters, a found family that does not coddle her and I do think her found family may likely be the Band of Exiles since they possibly connect to her plot (Vassa = Firebird). Let's also not forget that Elain was the closest to their father, Lucien, Vassa and Jurian all met and traveled with him. I do think Elain may form a friendship with Vassa.

I also want to add that Elain is a separate entity from Feyre and Nesta's circles:

Here is what Feyre says in her POV: “Elain and I had grown closer since the war with Hybern had ended. True, I might never go out drinking with her the way I did with Mor, and sometimes Amren, but . . . well, with a baby coming, I couldn't drink, anyway. And while I might never run to Elain first with problems for advice, we had a peaceful, amicable understanding. I found her to be a pleasant companion.”

While Nesta and the Valkyries has their own dynamic and Elain isn't acquainted with them and wouldn't fit in anyways.

So, who are Elain's friends in the Night Court except for Cerridwen and Nuala whom are her appointed companions just like they were with Feyre. Don't get me wrong, she adores them and treats them as friends but she did not find her "found family" like her sisters did. To Feyre, she's a pleasant companion but they're different and Feyre would rather spend time with Mor and Amren while Nesta has Gwyn and Emerie.

I guess that is all for now!

#acosf #acosf spoilers #elain archeron

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pianomanblaine · 3 years

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Down Once More

This story was written for the Potober prompts “Down Once More” and “And Now, How You Betray Me”, particularly with the words “taken hostage” and “betrayal” in mind. It resulted in an alternative version of the final lair. Fair warning: this one does not have a happy ending.

AO3 FFN

He dragged her along the dark and damp corridors beneath the opera house at a frantic pace, his grip on her arm harsh and unrelenting, not even sparing her a backward glance as she stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with him. Her head was still reeling from the events leading up to this moment. It had all happened so fast, yet here and now, time seemed to lose all meaning. Every separate moment seemed to fade into the next one, forming one big hazy blur. It might have been several hours or merely a few minutes before they reached the shore of the underground lake and Erik was steering the little boat across the water towards his house.

Once inside, he pushed her into the bedroom which she had come to think of as hers, and roughly thrust the wedding dress he had so painstakingly crafted for her into her arms. He did not leave the room, did not even turn around to give her the smallest bit of privacy as he forced her to change into it. He immediately started yanking at the fastenings of the dress she was wearing, undressing her with great urgency, letting the garment pool around her feet, and for a moment she feared that he had gone completely mad and would try to violate her. But he only barked out an order for her to put on the wedding gown as he began to agitatedly pace the floor, only occasionally glancing in her direction while she got dressed again.

When she was finished, Erik retrieved a veil – she did not see where from, he might as well have pulled it out of thin air – and forcefully pushed it onto her head. Under any other circumstances, she might have been able to appreciate how delicate and beautiful it was, with its wreath of white and pale pink flowers that contrasted so nicely against her dark brown hair. It hardly weighed anything, but to Christine it felt incredibly heavy, carrying with it the full weight of Erik’s expectations.

Now that her wedding attire was complete, Erik finally stood still long enough to fully look at her. She wondered if he was happy with what he saw. He must have imagined her in that very dress so many times. Was he satisfied now that he had what he wanted, even knowing that it was against her will? Was it all really worth it?

Before she got the chance to ask him, he turned his back on her and walked away without saying a word. She followed him into the sitting room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, its warm glow a striking contrast to the icy atmosphere in the room.

“So what now?” Christine asked, breaking the tense silence between them. “Are you planning to keep me hostage here, hoping I will suddenly change my mind and agree to marry you after all? Or will you just drag me in front of a priest and threaten me until I say ‘I do’?”

“This is not exactly how I had imagined it to go either, Christine,” he snapped as he stood by the fire with his back turned towards her. “I had a plan, and it would have worked if your precious little Vicomte didn’t have to ruin it all.”

“Raoul was only trying to protect me.”

“And look where his protection got you,” Erik sneered, turning to face her with a grotesque grin on his bare face as he gestured around the room, “in the Phantom’s lair, captured by the madman!”

“I never believed you to be mad, Erik,” she replied, “but I have come to understand how dangerous you can be.”

