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ceilidho · 4 months

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prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you.

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake.

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble.

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand.

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock.

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs.

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.”

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back.

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip.

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him.

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area.

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him.

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong.

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you.

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream.

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you.

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad.

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck.

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you.

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin.

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head.

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand.

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue.

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?”

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

#i cant believe this shit is at 10k and i still have another part to write #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap

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hisunshiine · 2 months

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—revelations under the moon

🌙 pairing: alpha!namjoon x omega!reader 🌙 au/genre: ABO au, fated mates au, angst, smut 🌙 series rating: M 🌙 wc: 9,468 🌙 series warnings: mentions of an off-screen character death (barely a character tbh), brief male masturbation, thoughts of 'cheating' (if they aren't true mates though..is it?), cursing, retelling of a fake historical fable that includes VERY brief mentions of murder and suicide as the consequence of a tragic hero's hubris explicit sexual content: biting, marking, knotting, semi-rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare 🌙 an: wow, i did not think i would get this out in time, january was a rough month for me, but my grandpa just finished his last lung cancer treatment last week, and im trying to just balance all the stress of real life, but yeah, i think it's getting better. thank you to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @peachiilovesot7 i appreciate all your help, whether you helped in december or in february, it is much appreciated, as always. you're the best hype squad. this is also my first ABO story, so if you hate it don't tell me. LOL 🌙 summary: "When crescent rises, we shall rise as one, Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun." Alpha-heir Namjoon and his long time sweetheart are thought to be the next pair to rule Highscrest, but when Duskfall is attacked, the heir makes a decision that changes the course of not only his and his girlfriend's destiny, but yours as well.

This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the lovely @colormepurplex2! Happy Valentine's Day!

🌒🌒🌒 Tuesday - Waxing Gibbous

The loud chatter of the crowd irritates you; your senses are on overdrive after the past two weeks you’ve had. Packing and moving everything you own across the river during the New Moon was unexpected—almost as unexpected of it being a result of a peace treaty signed by the Beta of your old pack after the death of Alpha Tyvrin.

A Beta jostles you in an attempt to move closer to the raised platform at the far end of the civic center, and you shoot him a quick glare before turning your attention back to the men on stage to avoid any drama. An Omega glaring at a Beta isn’t as bad as if it was an Alpha, but insubordinate enough still. The new tribe members do not know your previous role in Duskfall and have every right to challenge any hierarchical disrespect.

“Quiet, please,” a voice rumbles quietly, but everyone in the room follows the directive. You recognize the Alpha Father, or the father of the Alpha-Heir and most recent Pack Alpha of Highcrest, at the podium. Your irritation drops as your senses can finally focus now that the room is silent. The smells of so many new pack members still suffocates your olfactory system, but it’s bearable now. One scent seems to overpower the rest, a clean forestry smell that seems to dilute the others. “Good evening, and thank you all for coming tonight. We hope you all have been acclimating to the changes these past few weeks. If you have any concerns, please reach out to any of us here.”

The Alpha Father waves over his son, stepping aside to let him take the lead of the rest of the meeting. Your eyes drink in the lithe movements highlighted by the fit of his suit. “Thank you, Alpha Father. For those of you who are joining us from Duskfall, at the time of the New Moon three months prior, I began the ascension steps. Right before your arrival, I had just finished the last of the three trials. All that remains is the bonding.”

You look around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction to his voice as you are—the crowd is transfixed; all attention is on the Alpha Heir Kim Namjoon. He’s young, almost thirty, but commands the stage. It’s not just because he’s handsome, though the blue suit and his dark brown hair help. His aura oozes from afar, your inner wolf screaming at you that this is a man you would follow and it’s your turn to receive a dirty look as you bump into the person in front of you. You turn back to the stage, ears attuning to his baritone as he continues.

“—final ceremony will take place in three days, and as you all know, I will be selecting my mate. I know that there are many newcomers who may be wary of joining the pack with all of these changes happening so soon, but please have faith in us. Highcrest will protect you all, and we will be at full strength as soon as the full moon rises in a week.”

Some applause breaks out, and his confidence soothes the wolf inside you that worries about this treaty. Highcrest sits on the eastern side of the Twin Rivers split, atop the range that leads to Twin Falls. Your previous pack, Duskfall, was integrated into Highcrest two weeks ago after Shadowhide attacked and killed Alpha Tyvrin under the cover of the New Moon, in a successful attempt at taking the land between the two streams.

The fertile soil and access to the freshwater source has been a source of contention between Duskfall and Shadowhide for decades, and while a group consisting of the Alpha, Beta and his best warriors patrolled your western border, Shadowhide attacked. The Beta and a few others escaped by the grace of the moon, which gave the pack enough warning to prepare and kept Shadowhide at bay now that the act of surprise was gone. With the Alpha slain and the clock ticking before Shadowhide invaded, the Beta had no choice but to reach out to Highcrest for help. A peace treaty was signed, allowing all pack members of Duskfall to join Highcrest in exchange for their commitment to the pack. Any members who were against the treaty were allowed to leave of their own volition and go back to the main city, or find a pack of their choosing, but with the danger of Shadowhide’s takeover imminent, everyone agreed to travel east across the river and up the mountain range to the safety of Highcrest.

“Thank you to all of Duskfall’s former pack for all of your patience with us as we’ve worked to create a space for all of you here in Highcrest. After the ceremony, which is open to all unmated Omegas, everyone from Duskfall will officially be of Highcrest, and those who have not yet finished their commitment rites can do so at that time.”

You watch as Kim Namjoon waves over a tall, slender woman with sleek hair falling down her back. She is the picture of elegance, her walk stalking forward in a hypnotic fashion as she steps beside the Alpha-Heir and speaks to the crowd. You recognize her from the Apothecary you’ve been training in ever since you’ve settled into your new life here.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Min Everlight, an Omega of pack Highcrest. I am the head healer for the pack, and if Alpha Namjoon is ever unavailable, please come see me down at the Apothecary. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can in his absence.” Her hand moves almost subconsciously towards his, and they intertwine fingers. “We have committed our lives to this pack, and all of us up here will do our best to provide for Highcrest. Please stop by the apothecary this week if you haven’t yet received the Aconite to remove your Duskfall markings in preparation for your Highcrest one.”

Everlight stays linked to Namjoon as he takes a slight step forward to end the meeting.

“When the crescent rises,” he begins, and the people around you intone their response.

“We, too, shall rise.”

Walking under the waxing gibbous, you and your Beta roommate, Sana, wave goodbye to one of your elderly neighbors. You’ve been checking on all of the members of your old pack, helping them in any way you can to get them acclimated after work. You go home tired every night, but you want to make sure this merger works.

Sana skips ahead as your new home comes into sight, singing the Alpha-Heir’s praises. “He’s so brilliant, I promise you this is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. And Min Everlight? She’s amazing, right? You’ve been working under her these past couple of weeks, isn’t she effervescent?”

You laugh at her excitement, answering her vaguely as you unlock the door to your shared home. “She knows her stuff, that’s for sure. I’ve learned a few new things already since we’ve been here, but most of it I already knew.” Sana dreamily wanders to her bedroom, ignoring your slight diss and chattering mostly to herself about how wonderful tribe Highcrest is. You plop onto the couch unceremoniously, thoughts on Min Everlight.

Everlight is effervescent, with an inner glow that makes her the perfect Omega as mate for the Alpha-Heir. You’ve heard from the other women at the Apothecary that she and Namjoon have been dating for years. Longtime sweethearts and—if their little show on stage meant anything—his choice for his mate. This thought makes you feel sick, because ever since you walked away from Duskfall and followed him to Highcrest, your heart has thrummed for him.

Taking a deep breath that you let out with a sigh, you change your line of thinking before you venture towards a vitriol hatred of your soon-to-be female leader. Min Everlight has been nothing but motherly and nurturing to all of you since your arrival, but the more you see her all over the Alpha-Heir, the harder it is to like her. Not just because of her romantic relationship with Namjoon, either, but that she represents everything that you almost were, and reminds you of everything you lost.

You scratch at your upper arm over your shirtsleeve, where the Aconite serum you rubbed on earlier dissolves your Duskfall tattoo in preparation for your Highcrest one. The Aconite is diluted and mixed with other herbs to prevent poisoning that would weaken you before the ceremony. Sana disappears into the shared bathroom to shower, and you close your eyes for a moment not meaning to fall asleep as you wait for your turn.

The moon goddess blesses you with dreams of Duskfall past, memories of your destined path as the tribe’s Luna-to-be—the Omega paired to the now fallen Alpha Tyvrin—and you wake to the reality that all you have trained for was for naught.

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Or, more like you wake with the sudden slam of a door, sitting upright as you squint to keep back the sunlight.

“Damn, you slept on the couch?” Sana questions, looking cheery and well-rested.

You clear your throat to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”

Sana glances at her watch. “Um, it’s half past eight.”

“Shit, I overslept, and I’m supposed to meet with Everlight again today.” You stand abruptly, and begin organizing all of the large pillows on the couch, laying the blanket just so until you hear Sana laughing at you. You look up at her with a glare. “What?”

“I think you might be in pre-heat. You’ve fluffed that pillow at least three times, and that blanket cannot be folded over the back of the couch any more perfectly unless you’ve got a protractor in the cabinet.”

“There’s no way, it hasn’t been enough time since the last one.” You ignore her as you clamber back onto the couch, tucking your legs up under you seemingly forgetting your plans for the day.

“Your heat is probably gearing up because of some Alpha at the meeting last night. With Tyvrin gone, rest in moonlight, you’re no longer taking the suppressants are you? With everything that’s happened, it makes sense that you’d forget,” she theorizes, “and apparently Highcrest doesn’t have that practice here.”

You can’t believe you’ve forgotten. In Duskfall, you were chosen by Alpha Tyvrin to be his mate, and asked to take suppressants until the ceremony. This was to help to prevent you from having a heat, decreasing your pheromones from triggering any non-bonded Alpha’s into their ruts and endangering you. These past few weeks since the move, you haven’t been taking any suppressants, and you’re sure by now it's run its course and is out of your system.

“They don’t practice that here?”

“No, weren’t you listening at the meeting? The Alpha-Heir doesn’t choose his mate the same way like in Duskfall. Highcrest has a different ceremony. All unmated Omega’s can be part of it.”

“But isn’t Everlight most likely going to be chosen anyways?”

“I hear there’s blindfolds involved, so maybe instead of sulking, and filling the apartment with your sour scent, you can just join the ceremony and give it a try.”

The news fills your chest with what feels like sunbeams, and you smile at the Beta as you relax into what you’re now realizing is a nest.

“Ah, the room smells so much nicer now. Also—you’re late.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Kim Namjoon sits patiently outside the Apothecary, waiting for Everlight to finish for the day. He can sense her inside, her scent a fresh scent of clean linen, just brought down off of the line after soaking in the sun. It’s always been the strongest scent to him, out of all of the women in Highcrest, and he’s sure that the Moon Goddess will prove her to be his mate this weekend when he ascends to his Alpha status.

Fingers drumming along his clothed knee, he hums to himself as he watches the sunrays filtering through the trees as it sets. The small bell above the door chimes as small groups of girls and women of all ages trickle out from the shop—Everlight hosted a gathering after work for all of the newcomers to review the Highcrest ceremony procedures for women, and they all bow respectfully when they catch sight of him seated in the chair near the door.

Namjoon can’t help but wonder what else they were working on today, his nose itches to investigate whatever new tonic or serum she’s put together this time—the smell is amazing. Like a warm honey coating his tongue, hints of bourbon with small bursts of brown sugar peaking his interest. He hopes it’s not something inedible, like the Aconite serum, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and moving to peer through the small glass windows framed in the center of the door.

Ah, he thinks as he takes in one of the new pack members, Everlight must have let one of the Duskfall women teach a new tonic. Namjoon recognizes you through the dusty glass standing in front of the group, and remembers that his Beta, Seokjin, had pointed you out from afar when you first arrived.

🌑Two Weeks Ago 🌑 Monday - New Moon

“That’s Alpha Tyvrin’s mate, er—was his mate. They hadn’t actually had the ceremony yet, the attack happened before the full moon ceremony could happen, but she was set to be Duskfall’s Luna.” Seokjin’s finger points down the lane from the window of City Hall, connecting to a woman walking towards the villager housing area. Namjoon eyes you warily before posing a series of questions to his Beta.

“Will it be an issue to have two mature Luna’s in a pack? Should we offer to place her with another pack to mate with an Alpha?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t ever heard of something like this happening. Typically the Alpha has already mated the Luna, and since one cannot live without the other—”

“I see.” Namjoon understands why the Moon Goddess would create such a fate for paired leaders. “Had the ceremony already happened, she would be buried next to him. It could be a help, now that we have so many more people, to have two strong healers in the pack. Maybe she could travel on patrols in case of an attack?” He wonders how Everlight would react to finding out that there’s another Luna-trained Omega in the pack, and if this would be a way to spin it to lessen any blowback.

Seokjin looks thoughtful, eyebrows lifted as he tilts his head and gathers his words carefully. “That could be a good option for the second Luna, so that their training and skills do not go to waste, especially now that our pack has grown…It could also be worth mentioning—with so many new members, it would be a good show of faith if you were to perhaps choose the Duskfall Luna as your mate—”

Namjoon’s growl silences Seokjin momentarily but he presses on when he sees no claws being barred.

“I’m just saying, nothing helps unite two packs better than having one of their own integrated into the upper levels of the hierarchy. If we want to keep peace and help Duskfall feel loyalty to Highcrest, taking their to-be-Luna as your mate would be the smart move. You and Everlight aren’t fated, so it’s not like our pack would frown upon it under the circumstances—”

Namjoon’s eyes cut like daggers as he stares his Beta down, almost dragon-like in ferocity as he contains his inner beast. “Everlight is my mate, Seokjin. I would never betray her like that.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday (present) - Waxing Gibbous

Looking at you now, Namjoon is glad to see that you and Everlight seem to have no issues working alongside each other. After reading through previous Alphas’ historical notes and reviewing the history of the packs of the Twin Rivers Valley, he decided that it would be best to keep you around, as he worries his newest constituents would revolt if they thought he had banished you from Highcrest. He spent the first couple of weeks talking to other elder members of Duskfall, and learned that a lot of the pack had come to rely on you as they became acclimated, that you had been going around to visit with them and check-in, and keep them all calm with the changes happening.

He appreciated that you had taken this on as a duty, especially when you were dealing with the biggest blow of all. Namjoon meant to meet with you to thank you, but the longer he took, the more it felt fake, rehearsed, and like an afterthought instead of what it really was: an Alpha-Heir not yet familiar with his role, and learning about you from afar made him feel like a weird stalker of sorts that he had all this knowledge of you and your skills from others.

Your skills would be most useful to their pack, and though you were meant to lead the pack by an Alpha’s side, you could still maintain some modicum of that role, just as the second to Everlight. Namjoon is sure this plan will work. He plans to have a meeting with Seokjin and Everlight tonight, that way he can make sure that they will follow his plan without any issues.

He knows he could just order everyone to follow along, but using his Alpha to force others to do what he wants doesn’t always work out in the long run. The history of the tribal lands and the fact that there were three distinct tribes from the original one, up until Tyvrin’s death, is proof of that.

It’s much better for a leader to have the consenting loyalty of his pack, instead of forced fealty that brews contempt and derision. Namjoon steps back from the door to allow another person to exit, and once again, the honeyed bourbon seeps through the opening. It’s much stronger this time, urging him to his feet almost against his will.

He feels his blood thrumming, pounding through his veins like a rushing river. Namjoon checks his forehead, as if feverish, and notices his hand comes back with a sheen of sweat. It’s like he’s gone into pre-rut, which would be crazy. He’s pretty regular when it comes to his ruts lining up with Everlight’s heats, and she’s still not due for a little bit…

Namjoon stumbles backward, taking the three steps back to solid ground quickly as he tugs at the collar of his buttoned shirt. He’s too hot, it’s all too much, he has to do something, move, but he’s in the middle of the town, there are people who look to him to be more restrained than this standing all around…Namjoon trips a little on the gravel beneath his feet as he takes off back towards City Hall and away from Everlight, afraid that if she is due for her heat and his pre-rut was triggered by that, he would mount her right there in front of the last few people in the store and fuck her hard against the counter, not caring if everyone saw the powerful way he drove his cock in and out of her until he filled her with cum and knotted her.

He’s locked himself in his office, blinds closed with his fist wrapped around his thick length as he imagines it: his hands firm on the plump rounds of ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he spits between them, Omega slick lathering his cock with every stroke and the tight walls sucking him back in with every pump out, and when he cums—copious amounts leaking around his large hand—it’s only then that he realizes that it wasn’t the clean linen-scented Everlight he was imagining taking his knot.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

You’re irritated—more so than you’ve been since your entire life was turned upside down two weeks ago. The Beta that’s always around the Alpha, Seokjin, randomly showed up at your place in the morning saying you were tasked to go on a supply run to the nearest city. It makes sense—Seokjin explained that the Alpha had handpicked everyone in the group to help new pack members meet others and start to learn their ways, and you appreciate it, except for the fact that you don’t want to be far from home right now.

In fact, because of the upcoming ceremony, Everlight had let all of the women training in the apothecary have the next few days off, as she expected to be chosen and wanted to prepare herself and her home for what was to come. You had mixed feelings when she initially announced this to everyone, because while you enjoy the respite from the constant go-go-go of changes around you, the reason behind it left you feeling miffed.

All of yesterday, you spent time working at the Apothecary and were even asked by some of the others to show them some tonics and potions that they had never heard of, and while you enjoy teaching others, it’s quite draining to go through the motions while talking through every step you make, and why. The girls quietly scribbled down your words in their notebooks, committing your teachings to paper, which made you feel good about yourself, until reality hit about your future.

It almost didn’t feel fair that you were so new to the pack and already others were looking to you to train and teach them new things, meanwhile another person is slated to take the position you’ve wanted and trained for your whole life.

Shaking away your thoughts, you tap back into the moment, finally having arrived in the bustling city a little past mid-day. You hate all of the smells; the odor rising from the sewer grates and scents from the people who jostle you as they rudely push past your group. You hold back the urge to plug your nose, sighing out a weighted exhale as you follow Seokjin through the automatic sliding doors and into a grocer’s market.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

Back in the forest, a half day’s trip from the city, Kim Namjoon spends his time in his office again, hiding out from his duties by disguising them as last minute studying and planning for the ceremony.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet with Everlight the previous night, instead calling Seokjin only to discuss the plans for the supply run. He looked over the list of items Everlight needed in the apothecary, and only because the winter months were starting to fade away into spring meant this would be the last expensive trip until winter came again.

Bees do not make honey in the winter, so why can’t he explain away the coincidence of the honey bourbon smell and the note written in Everlight’s scrawl next to the requested item underlined twice: Honey — we’ve been out for ages!! He doesn’t want to believe that he could be feeling this way for someone other than Everlight, but of two things he knows for sure: he smelled honey, and Everlight is distinctly NOT a honey smell.

Seeing that on the list had Namjoon rise with a wild idea, to send the other Luna far, far away for the day, to help him clear his mind. In reality, he paces his office, wearing thin the once plush carpet with his worried steps until he can’t take it anymore. Crossing the room, he walks with such a force that no one dares to question where he’s off to.

He knows where you live, knows that your Beta roommate Sana should be home, and when he knocks on the door with authority, he expects Sana to fling the door open so hastily that the movement sends the mixed scents of the apartment wafting out at him. Instantly, he expects his spine to straighten as his whole body is overwhelmed by the truth—except that never comes. No one is home, as a kind older woman politely points out to him after his third attempt at knocking.

“Those girls went into town today, it seemed like the Luna had to drag Sana along with her,” she chuckled, clearly a pack member who was fond of the two women. “Did you want me to tell them you stopped by?”

“No! I mean—no need to worry them about my visit, I can talk to them tomorrow, thank you.”

He swiftly departs, deciding to just head home instead of back to the office for some peace.

“Joonie!”

Barely having set foot in his residence, Namjoon is bombarded with the irritating scent of laundry detergent. It’s too pungent; overwhelming in a way that he’s never experienced before. He catches himself before his nose wrinkles and Everlight ascends into his arms. He hugs her back, planting a soft kiss to the side of her head in an endearing manner before she pulls him into the dining room for an early dinner with his parents.

Namjoon spends the evening engaged in conversation with his parents and Everlight, avoiding talks of the ceremony as best he can—despite his mother and girlfriend's best attempts. His dad eyes him warily—in that cunning way that only another Alpha can—sensing the change in the dynamics within the room. Namjoon is grateful his father remains quiet, simply watching the conversation over the nightcap of barrel-aged Cabernet Sauvignon from their cellar.

Once they call it a night and his parents disappear to their room, Everlight begs Namjoon to stay over, and unable to say no to the woman he’s never said no to before, he relents. He regrets this decision almost immediately, as his hopes that Everlight would help him take his mind off of the one thing that’s been at the forefront of it are crushed.

“She’s just really good at healing. She knows a lot, like I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but she knows things that I don’t. And the things I have been able to teach her, she learns it so quickly and easily. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

Namjoon can tell; Everlight’s face is scrunched up in a way that makes her look unattractive, and he doesn’t know what to do or to say to make her feel less insecure.

“Maybe it’s a good thing she is joining our pack. It’s important to learn and grow continuously.” It’s as diplomatic as he can be at the moment.

“Yes, but she’s trained as a Luna, just like me. It’s a little like she’s trying to take my spot. Yesterday, while I was teaching, the other girls asked her to teach them something I didn’t know, and I just had to stand there and let her take over my lesson. The girls were so focused on her and taking notes, it made me kind of hate her.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes trying to find something within his, but he looks away, reaching for the light next to his bed.

Everlight reaches for him, aligning her body to his as her fingers grip his shoulders so she can position herself atop him.

“That’s why I can’t wait for the ceremony, baby. We can finally be a true, mated pair. Start our forever, with me as your Luna. No room for confusion from the pack about who will bear your pups.” Her eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively as she lowers her lips to his plump ones. “We can practice now if you want, you can scent me, let all the bitches in heat know to back off.” She kisses him again.

Namjoon kisses her back, but her laundry odor fills his nasal cavity and her words are so off-putting for the role she hopes to take on for the pack. He can feel her hands travel down his ribcage, but nothing about her touch turns him on. Pulling away from the kiss, he catches his breath as he readies his excuse.

“Babe, I think we should wait,” his large hands hold her shoulders firmly before his touch grows softer, palms smoothing up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “The ceremony is so soon, and I want it to be sacred…I know that might sound cheesy and un-Alpha-like but—”

“No, you’re right.” Everlight smiles softly at him, but he can see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed with all of the new pack members and the changes happening, I think I got a little over excited.”

“I love that about you, you know? You’re excitement over things, and how you want to be the best version of yourself for our pack. You’re already an amazing Luna in your own right.”

Everlight excuses herself to the bathroom, and Namjoon clambers off his bed, bare feet leading him towards his cracked bedroom window. In the light of the almost full moon, he can now see the noises that drew his attention moments ago: returning members of his pack walking down the path to their homes.

There’s no mistaking it now. A warmth blooms from his groin, spreading higher until his neck grows hot from it as his nose and mouth feel thick with the sweetest bourbon honey scent. With you unaware of his gaze as you laugh with Seokjin and Sana, he feels jealousy boiling into his chest.

“Mine.”

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

You wake up late on Friday morning, your body a little stiff and sore. You feel as if you slept with a heater on, sleep clothes clinging to your body due to the sweat that covers your skin. You try to shake it off, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even after a cold shower.

You’re not surprised you woke up mid afternoon after arriving back at Highcrest near midnight, but you suppose the excitement of what’s to come will keep you awake the rest of the evening. You have to meet the elders for the pre-ceremony rituals at the start of moonrise, so you eat a light snack in the hopes it won’t trouble your stomach too much.

You know now that Sana is right. Your heat will kick in no later than tomorrow afternoon, with the confirmation of the night sweating and soreness symptoms appearing today, but you worry about what it will mean if you end up not being chosen…you’ll begin cramping and sink into Omega-space, leaving you vulnerable to other higher ranking pack members without a plan prepared to get you through your heat.

At quarter till six, you leave your home with a small bag of items and head to city hall, where Elder Aline waits for you and the other Omegas who planned to join the ceremony to arrive. Elder Aline was old—she worked closely with the Luna three times removed was in power, and lived to prepare both of her successors, and now would be helping to prepare this ceremony.

You hug your bag to your chest as the last of the group arrives: Everlight. She only looks slightly surprised to see you in the group of seven Omega’s, but she fixes her facial features quickly and offers you a bright smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you in the group!” Everlight’s tone is friendly enough, but the undercurrent of her words screams out territorial.

“Oh, yeah, my roommate said I should come as an unmated Omega to take part in the ceremony. It’s different from our previous pack’s tradition, and if I hope to carry out my duties and help with future ceremonies, the best way to learn is to be part of it, right?”

Your answer makes sense, perfectly curated to help push away any questions that dig too deep into your motivations, including yourself. Part of you knew that it would be beneficial to you if the worst comes to fruition, but the other part, the more primitive part, knows the real reason is because the wolf inside of you longs for your mate to be Kim Namjoon.

Elder Aline calls for your attention, her weathered voice a calming stillwater that acts as a soothing balm to the nervous energy in your chest. She speaks to the group, sharing some information about how the rest of the night will play out before she leads your small group towards the outskirts of Highcrest, to the south of a small lake on the edge of the forest. The walk takes a bit of time to navigate the terrain, especially with an Elder leading.

You allow her moments to pause and rest, clearly fatigued from traipsing through high grasses and uneven dirt, but soon enough you are there, and placed along the treeline, a small clearing awaits you. She makes quick work of explaining the first ritual’s steps, and you allow her voice to lead you through the routine.

The cleansing ritual itself takes the better part of an hour, as everyone planning to participate strips down to enter the water under the light of the moon which now grazes the top of the trees. A small pouch filled with herbs and petals is handed to each of you to rid you of any lingering outside scents. You lather your skin, taking the time to clean every inch before stepping out to air dry. It’s colder than you expected, but no one wants to risk masking their scent for the ceremony.

The elder had laid a simple white dress on the shore of the lake near your bag, and once dry, you sheathed your body with it, happy for the fabric to provide some warmth. She pulls a thermos from her bag along with small cups.

“Purified under the new moon,” she intones, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Red azaleas, to pull out your emotions and attract your true mate.”

You sip it slowly, letting the heat warm your hands. The other women join you after the elder gives them each a cup, and you huddle in a circle, trying to stay warm.

“I think it’s good that we have so many of us for the ceremony,” Everlight speaks, her voice light and airy. “It would be a boring ceremony if I was here by myself.”

Her words were clearly chosen carefully, meant to sound like a compliment to the others for their company, while laying claim to the role not yet given to her by the moon. You bristle, feeling your body heat up. Her comments were starting to annoy you, because a true Luna was not insecure or haughty. She was a healer, a person that others could go to when they needed strength, compassion, or empathy. Everlight seemed to have forgotten this.

“I think it is great that Highcrest’s tradition is different from ours, it feels more…pure.” You don’t know how else to describe it, but the act of having the alpha choose his mate through this ceremony feels like how it used to be. The elder hears you and her words confirm this.

“This is the true ceremony. But come now, it is about time for us to begin.”

She leads you around to the north side of the lake. A small copse of trees had blocked the incoming sight, and now that you were closer, you could see the small gathering of pack members standing in a crescent.

Directing you to step into the open space, she takes your cups from each of you as the seven of you line up with ample space between each other. You look around nervously. The cold you felt earlier when you were wet and naked exiting the lake was gone; you notice that you feel hot. You’ve felt hot since drinking the tea.

The crowd murmurs quietly to one another as you look around for Sana, finally finding her to the right near the top point of the moon shape they were standing in. She waves at you, a smile breaking across her face as she takes you in.

All at once the noise in the forest dies out. The muttering follows suit, and Elder Aline steps before the crowd.

“Before the great divide of the tribal lands, the Alpha’s mate was never set in stone until the ceremony was completed. Even if the Alpha had taken many lovers as a young pup, it matters not, for what the moon reveals is the truth. And an Alpha dare not disobey the moon, lest the pack fall weak.”

She then begins her tale of the history of the original tribe they descended from.

“Many, many moons ago, we once existed as a proud and noble pack led by an Alpha of unmatched strength and wisdom named Lycaon. Under his reign, our pack thrived, united as one for the good of the group. We honored the ancient laws dictated by the phases of the moon, for we knew the moon's power was both a gift and a curse. Before the divide, we could shapeshift along with the phases of the moon.

But Lycaon, with his pride swelling within him like a thunderous storm cloud, began to question the moon's choice for his fated mate. He refused his fated Omega, instead choosing who he wanted, and not who our celestial goddess knew our pack needed. Ignoring the warnings of his most trusted Betas, Lycaon decided that his unborn son would also choose his own mate, not the moon.

At first, this defiance seemed to have no negative impact. But before long, cracks began to appear between pack members. By refusing the moon's guidance, the pack ended up with an Alpha-chosen Luna who was not prepared for her role. The rejected Luna fell melancholy, and took her own life, saying she could not watch the ruin of her pack. Some wolves found themselves unable to control their shifting, and began to attack their own kin in fits of madness. Other pack members grew weak—their bodies unable to withstand the impact of their dual nature.”

The entire crowd was enraptured hearing the tale, as Duskfall members did not know the history, and you are among them in learning the true history of the divide.

“As chaos descended upon our once-proud pack, Lycaon's authority waned as the full moon wanes. Desperate to maintain his grip on the pack, he resorted to ruling the pack with fear instead of respect. But his efforts only fueled the flames of discord, and soon, the pack was torn asunder by fights and betrayal.

In the aftermath of our pack's collapse, three new packs rose from the one, each led by a different wolf claiming to be the one true Alpha. They fought for the lands we stand upon today, with Lycaon’s son, Claudin, taking the hills to found Highcrest, and the other two packs fighting over the lower grounds. Claudin knew that in order to reclaim the strength and glory we had lost, he must not allow pride or the greed for power seduce him into betraying the moon.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd. You knew your former packmates had the same thoughts running through their mind as you did—could this really be true? Was Alpha Tyvrin’s downfall predestined to happen in order to reunite the original pack? Elder Aline coughs, and you focus back on her.

“And so, this tale of Alpha Lycaon and our pack serves as a tale of caution for generations, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and the importance of respecting the ancient laws that govern our kind. Alpha Claudin rectified the treachery his father had done unto the moon, but we shall never shift again as punishment.”

A quiet settles upon the crowd, and the elder gestures to a group of children you didn’t notice before. They step towards each of you, and she asks you all to kneel. The small child before you has a face like a cherub, full cheeks pulled tight as he shows his teeth to you, eyes disappearing in his delight.

He bequeaths a length of dark fabric, and his hands move so as to wrap the ends around your face, deftly knotting it behind your head. When you feel him step away, you stand back to full height. Your other senses are heightened, anxiety blossoming at what comes next. You hear footsteps, and sounds of awe and admiration sweep across the crowd stealing your nerves. You freeze in anticipation.

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.”

Seconds tick by as you wait, eyes furiously trying to see through the thick material stealing your sight. Seconds turn into minutes and you can hear the faint rustling of bare feet traveling across the grass, the weighted foot falls accompanied by heavy inhales of the still air surrounding the area. You know the Alpha has entered the clearing—can feel a palpable shift in the energy as your body grows hotter by the second. His scent sings to you, and you whine lowly, wanting to follow it.

Again, the crowd responds to something unseen by you, this time it has your inner wolf crouching, tail down and ears back—showing submission. Another whine escapes you, a little louder this time. Your distress must be filling the area around you, you can sense the crowd’s movement, reacting to your scent. You begin to panic, fearing that a distressed scent would push the Alpha to choose another, not the scared, submissive and pathetically whining bitch in heat—

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

Namjoon walks up to the clearing surrounded by his closest advisors, some of whom had been absent patrolling the borders and securing their land the past several weeks, and returned in time for the ceremony. As he approaches, the sounds in the forest quickly fade, as if sensing his arrival.

He waits for his signal to enter the clearing, far enough away that he can only smell the crowd of his pack members standing between him and the clearing where the Omegas will stand. Namjoon spent all day in the forest, away from town preparing for the ritual by hunting for game to be used for the meal to feed his mate before the knotting. He also had to follow the same cleansing tradition, bathing under the light of the full moon, drinking the purified new moon tea, and dressing in loose, white linen pants.

He tried his best to clear his mind from the events of the previous evening, and once he was away from the bustle of the town square, he found it easier to convince himself it was just a fluke. After years of being with Everlight, the idea of being fully committed must have made him feel a bit scared, so he latched onto the idea of something new, someone different…you.

Now, after his mindful afternoon in the forest, he knows he just has to trust the moon will lead him to Everlight, his mate. He knows her scent, knows it like he knows the taste of his mom’s cooking or the sound of his father’s favorite whiskey bottle opening.

As the moon climbs higher, he waits, steadily listening as the crowd quiets and Elder Aline speaks, recounting the tale of the original tribe. As she gets close to finishing her tale, Namjoon is tapped on the shoulder by Beta Taehyung, who motions to the blindfold in his hand.

“It’s time, Alpha.”

Namjoon nods, taking the blindfold from the younger male and covering his dragon-shaped orbs. He fastens the knot, and he senses when another one of his trusted Betas approaches him.

“I have the pouch here. Make sure to smell it deeply before—”

Beta Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon. “I know, I know. Smell it deeply before I let my inner wolf out to track my mate.” He lifts an open palm so Jungkook can place the small, organza fabric reticule into his hand.

When he hears his name, he knows that’s his signal. He follows the sound of the elder’s voice to enter the clearing.

Raising the small sack to clear his olfactory senses, he inhales a piece of his own clothing, a small handkerchief he kept on him all week. A trick using olfactory habituation to cleanse his palate from the surrounding smells, allowing him to only smell his mate. The crowd shifts, he can hear stilted murmurs about his physique being on display since he was shirtless as he walks past his pack.

Stepping fully into the clearing, he inhales deeply, and instantly he picks up the laundry scent that he’s so used to being surrounded by. It’s definitely Everlight’s scent—he’s almost positive—but it has an edge to it, a slight tinge that he’s not used to smelling. The longer he stands there, the more the scent morphs into a cloying, headache inducing smell. It’s almost fake, a manufactured scent that doesn’t entice him.

He steps away from the smell of it, noting an undercurrent of something nice. The crowd reacts, confused at his actions, but he doesn’t care. He knows he has to trust the moon. And that bourbon-honey scent? He wants more of that. Lifting the pouch again to his nose to rid it of the sickly sweet smell, he drops his hand after a few inhalations, allowing the soft honey smell to seep into his pores. It’s alluring, growing more seductive by the moment, but then it takes on the additional bitter scent of anxiety, and Namjoon worries that something is wrong.

He can feel his inner wolf scratching to get closer, to protect, to save his mate—when he steps closer, the crowd reacts again, so he grabs at his blindfold, tearing it free so that he can get to you. He needs to calm you down, you need to feel safe, to know that your Alpha is here to protect you. He’s closer to you than expected, and the whine you let out calls to him in more ways than one.

His body feels alight with flames, he can see you’re trembling. His hand moves without him thinking, gripping the blindfold and tugging it up and off your head.

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

The light of the moon feels blinding as you blink to adjust your eyes to the sudden return of your sight before it’s eclipsed by the broad body of the Alpha. His breaths are almost frantic, a heavy panting that moves his shoulders with each exhalation as his wild eyes roam your face. His neck gland is hidden by a tied piece of cloth, masking his scent partially and you want to bury your face into him, seeking safety and comfort.

Your body responds to his proximity almost immediately, a simultaneous calming of the mind’s anxiety as physically you feel engulfed in a blaze, a sweat finally breaking out along your hairline as you’re thrown into full heat. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he inhales you, his face looking triumphant as he kneels on one knee before you. He reaches for your hands, which tremble as he locks eyes with you.