Christine’s heart twisted painfully as she recalled the early days of their acquaintance, when she still believed he was the Angel of Music. How kind he had always been to her, how gently he had treated her. But that had changed drastically when she learned of his deception and discovered his true identity. He had continued to act as her tutor, coaxing her voice to unknown heights, and although he was never harsh or violent towards her, he had grown defensive and suspicious, always on his guard around her, as if he could not believe that she could still feel any genuine kindness towards him now that she had seen his face.

“Well yes, I suppose I am like a wild animal in that regard. When feeling threatened, I can be extremely dangerous indeed,” Erik agreed. He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, his tall frame towering over her. He seemed to be challenging her, daring her to look at the face of the monster.

“Should I be afraid then?” she asked, rising to the challenge and looking straight into his strange yellow eyes.

At first he merely seemed surprised, maybe even impressed, by her bravery as she stood her ground and faced him without flinching, but by the way his face fell only a moment later, she could tell when the meaning of her words hit him. He turned away as he spoke.

“Of course not. I never meant for you to be scared of me. I never intended you any harm.” He took a few steps back, as if to prove his point, as if he hoped to seem less threatening if he stood a little further away from her.

“Kidnapping me is a strange way of showing it,” Christine huffed.

His posture stiffened at the accusation. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice, did you?” he said through clenched teeth. “You betrayed me!”

“I betrayed you?” she gasped in disbelief, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Do you want to talk about betrayal, Erik? Do you want to discuss how you lied to me for years, pretending to be an angel sent by my dead father to watch over me? How you blackmailed the managers into doing your bidding, how you terrorized Carlotta and God knows how many others?”

“Don’t you understand? I did it all for you! Because I love you!” he roared.

“Don’t you dare blame this all on me! You killed two innocent people, Erik! How does that have anything to do with love?”

“Buquet was not innocent,” he snorted. “He was a vile lecher, a pervert preying on young defenceless ballerinas in the dark behind the stage. He got what was coming to him.”

The man was certainly no saint, Erik was right about that and Christine knew it, but how could he not see that that did not justify his murder? Even so, she might have been able to forgive him for it eventually, if it had not been for Piangi.

“Piangi never hurt anyone.”

“Piangi was in the way!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to kill him, merely to incapacitate him long enough to take his place on the stage, but I ran out of time and I became careless. He was the only thing standing between us and I was not about to let him ruin my plan, no matter the cost.”

“You are delusional if you truly believe he was the only obstacle standing in your way. What did you expect to happen tonight, Erik? You would take Piangi’s place, sing with me in an opera of your own creation in front of a full theatre, and then what? I’d fall into your arms and we’d live happily ever after?” She tore the veil out of her hair in frustration, throwing it at his feet. If he thought that after all the times he had tried to force her hand, had tried to manipulate her into choosing him, she would now willingly become his bride, he was sorely mistaken.

“I cannot deny the truth of that, although it now becomes painfully clear how foolish I was to entertain such hopes.” Although his words seemed to imply that he blamed himself for having such unrealistic expectations, the glare he directed at Christine made it clear that he also faulted her for his disappointment. “I was ready to lay my heart at your feet tonight, Christine, and how did you repay me? By tearing off my mask and revealing my monstrous shame for all of Paris to see! I trusted you!”

His angry shouting turned into a sob of betrayal and despair, and for the briefest of moments, Christine’s anger was overshadowed by compassion for the man in front of her. She was well aware of how badly she must have hurt him by doing what she did, but she had no other options. If she hadn’t done something drastic that would enrage him enough to take action, the gendarmes waiting behind the stage would have closed in on him and captured him, or worse.

Raoul must have thought she was in her dressing room or somewhere else out of earshot as he gave his instructions to shoot Erik when the time came, but she had been too nervous to sit still for long, choosing instead to wander the hallways and eventually finding her way behind the stage, pacing back and forth in the dark as she waited for the inevitable tragedy of the night to unfold. She had heard every word. If she hadn’t acted when she did, Erik might have been dead by now.

“I understand that my actions hurt you too, Erik, truly, I do, but you gave me no choice. Can’t you see it was wrong to pin all your hopes and dreams on me? You’ve told me you love me, and I believe that in your own way you really do, but I cannot be held responsible for your feelings, Erik. I do not owe you anything simply because you love me.”

At the crestfallen, heartbroken look on his face, she almost went to him, almost closed the distance between them and embraced him in a futile attempt to offer him some comfort, a silent apology for having shattered his dreams in a few sentences. Almost. Whatever she had to offer him, it would not be enough now. He would always want what she could not give him.