“Namjoon, what the hell?!” Everlight stands several omegas down from you, her face free of the blindfold, which now dangles from her fingertips at her side. She doesn’t move for a moment, not until she realizes the Alpha was not responding to her. Her steps don’t falter as she gets closer to you, but your scent grows sour as you take in the murderous look on her face.

Namjoon’s movements are quick and fluid. He stands and postures himself, keeping you protected behind him as he shoves Everlight back with one hand.

“Mine,” he growls. Everlight drops the blindfold, confusion blossoming upon her face.

Namjoon turns to you, grasping your cheeks gently in his hands. “Mate.”

He throws his head back, and lets out a loud howl to the moon.

Chaos ensues. The entire field grows loud as some pack members celebrate the ceremony’s success, while others gossip about the outcome. You can hear snippets of the conversations until another voice grows louder, shouting at the Alpha. It’s Everlight, your brain registers, she’s angry, her sour scent wafting in your direction as she screams.

Some Betas you’ve never seen before hold her back, preventing her from coming closer to you and Namjoon. You back up, jostling into him, and the urge you had earlier grows so strong you don’t hold back. Jumping into his arms, you bury your nose into his neck, and you instantly melt against him, fatigued. Namjoon is startled but holds you tightly, and you can feel when he begins to walk swiftly away from the crowd.

You don’t question it, you just let your Alpha lead you to someplace safe. It takes a few minutes before you arrive at a small cottage, its windows lit with a soft glow. You recognize it for what it is—a mating cabin. Set far enough away from the town square that a newly mated Alpha and Luna can have alone time to get through the next few days.

Namjoon sets you down, but doesn’t let you go. Opening the door, the first thing you see is a pack of water on the small wooden table. It’s one large room, like a studio with an open concept. There’s a small kitchen set up to the left, and straight ahead is a large bed. The sheets are clean and welcoming, and you can feel your body beginning to cramp as your heat kicks in.

You knew it was coming—the low-grade fever, mild cramping, and more recently, increased slick and pheromone production ever since Namjoon touched you in the clearing. You shuffle, uncomfortable as slick leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh slowly.

You can hear Namjoon inhale sharply, before he’s kicking the door shut and grabbing you firmly. He doesn’t speak. His eyes say everything though, the adoration and lust sparkling in the low light in the room.

“Alpha.” It’s a statement. It’s a request.

His lips are on yours, devouring, tasting, suckling as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Honey. You taste like sweet bourbon infused honey…it’s intoxicating.” Namjoon kisses you again, this time his lips trail from yours to your neck. He teases you, teeth nipping at the skin as your thighs rub together seeking pleasure as he pulls sinful mewls from your throat. Your hands grip his upper arms, and you try to tug him towards the bed. You need him. You need his knot.

“Please, Alpha,” you beg, and he shivers in your hold, aroused by your submissiveness. “Need you.”

Namjoon lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You grind against him, biting his bottom lip aggressively. You feel so hot—burning up—and he’s the only thing that can cure you from this growing pain.

Your heat is in full swing, and you can tell it’s triggering your Alpha’s rut. He’s trying to hold back, be gentle and slow, but when you push your leaking core against him, he gives in. His hands fumble with the waistband of his linen pants before his heavy cock springs free, fully erect and searching for your entrance. You move your waist to help the angle of his cock, as one hand holds your hip and the other holds the base of his shaft to align himself.

When the slight pressure on your slit gives, you thrust forward, forcing him inside you with ease thanks to your copious amounts of slick. You feel full, the head hitting in just the right spot. Attempting to create friction, you try to undulate your hips, but the resulting shockwaves from the tip meeting that sensitive spot causes you to clench around him.

He freezes, feeling the quickening of your walls and you yelp in surprise when he throws you on the bed. The loss of him inside you feels unfair, but he steps out of his pants and soon crowds your body with his own as he climbs over your body. A firm hand presses into the middle of your upper back, before he grips your hips and pulls them upwards. The dress slides down, revealing your bare backside to him and you feel more than hear the growl he lets out.

He leans against your body, ripping your dress up until you are able to slide the garment off your arms and throw it to the floor. A smack jolts you forward, but he adjusts you back into place. You feel his thumb drag over your slick covered folds, taunting you.

“Alpha!” you whine, and he chuckles before realigning his length to your throbbing core. At this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, and he begins to rock his hips, thrust after thrust inside you. His large hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side.

“Want to see that pretty face as you cum on my cock, want to hear you cry for me when you take my knot.” His low baritone promises you pleasure beyond your imagination.

He licks up your spine, kissing and nuzzling into your neck, and you know it's the spot he wants to mark you at. You beg him to do it, but he just shakes his head against your skin. “Not yet, my love.”

He kisses you with every thrust he takes, before sitting up more to pin you down to the bed. His movements grow sharp, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks as he pounds into you. Switching up his movements, you can’t believe he fucks so well when he begins to rotate his hips and slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, drool leaking from your mouth onto the sheets as your legs shake.

You clench again, involuntarily spasming every few seconds and you know you’re close—you tell him as much.

“Fuck,” he curses, and you grip the bedsheets as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to your hips and he arches your back even more as he speeds up his own movements. They're fluid, your slick making it almost effortless for him to please you, to take you from behind like this until he’s so deep he could feel himself poking through your stomach—

“Take my knot, want you to have my pups, fuck—”he presses his hips flush to your ass, streams of his cum filling you up endlessly as your body wracks with euphoric release. You whine as you feel the intense pressure of his knot filling you before the pain of his marking bite overtakes your senses.

You feel overwhelmed in a good way, pain giving way to pleasure as the bite seals your mated status and his knot begins to slowly deflate. Once able, Namjoon rolls you over to face him, nuzzling into you as you hold him close. Your heat was sated for the time being, but you knew that soon you would be climbing him once again to meet your needs.

You wince as his nose grazes your fresh mark and he makes an apologetic face. Standing up from the bed, he grabs a bottle of water for you, twisting the cap off for you and proffering the drink.

You take a full swallow, quenching the thirst you didn’t realize you had. Heats have a way of making you forget to take care of yourself in that way. The fatigue consumes you, and you drop back down to the bed. Namjoon takes the bottle from you and places it on the side table. His hands massage your calves, working his way along your thighs. His movements could put you to sleep, but you knew as well as he did that this reprieve would not last long. The moon shone through the window casting a faint glowing halo around Namjoon’s head.

He was yours.

In the moon's tender glow, we're born anew,

The night's canvas echoes our ancient call,

Omegas and Betas, to their knees they fall,

For the Alpha, bound by destiny's fate.

To lead, to fight, to protect, to mate,

In lunar hours, gaze upon the sky,

Let Luna's wisdom be your guiding light,

Her soothing touch to mend wounds that cry.

When crescent rises, we shall rise as one,

Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

Her Words

Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction and the backlash from your family | Mini-Series Masterlist

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

A/N: You all asked for a part 2 so ask and you shall receive! Again thank you for the request on this one it was really fun to write :)

Warnings: hitting, some sexual suggestions

You could feel your handwriting getting progressively worse as the weeks went by.

That was one thing you had not considered as a side-effect from spending so much time with Aemond.

Every hallway, every corner, every walk in the garden. There was always some off-chance that your paths would cross. And every time this coincidence seemed to happen, there was a stupid smile on your face and your hands grip on your notebook seemed less and less. One a few of occasions he had dared to close the space between you, whether it was to brush a hair from your face or to run a warm hand over yours. All of this serving to send warmth to your cheeks that a smile that reached your eyes.

Nobody was more surprised of this behaviour, than Aemond himself. Though he would never admit it to himself.

He had already gifted you one book, written entirely in cursive Valyrian, promising to read you through it, to teach you how to pronounce the words like a native. The book had been kept well and separate from the rest of them in the library. The cover was a wine colour and there was not a rip on it.

And when he extended the book out to you, your hands delicately traced the patterns on the front, inspecting all the details as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Your eyes had found his, wide and bright with gratitude and a slight film of tears coated them, mouth pulling into a line to stop yourself from crying at the kind gesture.

"Ziry iksos issa jaelagon naejot rȳbagon ao pikībagon bisa, issa riñnykeā"

When he spoke Valyrian, it almost seemed too perfect. His voice was suited to it, and it was a shame that he could not speak it all the time. The way he formed the words, his intonation, all serving to set off a spark inside you. And at the notion that he spoke only to you. For you.

It is my wish to hear you read this, my lady.

The words were sweet. But you relished in the way he said them more so.

The book nestled in your arms, you looked down, trying to hide the blush that very quickly was heating your face from the Prince before you. Your hand smoothed over your clothed arm, picking at the wrinkles in it with anxiety. Your hand went to your side and the mind raced at the notion that your notebook was not there.

And he was stood before you, regarding you and the way your anxious face formed being separated from your notebook. Of course, it had not been an accident. You had dared for this day to leave it behind, but now the space where it would have been seemed endless. Like those soldiers who return from battle with a limb missing, but still feeling it, still being able to control it.

Your eyes briefly met Aemond's and he could see the panic in your eyes. And you need not be panicked or anxious, you knew he was patient and kind, despite appearances.

"gūrogon aōha jēda…" He said quietly, he had his hands laced behind his back and his good eye looked down on you softly.

Take your time.

He looked so peaceful it bought a pain on your heart. Nobody was as patient as him. Nor had anyone in the past been.

You send him a ghost of a smile in thanks, looking away to pull in a long breath of air, so much so that your lungs ached. You let yourself exhale first before bringing another burst of air in, mouth open to form the words,

"i-iska…no, iksā to-l-lī sȳz…" you manage, the nerves being the cause of it more than anything, "…d-dārilaros Aemond…"

You are too kind, Prince Aemond.

You dared look back up at him once you'd finished the sentence. There was that look again, the darkened look he always gives you whenever you say his name. Your grip on the book tightened once again seeing him take a step towards you and he could hear a breath get caught in your throat. He was so close you could see all the details of his dragon-shaped clasps on his tunic. So close you could smell his scent around you. So close that you thought he might touch you.

"nyke hae ziry skori vestrā ñuha brōzi…"

I like it when you say my name.

His hand came to a lock of your hair at the side of your face, running the strands through his dextrous fingers. His other fingers ran across your jaw, sending a chill through you, only to come to rest his palm on your cheek. His motions were so slow and calculated that it sent a heat through your body that settled in your stomach. You swallowed back, suddenly nervous in his presence, even more so when you felt his thumb trace the outside of your lip.

Your eye never moved from his.

"ivestragon ziry aril"

Say it again.

To anyone else it would have been a command. But he seemed desperate to hear it again and a shuddered breath came from you again.

And before you could even prepare yourself, do all your breathing and calming, the words seemed to pass your lips as naturally as the sun rises over the horizon.

"Aemond…"

He was so close still, a smirk on his face and a smile on your own. All anxiety seemed pressed down below the surface, replaced with something new. Something you thought you would never experience.

Desire.

A desire for his company. For his understanding and patience. But also a desire for him. For him to be pressed to you as if in need and desperation. You could feel your throat constrict at the mere thought.

"kostan ūndegon skoros iksā otāpagon…" He started.

I can see what you are thinking.

"…ñuha riña"

Against his better judgement, he withdrew his hand from you to place behind his back once more, standing back to revel in the effect he had on you. You knew what he was doing and it was not original in the slightest, but it still made you smile bashfully, fingers desperately gripping the book he had given you.

He cleared his throat as if he himself was also nervous, " kessa nyke ūndegon ao tolī…tolī ñuha gūrēñare?" he asked. Shall I see you later, after my training.

You nodded in earnest and watched as he turned to leave, his gaze on yours the entire time until his back faced you. Marvelling at his form as he walked away, he took one more glance back before rounding the corner and you wondered how someone could be so expressive with only one eye. And yet even the smallest glance could send a spark through you like no other. That, combined with his words, was the greatest pleasure you had known.

Even the way he walked away served to stir you so. The way his long legs carried his strides and the way he commanded his space with his form, such confidence at face value and yet so often, in your shared language, he had said that it was not always this way. He had learned the cold stare of feigned confidence through the many years he spent hiding himself away, learning to use his words as his weapon and training his body to be his deadliest.

Who would think that a man like this could be so gracious in the presence of a woman.

Of you.

Hurriedly, you half-ran back to your chambers, letting out a deep breath at being alone and able to let out your thoughts on the man. The book he had gifted you was placed lovingly on your bed as a maid softly knocked at your door. All you could do was face the mirror and uncontrollably smile as she loosened the ties of your dress, pulling the gown off your shoulders to pool at your feet.

"You seem in good spirits, my lady" she remarked, preparing the other dress to be worn at the feast. You could tell that when she said it, she was smiling, "Would the Prince have anything to do with that?"

In the mirror you met her gaze very briefly and shrugged, her hm in response seemed to satisfy her question. Without pressing any further, she draped the dress at your feet and once stepped inside pulled the heavy garment up your body to fasten at your front. This maid was quick about her work and laced it effortlessly at the front and at the back, using metal ones at the front that were coated with gold to compliment the deep forest colour of the gown.

Once the skirts were smoothed down, you observed your figure in the mirror. It was quite possibly the only thing you wore which truly fit you and it was here you felt you looked truly beautiful, for the first time maybe ever. All the small gold fastening attached at the front reminded you of the endless times you had seen Queen Alicent with her seven-pointed star accessories, and you thought she had looked beautiful then.

One your hair was styled the way you preferred, not overly braided, the maid stepped back to admire her own work.

"Beautiful, my lady"

You nod your head in thanks as she takes her leave.

You yourself look on your silhouette and shake slightly. To be his betrothed is one thing, but to be his wife. To tame the blood of the dragon. You felt underequipped for the task at hand.

But you had already conquered him. You just did not know it yet.

You had been seated at the table for some time with one of your older brothers before people started to file into the hall. Of course, this wasn't the first time you had been in this room but it had been so altered for the feast that it was unrecognisable. There was a long table in the middle of the room with a red tablecloth and many candles decorating the middle, their flames barely flickering the room was so quiet.

Glancing over to your brother, he had his head in his hand, probably severely hungover. His eyes were closed so tightly that you thought that he might be in pain, and you half thought to ask him if he was alright but decided against it. For he had not spoken a single word to you in the weeks your family had been guests to King Viserys and Lady Alicent.

With a sigh you smooth your hands over your gown and clasp your hands together, sending a glare over to your brother who whispered shut up at your sigh.

You could not even make sound in front of your family. The kindness served to you by Aemond had made you realise how badly they treated you. Especially your father.

The echoes of fast footsteps broke you from your trance and you looked over at the entrance to see you older sister, arms hurriedly beside her in her half-run and a fierce stare tracking the room.

Her daggered eyes landed upon you, finger pointed in your direction.

"You!" the words came from her like a stab.

Her fierce look had you on your feet, a questioning look on your face as your sister made for you across the room, your eldest brother not far behind in his own half-run. The other drunken brother furrowed his brows in curiosity and all time seemed to slow as your sister threw all her weight into her palm to strike you across the face.

You could barely register the pain in your face until you looked back into your sister's hateful eyes which is when the pain started to bloom across your cheek and jaw. More shocked than anything right now, you raised your hand to your now burning face to touch, it was not sore yet but it certainly would be. Your sister looked unnaturally angry, so much so that the lines around her mouth were now visible and she was shaking. Her eyes were scrunched up with her expression, mouth hanging open slightly to say something.

"You fucking whore" she spat at you, her hand came to your bare arm to twist the skin there and you let out a cry at the pain. But she would not let go and seemed to dig her fingernails into you even further, even at the sudden presence of your eldest brother and entrance of your father.

"What is the meaning of this!" your father's voice boomed but your sister never took her eyes off you. Afraid that if she would, you would escape her tight grip.

"How did you do it, hm?" she asked, eye boring into you, "The Prince could not have fallen for an idiot like you…"

Your mouth formed into a flat line in an attempt to deflect her unkind words, pushing the brewing tears back, but an ever-present feeling was there also. Anger.

"Let her go, sister" Your eldest brother was at her side, hand hooked under her arm to pull her away. Not one look from him was given to you.

Your father was not far behind, his booming voice aching for his daughter to release her hold on you, noting the arrival of Queen Alicent into the hall, who looked shocked at the whole situation.

"What did you do then, fuck him?" she snapped and you could feel your anger bubble inside of you. Mouth open ready to say something, the familiar block stopped you, but your sister was so close, so you thought to opt for a whisper if nothing else. You could no just stand idly by while she disrespected you. That is something you had learnt from him. In only the few weeks you had known him, he seemed to have taught you more than your family ever had.

"N-n.." you start, and a moment of surprise passes on your sister's face, but the anger remains, "…not all of us…h-have to…"

She seemed to mull over the words for a long time, fingernails pushing so hard into your skin you were sure there would be bruising and welts. And it was as if it was a language she had not know, you could see her bounce the words in her head. Or perhaps she had never bothered to hear for the sound of her sister's voice before.

It all came down on your sister so quickly and she let a sinister smile pass on her face at the understanding of your words.

"You dare take the Prince from me…" she cursed, her grip tightening like a vice once more around you and you closed your eyes once more to brace yourself for another strike.

"Care to tell me why your hands are on my betrothed?" a voice rang out loud and deep and your eyes popped open again to find Aemond at the doorway, hands ever clasped behind his back, his cold, hard stare at your sister.

Her head spun around with such speed, you thought it might pop off and her confused gaze met the Prince's, but it was not long before a sinister smile returned, her hands still on you.

"I am your betrothed" she returned.

Aemond turned his head so that he could face the sister straight on, nothing needed to be said, saying enough with his gaze entire. The room seemed deathly quiet as he took his few steps towards your sister, his eye never met yours, not even once. There was danger in the room and he felt he had to address it.

"Aemond…" Alicent muttered, trying to distract him. But it was no use. He was trained directly on your sister and you could feel her façade slip away by the second as she shrunk under his look.

"Release her" he ordered. When your sister did not move, he sent a hooded glare down at her, "Now"

It was clear your sister was too out of it to move, so your eldest brother pulled her towards him, with no resistance. Your groaned in pain as your sister's fingernails came from your skin, leaving red half-moon shaped marks on you. Aemond's hand was on your arm instantly, inspecting the damage your sister inflicted on you, his touch soft against the violence that had ensued before. His fingers traced the marks before allowing his eye to meet yours and then your cheek, seeing the way the skin was inflamed, red and no doubt sore.

It was difficult to gauge his emotion at this time. But all you knew it that he was angry.

Turning to your siblings and father, he took your arm softly to push you behind him, whispering to you softly.

"Gaomas ziry ōdrikagon?" Does it hurt? He asked.

You could not dignify him with a lie and simply replied quietly, "M-mirrī…" A little.

Aemond could not tolerate anyone laying a hand on you, and you seemed to understand this as he faced your family.

"What was that?" you father asked, wide-eyed and staring at you. Silence filled the room once more and your father shuffled embarrassed, "Answer me"

"She spoke" your sister said, "So it does speak"

Her laugh filled the room, that cackle that Aemond hated so much. The one that inspired him to cast her aside, now even more annoying.

"You mean to me that you can speak all this time?" your father says, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "And then once in the company of the Prince, suddenly your idiocy is gone?"

"She is a whore" your sister seethes, but your father orders her to be quiet.

"I would suggest you use different words " Aemond warned, his voice low and protective in the face of your family.

The otherwise quiet Queen Alicent seemed to step forward, using her body to separate the two parties. For a long time, she had been the dividing force between families and had no issues stepping back into that responsibility now.

"That is enough" she said softly, her eyes forever on your father, "My Lord, no promises have been made regarding joining our houses"

All at once, the reality of the situation seemed to hit your father. His face changed from one scorned, angry and exhausted to something more hopeful.

"He is meant to be my husband!" your sister called out, eldest brother still holding onto her arm. She looked positively furious and with the opportunity would most certainly have broken free to wreak havoc once more.

"Be quiet" your father warned. Looking towards you, he jutted his jaw upwards, feeling as if suddenly he had the upper hand, "This marriage will still benefit us no doubt and you have done this family an unexpected favour, your Grace"

Alicent wasn't enjoying a moment of this and simply looked onwards, almost dissociated. Your father's tone seemed predatory, his gaze creeping back over to you and Aemond. Your fingers rested on his hand, delicately gripping him and thanking him for his support in this awkward situation.

Aemond cocked his head, knowing your father had more to say.

Stepping forward, your father dared to glower at the Prince.

"You have taken this halfwit from me, at last"

It was clear it was aimed to set Aemond off. And it had almost worked as the man before you went to take a step forward, only to be met with your hand on his chest. Confused, he looked down at you but you simply shook your head. His look was difficult to decipher as many had often said before you, but you refused to allow him to act how others perceived him, so with a soft hand on his chest you gently pushed him back to take your place before him. One hand slipped into his, you faced your father, who had a sick, satisfied smile on his face.

You could see his gaze waver slightly when you went to open your mouth.

He was the one you feared the backlash from the most. Mother, at least, had been somewhat patient and accepting until her death. But after that, it only served to turn your father bitter. If he would not be patient for his other children, there was little hope for yourself growing up with any form of endearment. What could be expected of such a man.

You felt the familiar slam of a block in your throat, and you swallowed heavily, squeezing Aemond's hand beside you. Grounding you. With a deep breath, you looked back up to your father. He would not interrupt you this time. He would not best you.

He could not have the last laugh this time.

"You…" the words came out forcefully, almost clumsy. But no block in sight, "…are no father…t-to me"

The room was deathly quiet and more than anything, everyone was just shocked. You watched your father's face carefully and saw the raw shock that was so clearly there and you hadn't realised just how tightly you had been holding onto Aemond's hand until he squeezed back, a very obvious proud look on his features.

You took a glance about the room once the silence had become uncomfortable, your siblings sharing their own form of shock in equal measure. A sudden feeling of self-consciousness overtook you and you looked over at Alicent and finally Aemond.

Alicent looked entirely neutral if not a little amused, but Aemond did not have to hide his amusement, his lips turned up into a very clear smirk as his eye looked down at you. You dared to send him a smile back, secretly proud of what you had done in the spur of the moment.

"I think it is time for you to leave, my Lord" Alicent said, cutting through the stony silence, "The King and I will send the terms for the marriage in the coming days"

The father looked wordlessly over at the Queen, now haggard and expressionless.

"I trust the matter is closed"

"Hm" was your father's only response. He gave you somewhat of a glare before turning his back, his own hand clamping around your sisters to drag her out of the room. Your brother's seemed to give Aemond a look before following also, the eldest dragging the middle by the cuff of his shirt.

You let out a breath and your shoulders dropped, now relieved of the pressure. Aemond squeezed your hand again,

"T-tolī o-o…olvie?" you ask. Too much?

He shakes his head with a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, "Daor, īles vok"

No, it was perfect.

The weight of the burden your family was apparently very hefty, for as they arranged their hasty departure the next day it did not seem to bother you to see them off.

You would happily spend the afternoon sat beneath the Weirwood Tree, book softly placed in your lap. Aemond leaned against the tree behind you, reading over your shoulder as your eyes darted across the words scribbled on the page, fingers at the corner ready to turn with excitement.

Aemond smirked knowingly as his eye caught your family passing the gardens, the servants carrying their luggage. Your father leered over, a gaze that could kill settling upon the Prince, but the only thing that could occupy the space between you both was the sound of you reciting the book before you. The one he had given you as a present.

He sat by, watching every now and then as the line formed between your eyebrows at a particularly difficult word, taking staggered breaths to get the long ones through in a single utterance. And for a moment, watching you reciting the text, Aemond swore he saw the passing of regret pass over your father's features.

Your words seemed to be suited to Valyrian, Aemond so often thought, and even now as he listened to your words from the history book, he took a lock of hair between his fingers to play with the strands. A chill ran up your spine at his hand on your neck, pushing the hair away, the smooth skin hiding beneath now exposed to the cold air.

His hand remained at your nape as you finished the sentence.

"Rȳ z-zȳha…sȳrje…sk-skorkydoso gaomas…b-bisa pikībagon?..." How does this read? you pause to ask, a finger pointed at the page at an unknown symbol. Aemond sat up and leered over your shoulder at the spot,

"Valyria"

"Oh" you answer, now feeling stupid, but chuckling in response. You carried on, Aemond's chin now resting softly atop your shoulder.

"Valyria iksin se….ro-rovaja oktion isse se vys. Iemny ziry..."

"Lemnȳ" Aemond corrected, smiling.

You sigh and push the book closed to place beside you, looking up at Aemond's smug face, he was so close now that you could see the stitching of his eye-patch and a shuddered breath came from you at the hand that was still placed on your skin. His eye was once against hooded to look down at you, perhaps you would never get used to the feeling that gave you.

"Ao pikībagon sȳrī" You read well.

"e-emi mērī..sssepār rhēdan" We have only just started. You shake your head at his words.

"Nyke hae aōha elēni…" I like the sound of your voice, he trailed off and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his compliments. Truthfully, you loved the sound of his more. Especially when he spoke Valyrian. It being your shared language, there was a certain intimacy to it. And you found yourself wondering if he would speak it during…

Your sinful thoughts were cut off by his hand on your jaw, turning your face towards him. If he was close before, now he was even closer, and you held your breath and searched his eye for his intent. He was smiling down at you, finger softly dragging across your skin and it seemed like there was nothing more romantic than saying nothing at all in this moment. Eyes zoned in on him, you opened your mouth to say something, his name.

"Aem-"

His lips interrupted you and you could feel how his softness pressed against you, body heated instantly just purely with his touch. All that fire that burned in his blood, pumped around his body, to be pressed against you now; it burned so nicely that you smiled in his kiss. Allowing him to slip into your mouth as you smiled, the warmth enveloped the two of you and you hand was softly pressed to his chest, grasping the collar of his coat, perhaps in an effort to pull him closer. Aemond groaned with need, sending a vibration of desire that descended through you.

You had never felt so wanted in your life. And Gods, it felt so nice to be wanted, to be needed.

Time seemed to pass so slowly when he had you like this and the desire deepened more so when his hand cupped the back of your head, pressing further into you. A ghost of a moan left you which only seemed to spur him on more so, running swiftly out of breath.

"Aōha udra…" he broke away to whisper, forehead resting on yours, "…nyke jorrāelagon tolī"

You smiled, eyes closed and enveloped in his scent, his love. It was other-wordly.

Your words. I need more.

Taglist: @candypurplebutterfly @vainillasmil157 @ysa-psa @angelaevangelion @bellaisasleep @random-human02 @guardian-of-the-imagination

4K notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 8 months

Text

The Angel and the Fae

Summary: The one where Harry is an angel that falls in love with a garden fairy.

And even the heavens can't keep you apart.

Word Count: 3.2k

Harry thinks you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

He decides this the moment he sees you. Resolves instantaneously upon a fleeting glance that you – with your long hair that flows beneath the crown of white lilies atop your head – will be the reason he falls from heaven.

He watches you from the edge of Aspen Hollow. Never once stepping foot past the sacred edge that surrounds the ethereal garden where you preside. Not even a feather from his wings is permitted to dance into such holy ground.

A fawn has crawled its way into your lap. Entrusting you with its care and safety as its eyes fall shut and it blissfully settles into your delicate and soothing embrace.

You’re speaking to it. Softly. Comfortingly. Trailing your finger from its nose down to its spine.

“There, little one,” you’re cooing. Hushed yet reverent. “Sleep now.”

Harry considers himself lucky to be able to hear the way your heart beats beneath your chest. Steady. Rhythmic. Calm. You’re happy. Content and filled with tranquility.

He detects the exact moment you sense him. Catches the hitch in your breath and the jump of your pulse.

He readies himself to explain – to assuage you. He expects your fear, your resentment. Expects you to cast him out. Forbid him from returning.

Instead, you seem…curious. Hesitant but inquisitive, and when your head turns, his lungs just about cave in.

And in that moment, when your eyes find his, his purpose changes. His entire reason for existence is plucked from one instrument and played on another. A tune so beautiful, so melodious…it makes his heart sing.

You’re watching him much like he was watching you. But you don’t move from your spot on the grass, instead keeping the fawn safely tucked away in your lap.

You blink, and Harry swears he can feel the flutter of it against his cheek.

“Hello,” you call quietly, your gentle voice carrying across the few hundred yards from where you reside.

You must know he’ll be able to hear you, and Harry straightens up dutifully, his wings following suit. Expanding some as if to display a sense of chivalry.

“Hello,” he calls back, equally as soft.

You seem to study him for a moment, and Harry swears this is the longest he’s ever gone without breathing.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” you tell him, and he nods once.

“I know,” he admits. “I suppose I just…found it hard to tear myself away.”

You glance down at the sleeping doe on your lap, and he feels his insides twist now that your eyes aren’t on him.

“I apologize if I’ve disturbed you,” he adds, hoping to encourage your attention back.

You hum faintly and brush your palm down the baby deer’s back. “You have not.”

This makes Harry’s mouth curl up into a giddy smile. “Then would you mind if I stay? Only for a moment? I feel quite at peace here.”

You regard him carefully. Inquiringly. “I would imagine an angel is quite often at peace.”

He considers this. “Peace is a privilege,” he finally replies gently. “And it is one that is often lost on me.”

This seems to surprise you, your lips parting delicately as Harry’s pulse begins to thump in his ears. “Then you may stay as long as you’d like.”

His grin doubles in size as he nods his appreciation. “Thank you.”

However, when he remains planted near the tall oak tree that sits beside the edge of the garden, you glance back over.

“Angel,” you call, and Harry’s entire chest caves in. “You’ll disturb me more if you hover like that.”

He hesitates, looking over the soft but hallowed grass only inches away. “Angels aren’t allowed inside The Garden.”

“Not unless invited,” you correct, and he straightens up. “And I am inviting you in.”

Still, Harry can’t make his feet move, despite the way his wings are desperate to carry him to you. Centuries worth of warnings and guidelines are attempting to remind him of his place, of his duty and his loyalty to the heavens. But that does nothing to dampen his urge to go forth and take.

“Angel,” you repeat with a glimmer in your eye. “Come.”

And that’s all it takes for his foot to instantly cross over into sacred ground.

The moment his wings pass through the invisible barrier, a forceful wind ripples across the garden. Echoing between the trees and the grass as the billowing of air sweeps from flower to flower. All the way to the other side.

You feel your eyes widen as you watch him approach. He’s hesitant but intrigued. And perhaps you know better than to invite him in, but your heart aches to provide the handsome figure a moment of serenity.

He studies every petal and vine as he walks through, wonderstruck by the enchanted orchard. He smiles brightly when a blue jay swoops down beside him, the small bird fluttering around his head a time or two before disappearing back into the branches.

And the angel laughs. A sound that resembles the moment a wave breaks against the shore. Loud and lively before it settles and softens.

“This is beautiful,” he says, and you nod.

“It represents serenity. A moment of calm before the next stage of life.”

You both look to the small creature in your lap, and the angel’s expression changes. “Are you saying hello…or goodbye?”

You smile gently, trailing your fingers down the sleeping fawn’s spine. “We are saying hello.”

Those clear, green eyes seem to sparkle at you as he grins. “Hello,” he repeats.

You nod again. “She’ll be sent down soon. The moment the sunlight disappears behind the mountains.”

The angel is intrigued, crouching down a few feet away as he studies the way you trail your palm over the soft coat. “Is it hard to let them go?”

“No,” you answer easily, smiling some. “They are meant to live. To flourish. To exist outside of this realm and give back to the earth what it has given to them.”

The garden falls quiet. You feel him watching you while you watch the creature in your lap. He seems to be wrestling against another question and you chuckle to yourself as the fawn awakes.

“Off you go,” you whisper quietly, helping the wobbling baby doe from your lap before it’s bounding toward the grass and disappearing out of sight.

Left alone with the quiet angel, you both stand and turn to each other. Now provided with a better glimpse of his large frame and sizable wings.

He straightens up under your inquisitive stare, feathers fluttering as the wind passes between you. “I appreciate you allowing me in,” he says tentatively. “I don’t mean to break your rules.”

“They are not my rules,” you correct, waving his apology away. “I believe that anyone who needs a moment of stillness should be given one.”

This seems to charm him. “And I believe you are the first and only fairy to think so.”

You grin. “Perhaps. But I’ve never understood the divide between angels and fairies. Both are providers of comfort and refuge. It seems silly to be at odds with each other.”

He hums, and you wonder if you’ve offended him. “I agree,” he says, and you feel your muscles unwind. “But the heavens have a different belief.”

“They believe that just because fairies were created by a different hand, we are not to be trusted," you snort beneath a quiet breath. "That we are all tricksters and supernatural entities unworthy of eternal salvation.”

“Are you?” His tone is playful, and you feel your smile return tenfold.

“I am a garden fairy,” you reply. “I tend to the trees and the animals. I don’t have time for tricks.”

His look of amusement seems to mirror your own.

“And you?” you ask next, gesturing toward him. “An angel without peace is like a heart without rhythm. Why do you come here when you know better?”

He takes a moment to consider his answer. “Truthfully, I don’t know,” he finally responds. “There was a pulling. On my soul. My wings. They led me here and I wasn’t quite sure why.”

“Well, have you found the peace you were looking for?”

His eyes meet yours. “I have.”

Another unspoken moment dances between you as your attention drifts toward the very plumage he displays so proudly.

You’ve seen angel wings before but never this close. Never when they were near enough to touch. Truth be told, you weren’t sure you’d ever get the chance, and you imagine the quiet angel can hear your heart racing.

But he’s smiling at the way you stare. Seemingly amused by your fascination and wide eyes as you watch the cream-colored feathers flutter against the wind.

“They’re…beautiful,” you admit softly, attention following the curves and dips of each row expanding from his back. “Are they heavy?”

“Not normally, no,” he tells you. “Only in times of great sorrow.”

Confused, you raise a curious brow.

His grin grows. “Each feather symbolizes that of someone I’ve watched over. And when they move on, a piece of their soul stays with me. It lives and it breathes, and it is.”

He steps closer and you feel your breath catch, awestruck by the way the large pennons begin to curl around his frame.

“When their soul is happy, the wings feel weightless,” he continues, a far-off look in his expression. “And when they’re sad, when they cry…my wings cry for them.”

There’s a pleasant sort of ache in your chest. “You’re a guardian angel.”

“I am.” His arm outstretches for you, palm to the sky as he silently requests your hand. “Here.”

Hesitantly but with great keenness, you oblige his instruction, sliding your fingers along his skin.

The moment the contact is made, you both seem to jolt. Magnetized by the feel of his flesh against your own. A stark contrast that’s somehow hauntingly familiar. Soothing in a sense. Destined.

He brings you closer, guiding the tips of your fingers to his wings. Ghosting them across the soft feathers as you suck in a quiet breath and feel the entire weight of the world on his back.

He holds you for only a moment before allowing you to travel the expanse of his wingspan on your own. Delicate strokes along the rows of quills that seem to bask in your touch.

“How do they feel?” he asks quietly, almost as if not to startle you.

Your lips roll into your mouth as you search for the right words. Or any word that could even begin to come close to describing such an ethereal sensation.

“Magical,” you finally say, and he smiles.

“Certainly no more magical than a fairy.”

Smirking to yourself, you lower toward the grass, and extend your hand. Your fingers dance above the blades momentarily before you make a quick snap of your wrist.

Instantly, a flower springs forth from the dirt. Sprouting up out of the soil in full bloom as the angel’s eyes widen.

You pluck it from its roots and straighten back up before offering him the small, dainty lily stem. He steps forward, allowing you to guide the flower behind his ear and tuck it between soft, chestnut curls.

“How do I look?” he asks.

You laugh. “Magical.”

He holds your giddy stare for a second longer before he murmurs, “You’re quite beautiful.”

A bit stunned, you smile, and wave the compliment away. “You must be standing too close.”

With a cheeky hum, the angel suddenly steps back, his wings now fluttering about the air until his feet lift from the ground.