“I know that I cannot make you love me,” Erik began after a long, heavy silence. “God knows I have tried long enough.” His voice sounded softer now, his bitter and accusatory tone completely gone. “But do you not care for me even a little bit? That could be enough for me. We could start over somewhere new, where no one knows who we are. I could still tutor you and you could still sing.” He was pleading now, with his eyes as well as his words, hoping against all odds that he could still convince her to share her future with him.

“I would expect nothing from you, Christine. I’d do anything to make you happy, I’d give you anything you want. You would only have to ask and it would be yours, and you would not have to do anything in return other than stay by my side. Dammit Christine, I am beyond pride. I’ll fall to my knees and beg if I must. Stay with me. Please.”

And for a moment, Christine was truly tempted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. She did care for him, how could she not? Despite everything, he was still her Angel of Music. She could not deny he had been an integral part of her life since the first moment she met him. Erik had been her sole companion during those terrifying first few years after her father’s passing. Through music he had brought her soul back to life. The connection between them was irrefutable, and she could hardly imagine a world where she would never see him again.

Yet she knew that what he asked of her was impossible. Even if he claimed that he had no expectations from her, she knew that he would never be truly happy until she returned his affections, that he would always continue to hope, and she could not bear to disappoint him. Besides, she already had a fiancé. Raoul. Her childhood sweetheart. Sweet, protective, kind-hearted Raoul, who was probably trying desperately to find a way to save her, even if he had to risk his own life to do so, at this very moment.

Where Erik’s love for her was obsessive and at times almost frightening, being with Raoul would be as easy as breathing. He might not be able to give her a life of music, but she would be safe and cared for. She would not want for anything, and unlike Erik, Raoul was not a wanted man. Choosing a life on the run with Erik over a comfortable and uncomplicated one with Raoul might be romantic, but it would also be foolish.

“I do care for you Erik,” she finally replied, “but I cannot stay.”

He did not try to convince her after that. He merely nodded in resignation, as if he had always known this would be the final outcome.

“Go then,” he said. “You can choose a change of clothes from the wardrobe in your – in the spare room. You would draw too much unwanted attention if you returned dressed the way you are now.”

Christine wondered if that was his true reasoning, or if he simply wanted to keep the wedding dress as a memento to torment himself with.

She obeyed his instructions for the last time, selecting a simple yet elegant dark blue day dress out of the assortment of clothes Erik had kept on hand for her since the first time she had spent the night in his home.

When she re-entered the sitting room to say her final goodbyes, Erik was kneeling on the floor, desperately clutching the veil she had so carelessly discarded earlier, a look of terrible sorrow etched across his distorted face. He brought the fabric to his misshapen nose, trying to inhale the little bit of her perfume that might cling to it.

His eyes flew open and he looked up at her in surprise when he heard her footsteps. He clearly had not expected her to come back.

Erik stood up slowly, wiping invisible dust from his trousers, straightening his jacket, as if after all that had transpired, it was still of the utmost importance that he look presentable to her. Maybe his habit of dressing so nicely was an attempt to compensate for the imperfection of his face, she suddenly realized.

A tentative smile formed on his lips as he watched her, silently waiting for whatever last scrap of kindness she would offer him before stepping out of his life for good. Christine could almost feel her heart breaking as she removed the ring he had thrust on her finger earlier that night, holding it out towards him. The ring was supposed to be a promise, a physical sign that their lives would forever be entwined. It did not feel right to keep it.

Erik’s smile disappeared as he reached for the ring, holding her hand in his for a moment while he looked into her eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. She gave a minute shake of her head before letting go of the ring and withdrawing her hand, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

Christine did not say goodbye, her voice unable to get the word out. She turned around and walked away, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other until she had reached the door. If she did not leave now, she never would, and she knew she had to.

At the door, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. One last glance at the man who had taught her voice to soar. He was still watching her, and when he noticed her looking at him he nodded once, as if to say: “It’s alright. Go. I understand.”

Trying to keep her tears at bay, she stepped over the threshold and made her way to the jetty, where the boat lay waiting for her. She knew she was making the right decision by leaving. But then why did it feel as if she was leaving a part of her heart behind?