Then, his feathers carry him a few hundred yards away before he lowers back down, studies you, and calls, “Nope. Still beautiful.”

Despite yourself, you laugh again. “You’re quite forward for an angel.”

“And you’re quite timid for a fae,” he retorts, returning to you as a rustle of wind sweeps through your hair. “I was expecting a bit more fearlessness.”

“I’m only fearless when I choose to be,” you tell him. “But I just met you. Why should I share all my secrets when I don’t even know your name?”

The handsome angel considers this before nodding and stepping up to you. “Harry,” he says quietly, as if the answer is reserved only for you. “They call me Harry.”

A stunning name for a stunning man, and you feel your pulse jump while it makes a home in your mind. “Harry,” you repeat, making him grin. “That’s quite pretty.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “And what do they call you?”

You lift one shoulder in a gentle shrug. “I suppose I don’t really have a name. Or at least I don’t have anybody to use it if I do.”

His eyes soften while he glances over the crown of delicate white flowers woven between the locks of your hair. “Then I will call you my Lily,” he decides, and there’s a new sort of blossoming in your chest. “If I may.”

You struggle against such merriment. “You may.”

“Good.” He seems equally as enchanted, and for the first time in almost a hundred years, you feel mesmerized by an angel. Then, his chin motions just behind you. “The sun is beginning to set.”

Turning, you find that it is, and your heart soars as you eagerly reach over and take his hand to drag him toward the middle of the garden.

It’s an action made without much forethought, the need to feel his skin against yours almost like instinct now.

For a moment, you both hesitate. Unsure of the presumptuous act until Harry squeezes your palm, and silently encourages you to lead him where you’d like to go.

You take him toward the middle of the meadow, just beside the calm stream of water.

There, you find the baby fawn. Standing curiously on the other side, waiting to bid you goodbye.

You and the angel come to a stop on the edge of the grass just as the sun is filtering between the trees. Casting a golden hue across the orchard and setting the secluded hollow aglow.

And just as the stars are beginning to take their place in the sky, the sweet doe meets your eye, and lifts its head.

You smile. “Goodbye, little one.”

Its left ear flicks before it turns on its heel, and leaps over the hill. Disappearing from sight as it’s carried into another realm.

Leaving The Garden behind.

Harry seems to hold his breath from beside you as he looks down. “And will it be okay?”

You lace your fingers with his and nod. “It will.”

Silence settles between the trees, between your hearts. It’s comfortable and it’s still and the faint sound of rustling leaves calms your racing pulse.

You look over and allow your attention to trail across his face. Taking note of each line, each edge, each crinkle. The shape of his lips, the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw. The dimples in his cheeks and the dark hairs of his eyebrows.

He’s quite handsome. Alluring, in a sense, yet oddly safe. You imagine this was by design. To help those he protects, and comforts feel more at ease in his presence.

And while you’re looking at him, you notice he’s looking at you, too. Just as intently, with nothing but admiration. He studies the faint, golden sparkles that litter your skin. The way they glimmer beneath each drop of moonlight, a common feature amongst fairies.

You imagine this isn’t the first time he’s seen a fae’s enchanted flesh. But he indulges in the sight of you, nonetheless. Indulges in your magic.

Then, he steps forward, and you feel the air shift.

“May I confess something?” he whispers, and you sense his slight hesitation.

“Of course.”

With a deep inhale, he tentatively reaches out his hand and ghosts the tips of his fingers along your cheek. “…I feel an overwhelming urge to kiss you.”

Your lashes flutter while the insides of your stomach twist and turn into impervious knots. “Oh?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Mhm. And I know that breaks…every rule in existence.”

“And then some,” you breathe, struggling against the desire to push yourself into his palm.

You wonder if this is part of the ruse. If perhaps you feel so enamored by him because that’s what a guardian angel does. It encourages you to feel more susceptible. Maybe this pull to him is nothing more than magic.

Still, it pulls you, nonetheless.

“I want to kiss you, Lily,” he murmurs, moving closer until the front of his chest just brushes against your own. “And I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to do now.”

And you know the admonitions. Know the rules, the history between angels and fairies. You know that his very presence in this garden is inviting trouble into paradise, and yet…you have no yearning to tell him to go.

Because you don’t want him to go. You don’t want him to take his hand from your cheek. You don’t want him to leave this sacred orchard at all, and even though every fiber of your being, every nerve-ending, and every cell in your body is desperately attempting to warn you…you push into his touch, anyway.

“I think…you should kiss me,” you finally say, grasping onto his wrist.

This answer surprises you both. Neither one of you understand it or have the knowledge to comprehend the repercussions.

All you know is right here, right now. His hand on your face, his lips much too close, and his aura. His effortless ability to make you feel like you’ve just come home.

His thumb follows the outline of your cheekbone. “Are you sure?”

You squeeze his arm a bit tighter and nod once. “I don’t see why not. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He grins – a wide, toothy grin – and you decide that it might be the most beautiful thing in this whole garden. “What a fearless way of looking at it.”

With that, he kisses you. Presses his lips to yours and takes each strained breath from your lungs.

It’s hesitant and it’s unsure and it’s perfect. A moment in time meant just for the two of you, here beneath the large willow tree and the pale light of the moon.

Eventually, he pulls back, but he keeps himself close. His mouth moving to your cheek while your eyes fall shut.

And you drink him in. His scent, his skin. Memorizing each inch of the angel in your arms as you ask yourself what you did to deserve such wonder.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” he says. But it’s heavy, the way he speaks. “If I don’t return soon, they’ll come looking.”

You nod your understanding and swallow the lump in your throat. “Go,” you whisper. “You have souls to protect.”

This makes him chuckle before a wounded look of remorse settles on his expression, the palm of his hand slipping around the back of your neck.

He dips down to rest his forehead against yours, almost as though looking for balance. Stability amidst a sea of uncertainty, and you’re more than happy to offer it to him.

“My Lily,” he exhales, and the sound of your name on his tongue sends a shiver down your spine. “I am so glad my wings brought me to you.”

Smiling, you nuzzle the tip of your nose against his.

“May they bring you back again.”

The next parts will be all the angst and turmoil and fluff and smut, I swear, I just had to do the background first HAHAHA WE ARE THROWING ALL THE TROPES INTO ONE POT AND COOKIN' BABY!

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince

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thelov3lybookworm · 7 months

Note

shy!lucien x bold!reader, corruption. Reader is a shameless flirt and courtier in the nightcourt. She is rhysands sister, a part of the inner circle and is tasked with keeping lucien company when he and feyre first arrive in velaris. At first she plays with him and enjoys watching him squirm when she says the nastiest most flirty things infront of everyone. But then they truly fall inlove with eachother and reader finds out he’s a virgin. She takes his virginity and claims him as hers, promising that she’ll ruin anyone else for him🧎‍♀️👀👀 the mating bond snaps in place for them😋😋

Presents

Summary: Y/n loves making the new emissary to the night court flustered. The way he blushes, the way he sputters, hell, even the way he breathes is fascinating.

But she isn't ready for her heart to decide that flirting is not enough for her.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: hey! I loved the prompt! It was so fun to write 😌 I also, I felt like you wanted me to write smut, but I don't write smut, so I'm sorry 😔

Anyways enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He made a beeline towards Rhys's office in the river house. He had been relieved to find the house almost empty when he entered, knowing if the inner circle were present, the house wouldn't be so peaceful.

He was also hoping that she wasn't present in the house.

Rhysand's sister.

Y/n.

Over the months since he and Feyre had escaped the Spring Court, it was as if she had made him her target.

•○●⛦●○•

The first time, he had been lounging in his room a day after he and Feyre arrived in Velaris, thinking of the events in the past few days. He was feeling guilty for leaving his friend alone, wondering if he should have stayed back and faced Tamlin's wrath. That was all he could think about since the moment he stepped foot out of the spring court.

Lucien was about to scream at the top of his lungs in frustration, and that's when she decided to waltz in.

She wore a simple tunic and some loose pants, her hair shoved haphazardly into a bun. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the room he was staying in. She hadn't even bothered to knock, and once she had surveyed the room, she simply smiled at him and then plopped down on the small couch–which could probably accommodate only one illyrian, wings and all– as he watched from the bed, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Hi, I'm Y/n." She gave a tiny wave, lifting her legs to rest on one of the armrests of the tiny couch, her back resting on the other one as she draped her arm across the back of it.

He'd stared at her, dumbfounded.

"You are staring darling." She didn't even look at him, just continued getting comfortable on the couch.

He snapped his jaw shut, which he hadn't even realised was open. "I–I'm Lucien."

She grinned, finally looking at him. "I know sweets."

He wondered how to reply to that so the silence didn't become uncomfortable, his cheeks already starting to heat with embarrassment because he was caught staring. "Why–why are you here?"

He groaned inwardly. That was not how he was supposed to speak. Dammit, it was practically his job to know how to converse smoothly with people. He'd been a gods damned emissary for almost half his life.

She didn't seem to mind his words though, speaking happily. "I just thought you would be bored. I came to see if you needed company."

He raised his brows. "So have you seen if I need company?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I deem you in need of it."

This female was certainly weird. "I don't think that's true."

"Are you trying to kick me out?"

Shit.

"No–"

She laughed. "Don't worry darling. I won't take it personally."

He studied her for a moment. "Why are you really here?"

"I just told you."

"So you want me to believe that you aren't here so you could spy on me for them?"

She stared at him for a moment, the edges of her beautiful lips curling ever so slightly. "There is nothing they can make me do if I don't want to. And I would never want to spy on anyone. That's the darned spymaster's job. Not mine."

"But–"

He stopped when he noticed that her eyes were glazed over, and after a moment she heaved an irritated sigh.

"Brother's in need of me. Have to go. But don't you trick yourself into believing that I'll let you live in peace."

She got up, walking up to him instead of going to where the door was, and he watched as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The heat in his cheeks turned from embarrassment to the redness of fluster. She winked at him before turning away.

"Bye. Have a good day Lucien."

Butterflies erupted in his stomach when his name rolled off her lips, and he almost forgot to reply.

"B–bye." He spluttered.

Her eyes glittered. "You're cute."

Never in his life did he think someone would call him cute, but here he was.

Would she show up again? Or was this just some sick way of hers to pass the time?

He didn't know what to base his judgement off of, considering all he knew about the female was that she was Rhys's sister and she was as charming as he was.

•○●⛦●○•

And now the war was over, and the female still showed no signs of stopping.

He grunted softly at his thoughts, how all he could think about was her, all he could wonder about was what she would say when the met next.

But he was trying to distance himself from her.

Not because he didn't like her. No, he liked her, very much so. Probably a little too much for his own good.

But she was charming, and it seemed like second nature to her to flirt with people. He was pretty sure he probably had seen her flirting with the house at some point.

And it was a given that he might fall for her, he probably already had. And he didn't want to develop any more feelings in case she was just flirting with for fun and never had any interest in him. It would hurt him, which he didn't need more of.

So he stepped carefully towards Rhys's office, making sure he was making no noise, eyeing the staircase to make sure she wasn't about to flounce down it to greet him.

The plan was simple. Go meet Rhys, hand over the reports Lucien had with him, and go back to the mortal lands before the dinner and party for tonight's solstice began and wallow in sadness because he had no one.

No one to celebrate festivals with.

No one who cared enough for him to ask if he was doing well.

He had had only a couple of friends in his life who he was in contact with till this day. Vassa, Jurian, Tamlin and Feyre.

But Tamlin was in no position to care for and look over his own needs and health, let alone Lucien's.

And Feyre had her family to look after. So he had no one who cared for him, except Jurian and Vassa.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful. He was just lonely, and he oftentimes wondered what it would feel like to know someone cared if he lived or died.

He wondered how it would feel like to have a family like the inner circle to laugh and cry with.

He wondered what it would feel like to have a love like Rhys and Feyre's, Cassian and Nesta's.

But that's all he could do. All he ever did.

Wonder.

As soon as he reached the door of the office, he heaved a relieved sigh and then pushed them open.

And then he froze when he lifted his eyes.

There she was, her legs resting on the table as she sat in her brother's chair, flipping through a book in her lap.

She looked so careless, as if the world could go to hell and she would be sitting on the throne of hell itself, eating cookies and reading one of those romance novels she adored.

She didn't seem to notice him, her eyes glued to the book. So he decided it best if he left while she was busy, not wanting to get into a conversation with her that might potentially end up with him handing over his heart to be shattered.

Whatever was left of his broken heart anyway.

He took a silent step backwards, keeping an eye on her. And he found her lips lifting in a slow smile.

"Trying to run away Lucien? Come on, I thought you would have missed me." She pouted, slowly raising her eyes to his figure.

She didn't look into his eyes though. She leisurely raked her eyes over his form.

She hummed, seemingly satisfied.

"Y/n." He tried to mutter her name with as much detachment as possible.

Because he knew if he didn't, she would know exactly how much he missed her. Her voice when she talked to him and only him, how her eyes glittered when she found him blushing to one of her teasing remarks, how she boldly said the nastiest and filthiest things and made him wonder how she would sound like when he was deep–

No. He could not go to those moments now, he could not think of those thoughts now, because if he did, she would see how much he fucking. Missed. Her.

He had come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, knowing if he kept pushing them away, he would inevitably be hit by more feelings than he could handle all at the same time. So he had known in the budding stages of his love for her how much he truly desired her.

Lucien swallowed and decided to take a single step into the room and then another. Her eyes sparkled with happiness.

"How are you doing today Lucien?" She mumbled as he neared the desk.

"I'm good. How about you?"

"I'm perfect."

He knew she was. She was perfect and someone like him didn't deserve her.

He nodded. "Where is Rhysand?"

"Come on, you never ask me about myself these days. What's gotten into you?" She leaned back, her lower lip jutting out.

And all he could think about was how he wanted to bite–

"He is somewhere. Hopefully not dying. He told me a few moments before you arrived to retrieve the reports from you and that he'll be here soon enough."

He groaned inwardly. Everything was going just great. His mind and heart weren't helping much either.

"Are you staying for tonight?"

He was caught off guard by the sudden change in the conversation. "No."

Her brows furrowed and she lowered her legs. "Why not?"

"I don't know... I don't want to intrude–"

"Bullshit. You will not be intruding. We want you here."

He smiled sadly. "Do you though? Never felt that way."

Dammit. He was saying things that were supposed to be buried in his heart.

Y/n blinked. "What do you mean? When have I ever given you the impression–"

"Not you–"

But before anyone could speak another word, footsteps sounded nearby, followed by Rhysand's scent before he walked in.

"Oh hello Lucien. I hope you have the reports I asked for?"

Lucien nodded, relieved. "Yes. I have them."

"Good. Can you please move Y/n?"

She stood from Rhys's chair without ever breaking eye contact with Lucien.

"Hey Rhys, did you know that Lucien was planning on leaving after your meeting?"

Rhysand looked up at her, confused before he turned to Lucien. "Why is that Lucien? You should stay for dinner."

As soon as he said those words, he went back to rummaging in his desk drawer.

Lucien wanted to laugh. He was no kid. He knew Y/n had convinced Rhysand to say that.

He wasn't wanted here, no one except maybe Feyre and Y/n trusted or liked him. He wouldn't stay somewhere he wasn't wanted for more than necessary.

He felt a scratch on his mental walls, and he glanced at Y/n to find her staring intently at him. He opened a small window for her.

Yes?

I want you to stay. Please.

Are you sure? Lucien was still skeptical. Because if he stayed, he'll have to stand in a corner and watch the others have the time of their lives like a stranger gazing in from the window. Not to mention everyone might be uncomfortable and probably start pitying him because no one would have bought a gift for him.

Please Lucien. Stay for me.

"Yes, Lucien. Let's start the meeting. Y/n, could you please–"

"Yes." She stared at lucien for a moment, her eyes swirling with something Lucien didn't dare name, before she left the room and slipped out of his mind.

During the whole meeting, he was distracted. Wondering if he should stay or not.

By the end of the meeting, he knew what he wanted.

So he decided to stay.

Of course he did.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Saying she was excited would be an understatement. But at the moment, no better word came to mind as all that occupied the space in her head was him.

He had looked so good today. But he always looked that way.

Today it all felt different. She had come to terms a long time ago that what she felt for him was no matter of jest, and that she really did have feelings for him.

She didn't know why, but she'd had felt this strange pull towards him today when he first walked through the door of Rhys's office.

She continued to eye him from the corner of her eyes, her resolve hardening.

They were all seated around on the couches in the living room of the river house, talking and laughing and drinking while Lucien and Y/n sat near the window on the little loveseat. Lucien simply drank his wine and stared into the glass most of the time.

Everyone had been shocked when Lucien came in through the door and took a seat next to Y/n, Cassian and Rhys nodding to him once before turning back to their partners to continue their conversation. Feyre had just smiled and said hello to Lucien before digging into her meal.

And then during the whole dinner, everyone had ignored him, consciously or not, to make him think he wasn't welcome or not, she didn't know. Azriel, Amren and Mor even glaring or sneering at him when he wasn't looking. It pissed Y/n off so much she was ready to tear their heads off.

But there was one good thing that came out of them ignoring him. She had him all to herself for the night, and so far, she had succeeded in making him blush throughout the whole evening.

The whole time, she asked him about random things or flirted with him, but she was genuinely curious about his opinion on political and other matters. Talking to him was truly enlightening. He was a smart and intelligent guy.

Now as they sat nearby the windows, she came to a decision.

"Hey Lucien." She waited for him to look at her before continuing to practically whisper directly into his ear. "I have to show you something. Would you like to come with me?"

"Um... okay. Lead the way." He stood along with her and she led him towards the door to the foyer. But before they could leave, Rhys's voice interrupted them.

"Where are you going?"

"I was going to show him something." She answered honestly.

"Go after the presents have been opened. Come sit, we were just about to open them."

Y/n glanced at Lucien, who shrugged and stepped back into the room towards the seat they had occupied for hours. She decided to keep standing.

Everyone began opening their gifts one by one, and she could feel Lucien's discomfort coming off him in waves with each moment that passed.

Finally, everyone had opened their presents, and they turned to look at Y/n expectantly. She was the only one who hadn't opened her presents yet.