As Christine steered the boat to the other side and removed herself from his life forever, Erik’s almost inhuman scream of loss and despair echoed across the underground lake. It was a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days.

#potober #potober 2021 #phantom of the opera #poto fanfiction #poto fanfic #phanfiction #phanfic #eline writes #my writing

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lorelylantana · 3 years

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A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 2: Engagement

Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: G

Ava Vanguard was surprised to see Link return to Hateno a full month ahead of schedule. She was a bit disappointed when she read that her husband and son would assist in clearing the damage of Calamity and it would be some time before she could see her family again, but the relief that they survived was enough to keep her content. News that her family still stood was all she could ask for as a military wife and mother. She was just sitting down to lunch when none other than her son walked through the door.

Link seemed well, better than she’d ever seen him, in fact. He was dressed smartly in boots she recognized as standard issue for the Royal Guard and the Champion’s tunic he was so fond of. Ava was a bit perplexed at the circlet gleaming on his forehead, but shrugged it off. After slaying Calamity, her son no doubt received gifts of all kinds. Link carried a garment bag in his hands, which he hung on the hook by the door before hugging her tight.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Let me look at you,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She was glad to see a quiet joy in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since he drew the sword that hung over his shoulder. It made her happy to see bits of the son return to her after he walled himself off. “Tell me everything.”

Link managed to explain the story of Calamity’s downfall between bites of their split lunch, which is how Ava knew he was nervous. Now that Calamity was soundly defeated, there were very few things that Ava could think of that would cause such reticence.

Did her son find a significant other? Had he come to ask for permission to bring someone home?

“You're earlier than expected,” she prompted, gauging her son’s reaction, “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?”

Link cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I’m engaged.”

Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Ava gasped, “I had no idea you found someone special! You should have written!”

“It was really sudden,” he admitted, “Honestly, I’m still shocked she said yes.”

Ava laughed, made euphoric by relief. She was aware of and lost countless night’s sleep over the walls her boy had put around himself. Her heart broke to see that forced apathy in his eyes. Yet here he stood, joy written in every line of his face, no sign of restraint in sight.

It was a shame she couldn’t stop to admire it, as not a moment later her son straightened.

“I have to go, the wedding planning’s been keeping me busy. I thought I would invite you to the engagement feast personally, but I have to be getting back,” he nodded toward the garment bag, “I thought you could wear that to the banquet. A tailor in the castle can alter it if it doesn’t fit.”

With a hug and a kiss to his forehead, Link was gone. Vanished out the door, and once again she was alone.

For a moment, a bittersweet moment, she was still. Her little boy had grown up, and she didn’t get to see it. Still, the melancholy thought was drowned out with the elation that came with the knowledge that her son, amid the chaos, found a safe harbor to bare his soul to.

Ava shook her head and moved to the garment bag. She had a nice dress, so she didn’t know why he gave her a new one.

At least, that’s what she thought before she opened the bag.

She had never touched a fabric so fine. Her fingers glided over deep velvet and silk, gazing in awe at the gold detailing along the sleeves. A dress fit for royalty.

Ava smiled to herself. Her son was always such a sweet boy, though perhaps she should scold him. There was no need to spend so much money on her.

It’s not like she could wear such nice clothes very often.

Captain James Vanguard wasn’t really surprised when he received an invitation to a banquet and instructions to wear his dress uniform. He’d been expecting it. His son was the Hero of Hyrule, of course he’d be invited to the victory celebration. He was taken a bit off guard when the footman informed him that said celebration would be held that very evening, but James Vanguard was a soldier through and through. It took him a quick thirty minutes to change out of his armor, scrub the day’s grime from his body, and slip into the red and blue suit that had been issued upon his knighthood and he was ready for the grand occasion.

Despite his quick response time, the party was already in full swing when James entered the Sanctum, lit up by blue flame, giving the ancient hall an ethereal glow that was at once new and old. For a moment he was silent, letting the fact that they were at peace sink in at long last. Perhaps now he could retire without the guilt of letting his country down. Spend his days holding his wife instead of just thinking of her.

The King’s approach snapped him out of his reverie. James bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“Good evening, Captain! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the occasion. More than I expected, to be frank.”

The King threw his head back and laughed, “I can imagine. You must be proud of your boy, hm?”

“Of course. He’s exceeded every hope I had for him. That said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for him.”