Rhysand piled all her presents near her neatly, but then the inner circle noticed that there was still a pile of presents apart from Y/n's nearby, and Cassian, being the busybody he was, stood to inspect.

"Who's are these?" He stepped closer and closer before Y/n interrupted him. He turned to look at her.

"Those are Lucien's."

Everything became silent as they stared at her.

She simply smiled and winnowed all the presents, hers and his, away to her room.

"I'll open my presents later. For now that you all have finished opening your gifts, I'll take my leave. I still do have to show him that thing." She smiled at Lucien, who gaped at her, his eyes wide.

She motioned at him to follow, and he did, after staring at her for a moment.

"Good night everyone. Happy solstice." She threw over her shoulder, already beginning to ascend the stairs before Lucien had even left the room.

He followed behind, quiet.

The two of them had just entered her room, the door closing behind him with a soft click before he caught her wrist in his hand, tugging lightly but firmly.

She glanced back, her skirts swishing around her legs as she stared up at the beautiful male. She was wearing a simple golden and white dress, which was mostly held by a ribbon on her back which was tied off in an elaborate bow.

She raised her brows, and his golden eye glanced behind her while his russet eye stayed on her. She knew what had caught his attention. The piles of gifts she had dropped near her window.

"What– whose..."

She grinned softly and shrugged, letting his hand stay where it was on her wrist and tugging him towards window. "All yours. Open them."

"Are they all from you?"

She shrugged again as the two of them settled on the floor and he pulled a small gift towards him, examining him. "Yes."

"Why? Is it because I don't– because I would get uncomfortable? You do know that was not the reason I didn't want to stay–"

"I do. And trust me when i say that I didn't get them for that reason. I... I've been collecting these gifts for you since after a month of meeting you. Never had the courage to give them to you. What better time to gift them than solstice?"

"Why..." His voice sounded choked off, and his eyes were filled with emotion. She put a gentle hand on his arm, smiling softly.

"Because, despite what you believe Lucien, not everyone hates you. I don't hate you. I like you, very much so." Then, in a quieter voice, she added. "I love you."

He swallowed harshly, looking at a loss for words. "I... you should use that word carefully. You shouldn't be throwing it around like its nothing."

She searched his eyes– or eye. "Why is that so hard to believe Lucien? That someone might love you?"

He looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the box in his hands. "It just is."

She stared at him a moment longer, knowing what she was about to do would be reckless. But she didn't care.

Not as she crashed her lips against his.

Not as she heard and felt his breath hitch, as she felt his lashes closing and tickling her cheeks slightly, as he slowly kissed her back.

She didn't care that this was reckless as his hands travelled to her neck and waist, pulling her into his lap, and she went happily.

Despite being the one who begun this kiss, she immediately felt nervous. What if she had pushed herself onto him and he didn't want to kiss her?

So she pulled away just as quickly, and he looked at her with his brows furrowed.

"Is everything alright?"

"Um... I should have asked–"

"Oh shut it." He mumbled before tugging her closer and kissing her again.

It felt like they kissed for a whole eternity, and she wanted to keep going, but the two of them needed air, ribbons needed to be unwound and the presents needed to be opened.

So she reluctantly pulled away, smiling.

"We need to open the presents." She reminded him, and he blinked as if he had forgotten.

"You want me to open them now?"

"Yes. After that, you can have me as your present too." She winked at him as his face reddened. She was about to climb off his lap, but he held her back.

"Stay there love." He whispered huskily in her ear as he began opening the presents.

She didn't move, more than happy to stay where she was.

He opened the presents with feral urgency, ripping the papers away and looking at what was inside. And despite the beastly way in which he opened them, his face was soft, as if he was shocked by each one that he opened. She put months of thoughts into them, getting the stuff that would mean the most to him.

After he was done, he shoved his hand in one of his pockets and pulled out a sleek and slender box.

He simply handed it to her, jerking his chin at it. She opened it tenderly, gasping when she saw the necklace.

It was a simple one, with a simple thin chain and a teardrop pendant the size of her thumb's nail encased in a silver frame. It looked ordinary, but she knew it was no ordinary jewellery.

It was a magical one.

A few months ago, she had forced Lucien to come shopping with her, and they had gone into a shop of enchanted items. There, she had spied a pair of necklaces, which were said to be connected to each other. All you had to do was blow a little bit of your magic, no matter how insignificant, into the pendant and give it to your partner, and the pendant would turn red whenever you were in danger, alerting your partner.

She had wanted to get it, but she didn't have anyone to wear it with. So she had dragged Lucien away.

Now as she sat staring at the same necklace, she wondered if he had the other one. Sure enough, when she glanced at him, he pulled away the lapels of his tunic to show her the pendant that rested on the carved planes of his chest.

She laughed and tackled him into a hug before demanding that he put the necklace on her. He did, grinning as he clasped the necklace on her neck. He place a suggestive kiss on the back of her neck, reminding her of what she'd promised.

And Y/n always kept her promises.

"Umm... Y/n? Before we do anything, I just wanted to tell you that... I– I never..."

She cocked her head. "You never what Lucien?"

He glanced at her bed, and she realised.

"You've never slept with anyone?" She asked incredulously, the corners of her lips lifting.

"Don't laugh." He mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

"I'm not laughing, I just can't believe no one has ever lured you into their beds yet."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is."

"It is?" He finally met her eyes.

"Because now I get to have you all to myself. I'll ruin everyone else for you." She swore.

And, as said before, she kept her promises.

•○🌑○•

Y/n blinked her eyes open, finding herself cuddled into a warm body, her head resting on someone's chest.

Lucien.

He was already awake, moving his fingers through her hair. She smiled sleepily up at him, earning a chuckle in response. She felt the butterflies in their stomach flutter their wings.

Her body was running on only two hours of sleep, having stayed awake with him, but it was all so worth it.

"I should probably get going." He murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Why?"

"Rhysand will have my ass if he finds me in your bed."

"He can go to hell." She said, turning onto her back.

He laughed quietly. He turned onto his side so he was facing her, gently flicking her nose. "That would make you a bad sister."

"I don't care." She mumbled.

He grinned. "That's sad."

"Let's not talk about him now. Tell me, did you have fun last night?" She asked wickedly.

Instantly, a blush stole over his cheeks. She eyed his chest, the golden skin stretching deliciously over his taut muscles.

"You know–" She began, lifting her eyes back to his, but then paused. As soon as their eyes met, a resounding snap echoed through her being.

She stared and stared at this amazing male, who she never thought she would deserve, now connected to her eternally with a golden string. He stared right back, a flurry of emotions swirling through his eye. Shock, happiness, wonder, awe, lust and what not.

She tried to lightly tug on the golden string, trying to gauge his reaction.

He gasped, his hand flying to his chest. His eyes lit up with an inner fire, boring into hers, which were slowly filling with tears.

"Mate. You– you're my mate..." She whispered, not daring to speak louder as if it would shatter this beautiful moment.

His lips slowly lifted, a crease appearing in his cheek. "Mate."

But of course, her brother loved to interrupt her any chance he got, and he chose exactly that moment to slam her bedroom door open.

Lucien was quick, throwing the blanket by their waists over her body.

Rhysand froze, staring at Lucien and then Y/n. Whatever was visible of her anyway.

Y/n smiled sheepishly, trying to find a way to calm Rhysand before he erupted in rage. "Hi Rhysie–"

"What's he doing here?" He asked coldly. Y/n sighed.

"That's none of your business."

"It is when I find my little sister in bed with someone like–"

She narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me? What do you mean?"

He released a breath, rubbing his eyes. "Look Y/n... first of all, Lucien, would you mind leaving us–"

"He's not going anywhere." She grasped Lucien's hand, almost all of his fingers covered in rings, just that simple touch shooting desire up her spine. The recently discovered mating bond made it no easier.

Rhys clenched his jaw. "Look sister–"

"Okay, imagine this Rhysie, I come into your room one day, and tell Feyre to leave the room so I can talk to you. Would you let her leave?" She wanted this conversation done with. The faster Rhys left the room, the quicker she'd be able to get to her mate and the desire itching at her skin.

"That's different. She's my mate–"

"And he's mine."

The silence was deafening, and no one made an atrempt to break it. She glanced at Lucien, who had a smug smile filled with pride on his face as he gazed at her.

Finally, Rhys spoke. "We need to talk."

"Later." She could already smell Lucien's intoxicating arousal.

Her brother looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I–then I guess I'll leave?"

"Please." She glared at him, and he practically sprinted out the door.

When she glanced at Lucien, he murmured, "That was hot."

She giggled, tugging him forward by his hand that she was still clasping. He complied, leaning into her and kissing her slowly and deeply.

They only pulled back when it was almost impossible to keep going without breathing and he grinned devilishly. And cauldron if that didn't have her insides in a mess.

"Ready for round two?"

She was.

•○🌑○•

General taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless

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carionto · 2 months

Text

Detaining a Human

It did not take long for the first Human law enforcement officers aboard a Coalition station to show just how powerful and effective they are against most other species. It did take a while before a Human offender appeared who resisted.

He was a rowdy fellow, coming from something called a bachelor's party. For a multitude of reasons, he seemed incapable of remaining quiet, and while noise dampening comes standard for everyone's personal suits and helmets, Human vocal ability and this specific ones lung capacity were of a potent caliber.

Mere moments after the first complaint, a squad of officers arrived on scene and approached to apprehend the disturber of peace.

The Human officer suggested to the others to leave this one to them, and after an initial failure to communicate, they called for additional Human backup. While waiting for the extra muscle, the two Humans exchanged what I've heard described as a staring contest.

Upon looking away from the officer and spotting the approaching backup, the rowdy Human got... excited? Without uttering a word, the on scene officer made a few hand gestures to the approaching ones and both immediately split apart to encircle the troubleseeker and prepared to draw their tasers.

One final failed attempt to communicate and de-escalate the situation, and all chaos broke loose. The loudmouth exclaimed jovially as all three officers drew their tasers. One hit a less protected part of his body and momentarily caused him to falter, but whatever combination of substances were coursing through his system allowed him to shrug it off and lunge for the nearest officer.

We've seen Humans fight before, but before it was one on one and both involved parties were willing to inflict harm on one another. Usually these were over in moments.

The effort the three officers exerted to not cause harm to the offender and prevent him from causing harm to them was intense to witness. Grabs, shouting, failed cuffing, more taser shots, and still the confrontation lasted for nearly six full minutes.

Even after getting him cuffed after two, he continued to resist feverishly, kicking and screaming to the point even our special equipment was struggling to prevent damage to our ears. Yet the Humans were right next to him, unfazed, one even had their helmet kicked off during the scuffle.

To note, this was not a particularly outstanding example of Humanity, in fact, he was clearly smaller and less physically fit than the officers. The power of an unrestrained Human not fully in charge of his decision making in the moment, and three Humans whose duty is to be restrained.

Miraculously, despite all the kicking, screaming, tasing, and grappling, the medical report showed that the criminal suffered only minor bruising and a sprained ankle, while the officers also only had a few small bruises, nothing to impair them from performing their duty the next day.

In comparison, another incident involved two drunk Humans brawling and both ended up in hospital beds for numerous fractures, a broken leg for one, a dislocated shoulder for the other, and far too many bruises, cuts and scratches to count. Their fight lasted less than a minute.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #carionto #humanity fuck yeah #still on that true crime binge #write what you know

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aurora-starwars · 9 months

Note

Could I request an Anakin X reader where reader hasn’t been sleeping so he stays with her and they just talk? Something fluffy

Sleep Is The Best Meditation

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x fem!senator!reader

Summary: reader has a hard time falling asleep, Anakin helps by talking with her

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None <3 Just fluff

A/n: I am so sorry it has been so long since I have posted! But I think I am getting back into the grove of it! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy! <3

Masterlist

The cold nights on Coruscant were restless for [Name]. Nights spent tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. Nights spent trying to get out of her own head and get some sleep.

It hadn’t always been like this, her sleeps used to be peaceful, leaving her filled with energy by morning. The sheets of her bed used to cocoon her in herself, transforming her into a butterfly when the sunrises. Now, they feel like they are trying to swallow her whole, like a moth drowning in darkness.

This night was no different, leaving [Name] lying in bed staring up at the ceiling. Today had been busy, the entire day spent conversing with senators and avoiding death by assassination; something that was becoming more and more prevent for the young senator. It would have been expected for [Name] to be tired, completely exhausted, wiped out even. But as [Name] continued to stair into the ceiling, occasionally moving parts of her body in and out of the sheets to regulate the temperature, she couldn’t find it in herself to lose herself to sleep’s warm embrace.

She took a deep breath, one that felt like she was cleaning out her lungs, and started to think about the Jedi standing guard out side of her room.

Anakin was a tall, strong Jedi who was respectful and protective. He had accompanied her to quite a few events now and had become something of a friend to [Name]. In the last few months, [Name] has had quite a few assignation threats as well as attempts, her advisors believe it to be because of the brilliant progress she has been making in the senate. And because of this, the republic has sent a Jedi Knight for her protection.

This Jedi Knight was the one and only Anakin Skywalker.

It was not unheard of for the Jedi Order to send a Jedi to protect a senator, but what was more and more peculiar was that the only Jedi that seemed to come to her aid was Anakin. [Name] had no say in which Jedi would be her personal protection at each event, so [Name] figured it would be who ever was free and near. But time after time it was Anakin that would be the one at the sidelines watching the crowd with distrustful eyes. It had become such a running joke between [Name]’s handmaidens that she was starting to suspect that was Anakin’s doing.

Another sigh left her lips. Anakin had become a frequent subject on her mind, especially on nights like these. Through the last few months, she found herself imagining the Jedi Knight as she lay in bed. What his hair felt like. What he would look like in combat, sweat dripping down his face. What his lips tasted like. She would imagine what he would do if he knew she couldn’t sleep. Sometimes the thoughts would lull her to sleep but, just like this night, most nights it would just send her in a spiral.

A knock interrupted her thoughts, causing [Name] to sit up quickly.

“Yes?” she called.

Through the muffle of the door, she could make out a quiet, “Can I come in?” There was no doubt who the voice belonged to.

[Name] thought for a moment, but the answer was simple.

“Yes.”

Anakin opened the door slowly in an attempt to be quiet, but the door’s hinges squeaked as it opened, and dim light poured in, making [Name] shield her eyes before Anakin closed it.

[Name]’s once adjusted eyes were now completely blinded by the light, making Anakin hard to see in the darkness. She didn’t know exactly where in the room he was, but due to the lack of sound, she could tell he hasn’t moved.

“What can I help you with, General Skywalker?” her voice was filled with the usual poise of a senator and her back straightened with the reminder of formalities.

“Please, just call me Anakin,” His voice is calm, low and if you listen close, careful.

“Okay, Anakin,” There was a hint of a smile in her voice, the formality of a senator falling away.

There was a beat of silence, before [Name] heard the rustling of Anakin approaching.

“I take it you can’t sleep?”

“How did you know?” [Name] spoke softly, surprised but mostly curious.

“Jedi have their ways,” There was a slight tease in his voice, and as her eyes adjusted, she could just make out a smirk on his face.

Anakin stood just a few feet away from where she sat, the outline of his body seemed awkward and so she gestured for him to sit down by her feet at the edge of her bed.

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for quite a few months now, and I fear that it is going to begin to impact my work in the senate.”

Anakin hums, taking a second to think. It was silent for a moment while Anakin did what [Name] assumed was a Jedi-force thing.

“There is something on your mind, something plaguing your heart,” Anakin spoke softly, [Name] felt as if he was reading her like she was words in a poem.

“The reason you can’t sleep is you need to accept what is on your mind and in your heart and embrace the truth that it might hold.”

[Name] smiles at this, while she might not understand the wisdom completely, she understood the sentiment and appreciated Anakin’s comfort.

There was another beat of silence and Anakin took this as his signal to leave.

“Wait,” [Name] whispered when she felt Anakin’s weight leave the bed.

“Yes?” His voice was at peace but there was a raise in his voice that almost made [Name] think he wanted her to object.

“Could you please stay? Keep talking to me?” Her voice was unsure and wavering, but Anakin didn’t have such issues, quickly making his way back to his spot.

“I like when you are around,” Anakin wouldn’t have heard her if he wasn’t so close.

“Yeah?” There was a smile in Anakin’s voice, an ease.

“Yeah,” [Name] giggled softly, her smile reached her eyes as she stared at the dark outline of the young Jedi.

“Just like having me around this much? Can’t part with me even at night?”

[Name] rolled her eyes, and although Anakin couldn’t see it, she had a feeling he knew.

“Says you! You are the one who keeps choosing to be the one to maintain my protection when I am in danger!” [Name] snickers, hiding her smirk behind her hand.

Anakin lets out a mock gasp, “So you knew!”

[Name] only giggled, his tone was teasing, holding truth and a lightness.

“Know what? That you can’t get enough of me?”

“You got me, Senator [Name]. You have figured me out.” He put his hands up, joining in on the light laughter.

A yawn escaped [Name] after the laughter died down.

“You get some rest now, Senator. You have a big day tomorrow.” Anakin sat up as [Name] began to lie down again, her eyes becoming heavy.

As he was walking towards the door, [Name] let out a quiet, “Will you be there?”

Anakin smiled to himself. “Yes, [Name]. Yes, I will,” He said, opening the door.

“Good,” She mumbled, Anakin whispered her goodnight wishes before closing the door.

That night [Name] had the best sleep she has had in a year.

A/n: Thank you for reading! <3 Please feel free to request! Please have a look at the guidelines first. <3

Master-list

Taglist: @luvlykrispy

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botboots · 8 months

Text

unfamiliar familiarity [mirage x reader]

a/n: very soft. very short. hes all thats been on my mind since rotb and i needed to get some of my silly little feelings about this man out of my system. its 6am as i finished this & am posting and its not proofread yet so good luck <3

warnings: none word count: 505 (GN reader)

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

It was quiet.

The air was still - only flickers of soft wind caressing your skin every now and then. Green leaves above you rustled with it, along with the tall grass only a few feet away. You were comfortably warm sitting under the summer shade of a tree.