James had lost many nights’ sleep thinking of how his little boy seemed to curl under the weight of his destiny. In his more fanciful thoughts, he’d believe that the burden would be lifted, but his years as a soldier had taught him that it wouldn’t be so simple.

He knew that the physical scars were the easiest to overcome.

King Rhoam hummed, “I can imagine, but I’m sure our children will pull through. We’ll be there to advise them after all.”

And with that, the King was gone, off to speak with the other guests. James shook his head. This was a happy time, and he was told Ava was here. His energy should be spent towards finding his wife.

Ava looked around, completely unprepared for the grand scale of the celebration before her. She was told her husband would be in attendance as well, so she searched for him, feeling like a fish out of water.

“Mrs. Vanguard, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!”

Ava turned to see none other than Princess Zelda herself, walking towards her in a fluttering violet gown the exact same shade of the coat her son now wore. The Champions likely coordinated their attire. Ava hurried to curtsy the best she could, but the Princess merely waved a hand.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please. I’ve been eager to finally speak with you. You must be so proud of Link, I certainly am.

Ava blinked, pleasantly surprised that the Princess held her son in such high regard. Eager as she was to finally discover who her son’s bride was, Ava wasn’t about to refuse a request from the Golden Princess, so she talked for hours about her favorite moments of Link’s childhood.

“You must tell me what Link was like as a child, and spare no details!”

Ava wasn’t about to deny a chance to relay some of her fondest memories, especially at the princess’ request. They talked for what seemed like hours. She wasted no time telling the Princess about Link’s childhood escapades. She was just about to explain how five year old Link rode a bear through the village street in nothing but shorts when Princess Zelda was called away for a speech.

Ava sighed, alone once again. Perhaps she could spot her son in the crowd?

“Ava!”

She turned, a smile growing on her face and her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She kissed him, alight with affection and relief at seeing James and feeling his beating heart against her chest.

The war really was over.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too.”

As blissful as the moment was, it was cut short by the King addressing the crowd.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening. I can’t think of a better way to mark the end of the Calamity’s reign than with an engagement, and so we gather to-”

Confused, James leaned into his wife’s ear.

“Who’s getting married? Anyone we know?”

Ava turned to look at him with that expression she wore whenever he said something stupid, which he thought was unwarranted for once given the situation.

“It’s Link, James.”

“What?”

“What did you think this party was for? It’s to celebrate Link’s engagement!”

“His what?”

“Our son is getting married,” Ava said, “Since he’s one of the Champions, the royal family was kind enough to celebrate with him.”

Vanguard was reeling, “Who’s he getting married to?”

Ava tutted, “He didn’t mention her name, I was going to ask him tonight, but Princess Zelda wanted to talk and I’ve been sidetracked all evening. She really is such a lovely girl.”

Before he could ponder this revelation further, King Rhoam commanded the room’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for celebrating this wonderful occasion with us. After such dark times, it gives me great joy to hold this feast in anticipation of a union I have no doubt has the support of all Hyrule-”

As the king spoke, the Captain scanned the Sanctum, trying to spot his son’s mystery bride. Could it be Mipha, they had spent some time together as children, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it grew to something more. James thought better of it as soon as he spotted the Zora in question. She was beautiful, dressed in her Champion blue, but there was an air of melancholy about her that was impossible to ignore. Captain Vanguard hoped his future daughter in law wouldn’t look so forlorn at the engagement party.

“-and now, without further ado, I ask that you all join in as we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my dear daughter, Zelda Lana Hyrule, and her loyal Champion, Link Vanguard!”

Wait a minute.

His son’s name was Link Vanguard.

Captain Vanguard blinked as the room erupted with applause, looking up to the man standing beside the Princess and king.

Well, there he was, standing where the Princess’ fiance was supposed to be with his arm linked with. Before he could process the implications of these observations, a butler came by to guide James and his wife to a private banquet hall. They sat down next to each other and were told to wait. It was strange, to be sitting at a table he’d spent countless hours guarding. James shifted in his seat.

“To clarify,” James began, “Our son’s going to marry Princess Zelda?”

Ava nodded, “I think so,”

Link and Zelda walked smiling through the door, and the room descended into chaos.

#Zelink #zelda #botw zelda #aoc zelink #botw link #botw zelink #fanfic #A Blindsided Engagement #LantanaLore

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