Quiet was nice, you thought, settling against the cool metal at your side and letting your eyes fall shut with a deep exhale. A servo rested on your shoulder and you hummed.

You hadn’t felt at peace like this in… however long it had been.

Too long.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughtless trance by the quiet murmur of your name. Lazily angling your head back, you looked up at the familiar face above you. He observed you for a moment, bright blue optics flicking over your features before soft metal lips parted to give you a soft grin. A warm feeling bubbled in your chest, spreading through to the rest of your body.

Safe, you thought.

Mirage made you feel safe.

“Somethin’ on your mind, pretty?”

A quick huff of a laugh left your lungs. You didn’t reply, just taking in his face; eyes, nose, cheeks and lips. Speaking of…

Lifting an arm, you made a grabbing motion with your hand. Like a child, you knew, but neither of you really cared too much. The mech eagerly lowered his helm, resting it in your outstretched hand. Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly to focus as you reached up with your other hand, thumbs grazing the sides of his face. His metal was mostly smooth - the occasional scratch or scar littered across it. Despite his best efforts to keep his finish clear and shiny, you actually liked all of the marks that were either too small or too deep to buff out. You thought they were pretty on him. You thought he was pretty.

The metal under your palms seemed to warm the longer you stared. When your previous thought returned to you, you gently tugged his helm towards you. He got the message and leaned further down, face mere inches from yours. Eyes flicking from optics to lips, you didn’t waste any more time in meeting him the rest of the way.

Your lips met. He sighed into the kiss, lifting a servo to rest it on top of your smaller hand. There was nothing desperate or rushed in it. It was soft. It was nice. Thoughts melted away as you closed your eyes, running your other hand over his jaw and just focusing on the feeling of him.

Even as you broke the kiss for air you just kept looking at him, caught in the most unfamiliar but simultaneously most familiar set of eyes you’d ever known.

The giant mechanical alien from somewhere out there in the universe who had been the only one to ever make you feel so genuinely safe and cared about tilted his helm.

“So… this definitely means I’m your favorite, right?”

You scoffed, giving him a light swat, “You always were, stupid.”

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #mirage x reader #transformers mirage #transformers rotb #rotb #rise of the beasts #rotb mirage #rotb mirage x reader #tf rotb #tf mirage

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amourlyns · 2 months

Text

❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which john price and simon riley discuss the past, present and future over a late night smoke.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of war, death, body horror, mental illness, child death.

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: inspired by this post. enjoy some angsty, but soft john and si. added my own personal touches, so i like to think john went through something similar and that’s why he’s so greatly effected. + he has 2 kids, mac n rosie with his ex—wife clara. dedicated to @whittywhitty and @mawvax ‘s comic.

⟡ ⠀ | Words are never exchanged during these kinds of nights. Instead, smoke fills the space where words would lay.

There’s a bitter chill in the air that settles into John’s bones. Making a home in his marrow. Tonight, he’s accompanied by Ghost. Of course, Simon Riley would always be more than a phantom. John actively told him that— yet.

Yet it doesn’t click.

Because phantoms do not desire eulogies from their Captain, and phantoms do not seek absolution. They simply be. Somehow, Simon Riley does this all at once. Despite the façade, he’s still a man. A man who feels, a man of flesh and blood. There’s a twinge of guilt that spikes through John’s veins, he already knows that it’s too late to speak on such matters— too late for apologies on events he could not stop.

But he speaks anyways.

Some part of John really believes that Simon, not (Ghost) could read him like a book. Or at least try to. Before John can utter an apology, Simon’s gaze already settles on his superior. He’s expecting something, either words or actions. John realizes this, and speaks at once.

❛❛ I’M SORRY.. ❜❜

John shifts his weight, leaning into one leg. Simon glances towards John for a total of three grand seconds. He notices these three things. One, John Price’s brows furrow inwards when he’s contemplating something. Two, he gnaws on his beloved Clara Villa cigar when he’s stretched too far. Three, John Price loves too much.

It’s still profound to Riley, having someone apologize to him. Some nasty, ugly part of his mind tells him to be apathetic. To play dumb. John does not mean it, nor does Simon deserve such a thing. An apology, empathy, or some kind of grand understanding.

He cracks anyways.

❛❛ (…) WHAT FOR ? ❜❜

John is obviously at a loss, his cigar burns out. Ash settles on the tray, glinting in the moonlight. He lights another, gnaws, and smokes. Notes of leather and light maple stains John’s lungs. A bitter char wafts in the air. The stars seem to illuminate the hazy night.

They sit in silence for a few moments. John eventually starts up again, and Simon listens closely.

❛❛ I WASN’T THERE, SI. I WASN’T THERE WHEN YOU LOST (…) YOU. WHEN YOU DIED. WHEN YOU LOST EVERYTHING. ❜❜

Price’s words echo into the endless night, accompanied by cicadas and their hymns, the chirp of crickets follow moments after. Then, there’s silence. Is it really silence? There’s so many unspoken words that burn like an uproarious flame between the pair.

So many apologies John could say, so many stories he could say and tell. John wants to tell Simon that no one should ever experience such a thing, and how he’s a good kid. John wants to tell Simon that it’s not his fault.

And if John could, he’d explain how the soil of your own grave never leaves the ridges of your fingertips. And how you can never scrub the grime off, no matter how hard you try. How silence is the most jarring thing to a man, yet, the most peaceful. How being a living, walking, deadman changes you.

To be a living, breathing body. Rotting away like a real corpse. John thinks, and he wonders. What kind of man has the stomach to rip a jaw, and dig his way out?

Simon has his own thoughts. He ponders on his next words, and what to say to get his Captain out of this whump. It’s uncharacteristic, to see a man of John’s status and stature oh, so defeated. His shoulders are slumped, eyes are set on the view below. Obscured by the dark night, but undoubtedly somber and solemn.

Simon knows that Price’s life revolves around humans. He knows the Captain has seen terrors no man should lay his eyes upon. Simon has heard the stories and he’s seen John’s scars. Small glimpses into the window of his life. Simon knows John is lucky enough to have a family, two kids. Mac and Rosie. A loving, supportive woman in his life— his ex—wife Clara.

And yet, despite this. Simon could sense that John Price could never be a gentle man, because he never had a gentle man in his life. He only knows how to chew on marrow and sink his canines into everything and everyone.

Simon only knew this because they were two of a kind. They aren’t unfamiliar with the sight of blood spilling from orifices of a cadaver, decomposing and becoming one with the earth. Or, the gore of a body festering in puss. The corroding of flesh, and necrosis of the limbs due to an untreated infection on the field. Simon and Price have laid their eyes on parts that are meant to be hidden away by flesh and muscles.

These parts, the innermost parts, are always shocking when displayed in such raw, open spaces, like the battlefields and deserts, where bodies are picked apart by vultures and crows, but Price and Simon no longer flinches at twisted body parts and decaying flesh. They have seen far too much of it to be upset by it anymore.

But, Simon does not know how the rawness of all it washes over John, despite the disfigurement of each of these bodies (was) a living, breathing, person. Whether or not they were civilians, enemies or enemies.

John’s sense of mortality is never numbed, or dismissed. Instead, he weighs on it much, much, more. Death within his field of work is something he knows will happen. There’s no point of price diminishing these feelings.

John Price has children, he has a family. He’s ready for his own death, but are they?

Of course he’s no saint, he knows this and refuses to be called such. He has the blood of mothers, fathers, and children in his hands. He suffers each day for it. Flashing visions of gaunt faces and vacant eyes staring back at him each night. Spindly fingers that wrap around him in the night.

John is a man of war. A man who chooses the lesser evil.

The sensation of Simon’s arm on his shoulder brings him back to earth, a sense of reassurance. A silent apology.

❛❛ PRICE. YOU PUT TOO MUCH ON YOUR SHOULDERS. YOU WERE THERE WHEN I CAME BACK. YOU NEVER LEFT (…) WHEN EVERYONE THOUGHT OF ME AS A LOST CAUSE, TOO ANGRY, TOO INSANE. YOU GAVE ME A SECOND CHANCE IN THE ONE FOUR ONE. ❜❜

❛❛ YOU COULD EVEN SAY— IT WAS A (PRICE)LESS GIFT ❜❜

Simon faces John now. Stubbing out his cigarette, to grace John with a timid smile. John blinks once, then twice, then thrice. A smile, a smile from Simon Riley. John could cry, really. Granted, his eyes are already watering up from Simon’s speech. He fights the urge to laugh at that horrible pun. Maintaining a brave face for Simon.

❛❛ THAT (…) THAT WAS SO BAD. ❜❜

John chokes out, the feeling of Simon’s hand on his shoulder remains. He’s rooted now, feeling as bit lighter than before.

❛❛ AH, NOT MY BEST. ❜❜

Simon chortles, a retort dies on his tongue. For once, Simon feels lighter too. He’s ran out of smokes now. The only thing they could do was watch the sun rise back up in the horizon for tonight. And exchange a few stories, or accept the silence.

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andofone · 11 months

Text

SNS fic rec

I have found lots of SNS fics that I think deserve even more love and recognition, so buckle in and here we go!

-PS, if you don’t want your fic on this list, I will take it off.

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O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou an idiot? by Skyheaven

Naruto thought he could impress his crush by landing the role of Romeo in their school play. With Sakura playing Juliet, it would be the perfect way to get close to her. So how is it that he ended up being forced to play the modern version titled Romeo and Julian with his arch rival Sasuke instead?

(It’s a full, flushed out fic. It was a joy to read through)

(This is part two - a POV change to see what Sasuke is thinking, I strongly recommend reading after the first.)

And Julian is the moon by Skyheaven.

Ever wonder what Sasuke went through when he got stuck playing the romantic lead together with Naruto in their school play about Romeo and Julian? Here's the answer.

A pov change of the fic 'Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou an idiot?'

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The Frog Dealer by lilypheria

Naruto’s trusty frog wallet breaks down after years of faithful service, and someone delivers a new one to his office. Naruto is elated, not caring if it’s proper for the Seventh Hokage of Konoha to wander around with a wallet like that. But then he starts to get even more deliveries to his office—frog-shaped keychains, fridge magnets, everything you can think of.

Naruto has no clue who has found out about his affection towards frogs. But the gift giver is closer than he thinks…

(It’s a adorable one-shot. What else could you possibly want.)

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Unrequited: sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't by KizuKatana

Naruto hates to hurt people's feelings. So when Hinata puts him on the spot about dating her, he doesn't want to come straight out and tell her he doesn't like her that way. Instead, he comes up with a poorly thought out idea to tell her he is dating someone already. All he needs to do to convince her is to show her a photo of the guy. He just needs to get a picture of someone so ridiculously hot she will know it's hopeless. He actually has someone in mind, a guy he'd had a one-sided thing for from his gym. Although, the guy is sort of an ass and probably wouldn't agree to posing for a picture. Naruto decides to ask him anyway. What's he got to lose?

(Another wonderful, simple one-shot. Easy and very nice to digest.)

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In Good Company by weialala

This will sound a little ridiculous, no matter how Sasuke phrases it. I see dead people is embarrassingly tacky, and I'm half-spirit seems like something Sakura might say when she's stoned sky high. So he settles for a shrug.

(This is a gem of a fic. Highly recommend.)

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Iced coffee with extra base by Dotec_1

Working in a cafe certainly isn’t the worst thing, that is if you find a certain raven a few tables down.

(Not too long, just 25,000 words and a good plot.)

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Fire & Wind by Cyllia

Wind and fire: it's the most powerful combination of elements there was. So when Sasuke, the most talented fire elementalist in his year, pairs with Naruto, who has the greatest air element seen in centuries, they should've been the most formidable team in history. Yet they can't seem to win one match.

(OH MY GOD, okay, this has got to be one of my favorites on this list. And these are all some of my favorite.)

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all i want to do, just like this by lunoiere (aeon_uriel)

"Good morning," he whispered, content, and peaceful.

Naruto's nose twitched, still asleep. His lips were pursed to form a pout that somehow looked even more childish in this state.

Sasuke's smile got wider and wider and something in his chest bloomed and exploded.

Unbidden, a thought passed by: he loved that man so much it was unreal.

Sasuke gets another reminder that waking up with arms around his waist and the smell of sunshine filling his lungs means opening his eyes to yet another good dream.(Because Naruto is there and he’s never leaving.)

---

I hope this gives you some good reads!

And if you want more, check out another SNS rec I created here

#ao3 #ao3 fic rec #sasunaru #SasuNaruSasu #sns #ao3 is why i dont sleep #fic rec #naruto #Sasuke Uchiha #sasuke is amazing #Naruto Uzumaki #narusasu #amazing things #some of these people should be authors fr #enjoy

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mmkin · 4 months

Text

Shark Bait - Arlong x Reader

Arlong x Fish/Human Hybrid AFAB Reader

Content Warning – This is a darker story than my other Arlong Pirates related work (and has no connection to said works, consider this my dark Arlong AU) and was inspired from a prompt/headcanons from @sheisabitchbicth here on Tumblr and contains elements of yandere, dubcon, and noncon. (and yes, this work is 18+/NSFW!)

If no likey, there’s the Back button. I have other OP stories or other works that may be more your taste.

If you like this kind of thing though, then read on. I’ve been wanting to do something dark for a bit, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, so have fun with this guilty pleasure project of mine :) All feedback is very much appreciated. (Update - the story is now available to read on my AO3. The story will be updated here and there, follow where you wish. Enjoy!)

Shark Bait - Part 1

You had never met another fishperson in your life until Arlong’s crew came across you. Your parents were slaves who had escaped together, using their combined skills to make their way out. From what your mother told you, they became friends while they were slaves, and after their escape they were lovers for a while. Eventually, they parted, though on amicable terms. Your mother never told your father that she was pregnant, though.

She did not want to return to her family or native land, though. So she found an island that seemed out of the way, and settled there. People felt bad for her for being a former slave, so when you were born, they looked in the other direction, so you for the most part led a quiet life. Your father’s heritage gave you the ability to breathe underwater, so you would go fishing, or search for various items that would augment your mother’s meager income. Sometimes you might help out neighbors in a similar manner, so even though you were half fishwoman, you found some acceptance in your community.

By the time you were in your late teens, you were used to most people not noticing your gills, or the color of your skin. You stayed out of trouble and often out of sight. If you dressed appropriately and wore a large hat or hood, you could escape the notice of Marines who touched upon your island during their trips. It was a quiet life. Were you happy? Sometimes you were not sure. As you’d gotten older, you wanted to know more about your father’s people, and there was only so much your mother could tell you.

So one day, you’re out swimming, and looking for treasures that you can bring home. Since you’ve pretty much picked clean the areas closest to the island, you’ve had to venture out further, which hey, it’s great swimming practice. You feel at peace in the sea, feeling it move through your lungs as you move through the water. You know there are fish- and merfolk and Sea Kings and beasts out there, but at the moment it’s easy to imagine that you are alone in this world. You drift past the coral, admiring it.

Suddenly, you see movement out of the corner of your eye and turn around to see what you are almost certain is another person darting off in the murky distance, if it’s not a large fish. A few of the people on the island dive, but you know that none can dive this far or deep. So maybe it’s a big fish that would probably be a welcome meal for your mother. You’re debating whether you should go after it before a shadow passes overhead, and you look up, wondering if it’s another fish, when in shock you realize it’s a ship. You were so absorbed in your work that you’d failed to notice the coming of a ship, nor did you expect one as the Marines did not come by often. You drift towards the hulking dark shape before something much, much closer swoops down in front of you, close enough that you feel the water displacement against your body as he fills the space.

You see clear blue eyes and the longest nose you’ve ever seen, and there is a grin full of the sharpest teeth you’ve ever seen or even imagined. A short shriek bursts from your throat before a wave of lightheadedness overcomes you.

The next moments are a haze as you try to fight passing out. You are pulled to a strong chest before you are dragged to the surface, a red sun filling much of your vision as you stare dumbly at the chest of the person who’s taken you. You gasp softly as the two of you break the surface of the water, and your limbs hang limp as you’re hauled onto a ship that is most decidedly not a Marine ship. Or even a merchant ship, from the looks of it.

As your head lolls back, you get another look at the face of your captor. No, you didn’t imagine that serrated nose, or the mouth full of sharp teeth, and you start to panic, finding your strength and starting to push against him.

“Oh, we have a feisty one here,” Sawnose chortles, letting you go for but a moment before he grabs your wrists in his large hand, hoisting your hands above your head, leaving you helpless under his scrutiny, and he is not the only one staring.

“Let me go!” you cry, trying to kick him as other men surround you, with a variety of skin colors, some of them having fins, or other fishlike features, in a wide assortment. One thing they all have in common – and you do with them – are their gills. If you were not so frightened and anxious, you might be reveling in the fact that you’re finally meeting other fishmen for the first time in your life.

You are lifted off your feet, and can not help but feel like a hooked fish that is being held up by a fisherman for inspection or display. You try a few more kicks, but Sawnose is incredibly tall and his arm is long enough to keep you at just enough distance to keep you from any effective kick. He laughs as your feet graze his upper legs and stomach.

Your next instinct is to curl up as you see the hungry gazes that are fixed on your damp and near-nude form. You’ve found that diving is more comfortable the less clothes you wear, so you’re in a tank top and briefs, which both cling to you, your net bag hanging empty at your side. The way you’re being handled makes you wonder if these fishmen might try to sell you into slavery. You know your mother will worry about that if you do not come home.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” Sawnose asks with an amused tone. You try to be silent, but he snarls at you, and it’s obvious he could cause serious injury, so you have no choice but to answer his question, and any other that he wants to ask you. You confirm that you are indeed the child of a fishperson. When asked what that parent’s name was, you utter it, and his eyes widen.

You are dropped to the deck, wincing as you land on the bare wood. It is then that you learn that your father was once a crewmate of the man who’d just kidnapped you. For a moment you feel your heart leap up in your throat. Will you have the chance to meet him? But your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach when you learn he’s been dead for years. You start crying, and surprisingly, Sawnose kneels next to you, stroking your hair.

“I want to go home,” you plead.

“Silly girl. You are home,” he asserts as you give him a confused stare. He informs you that since you are the offspring of someone from his crew, it means you belong to the crew, and to its captain above all else. So… this means you’re not going to be sold into slavery? You’re just going to be conscripted into a pirate crew?

Fuck. Your mind races as you wonder how you can find your way out of this predicament. Because this can not fucking happen to you. Just because your father was a pirate… a father you’ve never met, who’d never even held you in his arms after you were born. What cruel fate has wrought this?

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” you manage to inquire as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms to maintain as much modesty as you can. It’s one thing to dive near-naked, when there is no one else around to impede on your enjoyment of the sea, and another to be ogled at by so many eyes. When’s the last time these men saw a woman?

Sawnose laughs, and introduces himself and his crew. He is the mighty captain Arlong the Saw, leader of the Arlong Pirates, and Lord of the East Blue. Your island is his next target in the expansion of his territory, and his men have been scouting around it for a couple of days, staying out of sight. You are an unexpected – but not unwelcome, Arlong assures you – find. Since you’re now part of the crew, you will be spared the tribute that Arlong and his crew are going to extract from the island.

Your thoughts fly to your mother. As a single mother, your mother never had much money. Usually there was food in your belly, and always a roof over your head. Your mother occasionally managed to scrape together enough money for a treat, for what was life without small enjoyments, she would say. You knew she had a bit of money squirreled away for medicine or doctors, and to your dismay, you remember how she has needed more of these in the last couple of years. How will she be able to afford all that on top of Arlong’s tribute, especially if you’re not there to help her?

As Arlong’s words sink in, and the reality of what your mother and the rest of the village faces, you feel light-headed again. Since you were a child, you would get an attack like this rarely, usually after being dealt with an emotional blow.

And this isn’t just an emotional blow. It’s a fucking emotional sucker-punch, and you actually pass out.

Someone is stroking your forehead and hair, and for a moment, you think it’s your mother tending to you. But you’re not in a bed, you’re… on someone’s lap, and your head and neck is on top of what you’re pretty sure is an arm. You hear conversation going on around you, footsteps bustling about, commands being given as the island comes into sight. A quiet whine escapes your throat as you struggle to gain consciousness.

“Looks like the little clownfish is coming awake,” you hear someone chuckle. You would come to hate being called that, for your captor uses it when he thinks you are being silly or stupid.

Who is calling you that, you wonder, and it all comes crashing upon you. Arlong. Arlong the Saw. Who just claimed you for himself and his crew. Who just told you the ultimate fate of your father. And who will terrorize your island and collect tribute from villagers who only want to live a quiet life. You try to bat away the hand that’s touching you, and suddenly find your wrist ensconced in the iron grip of the hand you just tried to defend yourself from.

“Now, now, there will be none of that,” you hear him chide, and you open your eyes, seeing these bright blue eyes and that impressive nose hovering over your face. Your first instinct is to scoot back but the arm that had been supporting you now holds you in his lap in an iron grip. It’s hard to not feel vulnerable pressed up against this impressive specimen of a fishman. And as your gaze darts around, you realize that the other fishmen are pretty tall too. Taller than even the tallest man in your village.

Now you really do feel like a little clownfish, surrounded by all sorts of predatory sea creatures.

#yandere #arlong #arlong pirates #one piece #arlong x reader #opla #opla x reader #one piece x reader #writing #fanfiction #arlong/reader #sharks are sexy #arlong the saw

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

Text

Someone to Call Home

CW: Body image insecurity

Hero had hung up their cape nearly a year ago, but they still tensed every time they heard police sirens. It was like something innate, a strand of DNA that told them to pursue danger rather than avoid it. It had been their most winning quality as a hero—and their most destructive.

It used to take Hero at least half an hour to convince themselves crime wasn’t their responsibility anymore, but now all it took was one deliberate step into the crosswalk.

They swung their grocery sack in leisurely rhythm with the beeper and licked drips of orange icy pop from their knuckles. Though there was still an itch in their heels to follow the police cars zooming by, smoke burning off their soles like the good old days, it was easier now. Especially since they'd come up with a new civilian schedule: Sleep until 9:00 a.m., eat breakfast until full, yoga/light workout, any fulfilling activity (reading, walking, baking, etc), eat lunch until full, shopping, home again, more activities, dinner until full, TV time, and in bed no later than 11 p.m.

Maybe they were running out of activities to do all by themselves, but at least things were peaceful. No more skipped meals, overnight shifts, or bathtubs left bloody from wound cleanup. And with the rookies gaining a foothold, the agency didn’t even ask them to reconsider retirement anymore.

That was probably for the best. Hero didn't want to know what the press would say about them if they reappeared to the world looking as they did. Their form had been hard to achieve to begin with, and it was even harder to keep without the rigorous work of their old job. Maybe if they visited the gym more instead of working out at home… Would that even make a difference? Should they go on more walks? A jog before bed? They’d always seemed to do hero work better on their night shifts, so maybe it was the same for—

Something small and wiry flew around the corner and slammed face-first into Hero's collarbone. The person yowled and fell back on their rear with a clatter of bracelets and clank of metal bootstraps.

Hero barely stopped themselves from dropping into a fighting stance and instead rubbed a sore spot below their ribs where one of the person’s knobby elbows had jabbed them. They looked regretfully after their icy pop, discarded on the cement in a growing orange puddle of its own syrup. Then they looked back to their accidental assailant.

They froze.

"Hey! Watch where you’re—“ Villain stopped, going just as still and rigid as Hero. They blinked a few times. "Hero?"

Hero’s face rushed with warmth, arms hastily hugging themself, trying to hide every part of them from their ex-nemesis’ view.

Villain scrambled to their feet and looked over their shoulder toward the sound of shouting and pounding steps around the corner. “One moment. Not here."

Villain's hand fitted into their sticky one, and suddenly they were sailing behind them. Hero had always been faster than the criminal, but right now, their brain filled with heavy worry like a marsh blanketed in fog, it was all they could do to keep one foot in front of the other. They swerved and turned, ducked and jumped, landscape changing from busy streets to back allies, until finally the came to a stop beneath an old metal bridge.

They both panted, and Hero had to rest their hands on their knees to wait for their lungs to stop burning. Villain, however, did not wait. Their eyes were as shiny as the day Hero said goodbye, maybe even brighter with their face flushed and glistening with sweat. As always their clothes hung oversized but their hands moved strong and forceful, tough with lean muscle.

They jerked Hero upright by their shoulders and held them out in front of them.

"Let me look at you. I've missed you."

Hero tensed, fixing their gaze over Villain's shoulder at the morning glory vines curled and flowering up one of the bridge’s rusted legs, but they still felt the criminal's eyes roving over them, prodding at the soft spots of their body where muscles had once been. What would they think? Would they laugh? Ask them what they’d been doing all retirement?

"You look so good," Villain said.

Hero blinked, breaking their determined focus on the wall. "What?"

"You're finally taking care of yourself. I like it."

"Y-you don't think I let myself go? That I'm...” they swallowed hard on the sudden emotion welling in their throat, “gross?"

"Did someone tell you that? Who was it? I'll throttle them!"

"N-no, no one said anything! I just... I'm trying to go to the gym, but I don't always have the time, and it's harder since I lost the muscle, and since I'm not saving anyone anymore, I can't always find the motivation, and I’m thinking about starting up jogging, I never should have let myself get out of the habit, but I was so tired, and—“

Villain stood on their toes and pressed their palm to Hero’s mouth. Their fingers smelt like oil and grit.

"Hero, I'm not dumb. I know what body types are. I always knew once we retired together you'd gain some weight, and I'd end up looking like an anemic raccoon. I don’t care about that stuff. I was always more worried that you were pushing yourself too hard.” Their eyes flicked away for a moment, and they rubbed the back of their neck. “You know for as much as it hurt when you left, it was also a relief. I couldn’t stand watching you exhaust yourself to death anymore.”

Hero stared at Villain dumbly, feeling their mouth gaping but unable to get it to close. “Retired together?"

Villain cocked their head. "Isn’t that the plan?”

Since when?!

“I…I Uh…”

“Don’t tell me you already found someone else? Even after you promised.”

“No!” Hero blurted, fumbling a little over theirs words. “There’s no one! No one at— But when did I promise anything?”

Villain stuck their hands on their hips, shooting Hero an exaggeratedly disappointed look. “Now, Hero, do vows of undying antagonism mean nothing to you? When we first met you swore you wouldn’t rest until I was off the street. And you renewed that oath more than a dozen times throughout the years. Aren’t you going to take responsibility for that?”

Ok, Hero had said that. But Villain had to know what they’d had meant. Getting them off the street and into prison, not…not in a proper home, with proper love and proper care. Not with Hero. Though, admittedly, each time they’d declared their opposition it had had less and less of its original intent… More worry, more personal investment that had nothing to do with their job. For goodness’ sake did this skin and bone rat even eat anything?

“H-how much longer?” Hero could barely believe those were the words that slipped out instead of a fervent denial. They weren’t sure how long these feelings had lived inside them, pushed to side and shrouded from view, but they knew for certain that they weren’t spontaneous. Perhaps they were why Hero had avoided the criminal lately, why they’d been so afraid to be seen.

Villain grinned, their whole demeanor perking to an even giddier level.

“A few months,” they said, immediately understanding the question. “Just enough time to see everything settled, ties cut, people paid…work immortalized.”

“You little—” Hero began, but then shook their head. Villain was grinning too widely to be really mad at, and honestly, criminal Villain wasn’t their problem anymore. And in several weeks wouldn’t be ever again. A sudden impatience for that future washed over them. “A month.”

Villain raised one cocky brow. “Now, Hero, leaving the villain business is a lot more complicated than the heroic one. I’d need at least—“

“Two months.” Hero stared Villain dead in the eye. “And then you come home.”

A little shiver ran through the criminal’s body, echoing the exact same rush Hero got from uttering such words.

Home. A real one, finally. For the both of them.

Villain tapped their chin with a quivering forefinger and pondered it for a couple seconds. “I think I can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll cut some corners. Maybe my work doesn’t need to be sooo immortalized.”

Hero smiled, bumping their knuckles slightly with the crook of their index finger. “Just be careful.”

“I will.” Villain bumped them back. “You just be ready for me. I want a porch swing to watch the sunset in. And matching mugs. And maybe a dog.”

Hero chuckled. “I’ll be waiting.”

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted

@onlywhump @thelocalnemesis

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing snippet #villain #creative writing #hero #fiction #heroes and villains community #ex hero #retired hero

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 1 month

Text

Blessed Be: Chapter 6 - Final

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader

WitchAU

Summary: Fate has a funny way of rectifying itself.

Warnings: Potentially triggering chapter, mentions of suicide and murder, smut, fluff, angst, heartbreak, witchcraft.

- Chapter 5 Here -

—————————————

Smutty Chapter

18+ Only Beyond This Point

—————————————

You and Bob married on a Sunday not even 4 months later.

You held the ceremony in the back garden of the big white house on the cliff, under the same tree Bob had climbed to get to you.

The afternoon sun began to slowly dip over the horizon, and the garden took on a peaceful orange glow, aided by the hundreds of white candles scattered around.

As your guests sat, looking out at the ocean through the handmade white rose and daisy arch, Bob walked down the isle.

He came to stand under the arch and beamed at the guests who had all come out of their way to witness this special occasion. Even his parents had flown in from Wyoming, albeit confused by the speed of the relationship, but happy for their son.

A breeze kissed Bobs exposed chest, his button down white dress shirt an informal grooms attire, but then again nothing about this wedding was normal.

Bobs heart began to race as the orchestral music began, and he turned to watch you walk down the isle, your mom by your side.

You smiled at him and let out a giggle, you couldn’t believe the day had come.

Your white lace dress flowed beautifully in the breeze, the golden sun illuminating you, and you stole the very breath from Bobs lungs, as you had done so many times in the past 4 months.

He couldn’t wait to marry you, and he had proposed not even a month after you met. There was no hesitation in his question or in your answer.

As you reached the arch, you hugged your mom and then took Bobs hands.

“Hi.” You breathed, he looked so good. His long hair tucked neatly behind his ears, peaking out in curls just below them, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to see the curve of his pecs.

“Hey baby.” He breathed back, voice low and husky, his crooked grin now a permanent feature on his face.

Aunt Frances officiated the wedding, and a few minutes later Bob was wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you like it was the first time. Your guests cheered and clapped and you partied until the early hours of the morning. Your husband never leaving your side.

As you danced under the full moon, Bob kissed your jaw and whispered, “I can’t wait to sneak off with you later, Mrs Floyd.” And it sent shivers up your spine.

“Say that again.” You whispered back.

“Which part? Sneak off?” He chuckled.

You shook your head.

“Oh… Mrs Floyd?” He asked, surprised. You hummed in his ear.

“Oh that gets you going does it?” He mumbled, his hands pushing your lower back so you were firmly pressed against him.

“Yeah, well… it feels like it gets you going too.” You commented on the hard length that protruded against your stomach.

“No that’s just you, you always get me going. Can’t control myself around you.” He kissed under your ear as he spoke, slowly spinning you as you danced in the centre of the slowly dispersing crowd.

“You seem to do a pretty good job most of the time.” You joked, your fingers twirling in the curly hair at the back of his neck.

“Only because I have to. You have no idea how desperately I wanted to tear that little blue dress off of you last week at the market.” He growled. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

“Come with me.” You instructed suddenly, hooking a finger into the waistband of his pants and pulling him inside.

Crap, it was still too crowded, people scattered around the interior talking and laughing and drinking. Bobs parents waved at you. You politely smiled and waved back, flushing a bright shade of red.

“Ok maybe not here. Meet me at the beach in 10 minutes. Make sure no one sees you.” You whispered, kissing him gently before you ran off.

Bobs head was spinning and his heart thudded against his chest, he wasn’t sure he could wait 10 minutes.

Making small talk with the guests, and checking his watch every thirty seconds, finally the 10 minutes had passed, and he slipped outside. Luckily everyone had since gone indoors so he was able to quietly sneak to the edge of the garden.

Slipping off his shoes and leaving them next to yours, he climbed the boulders down to the beach below, which was nicely secluded by bushes and hanging trees overhead, utter privacy.

As soon as his feet hit the cool sand, he looked around the little beach for his wife.

He found you standing knee deep in the serene moonlit water. Bob slowly walked up to you, wading through the shallow water. Silently he slid his arms around your waist and flattened his palms against your stomach as he placed delicate kisses along the side of your neck.

“Mmmm that tickles. I can’t believe I have a husband now.” You chuckled in pleasure.

“I can’t believe I have a wife either.” He chuckled back against your skin. He pressed himself against your back and you could feel him growing hard again. You wiggled your bum so it ground gently against him, and Bob groaned.

He slid a hand slowly up your stomach, gently caressing your boob along the way, and slipped the strap of your dress over your shoulder. He did the same with the other side as he kissed your now exposed shoulder blade, and your dress fell into the water below.

Slowly you turned around to face Bob and began to unbutton his shirt. You peeled the shirt off of his shoulders and he discarded it into the water with your dress.

You caressed his bare chest, kissing his collar bone and shoulders. Bob unclasped your bra, and slid his hands down to your bum and gave it a squeeze before he hooked his thumbs in your underwear and pulled them down.

You now stood naked in front of Bob in the bright moonlight, and he let out a sigh of admiration at how beautiful, ethereal even, you looked.

“I love you so much.” He whispered.

“I love you right back Mr Floyd.” You said, as you unbuttoned his pants and gave them a tug. His underwear came down with them and you jumped into his arms, your cold wet legs wrapped around his back and caused Bob to gasp.

You chuckled and bit your lip as you looked down at him. Without needing to ask, Bob took your lips in his and slowly lowered you with one arm around your waist while the other steadied his hard cock, until he was sliding into you, inch by inch. You both gasped at the feeling, your walls so tight against him. Once you were fully seated, Bob held onto you for a moment to get used to the feeling, the familiar but all too delicious stretch of him inside you.

You gently bit and tugged at Bobs bottom lip to give him the go ahead, and he slowly moved deeper into the water, until you were both waist deep before he began to thrust into you. You panted at the sensation and the cold water that gently lapped at your skin, and began to buck your hips in time with Bobs thrusts.

You didn’t need pillow talk or dirty words to get you going, looking at Bobs face was enough. Pupils blown, alternating between his mouth hanging open and biting his lip as his eyebrows knit together.

You spent the next hour on the beach alone together, enjoying your first moment alone as husband and wife, before eventually climbing back up to the house in soaking wet clothes, much to the confusion and amusement of your guests.

——————————————

“I gotta go babe, got a call from the sheriff, we’ve got a situation out on the north cliffs. Promise I’ll be back for dinner.” Bob said, running his hands lovingly through your hair and kissing you tenderly.

“Okay, I love you, be safe.” You said with a grin, pecking him once more before he disappeared out the door.

“I love you more!” He called over his shoulder, and climbed into his car.

You smiled to yourself as you unpacked box after box in your new home, reminiscing on all of the perfect moments of married life you had in the last few months. The first thing Bob had done when you moved in was put his wishing candle on the mantle, a meaningful centrepiece in your new home.

You loved that he took pride in his new life with a witch, even with his upbringing being mostly Christian, it didn’t bother him and if anything he was actively trying to learn everything he could about your traditions.

He loved you and nothing would change that.

———————————————

Bob pulled up to the cliffside on the north end of the island, cop cars scattered along the hill.

“What’s going on?” He asked, climbing out of his car and walking up to the edge to speak with one of the officers.

“Little girl was walking along the beach and came across a corpse. Looked like an accident or suicide at first, but we found bruises that indicate there was a struggle before he died.”

“Jesus…” Bob mumbled, peaking his head over the cliffside. “Alright, get forensics out, I think it’s gonna be a long night.” He said, already forgetting his promise to be home for dinner.

Hours passed as Bob scanned the area above the beach in the hopes of finding any sort of indication of what had happened. He managed to find two sets of foot prints around the cliff edge, one of which led back into the thick brush that trailed down the hill.

The sun was quickly disappearing over the horizon and most of the team had already left, leaving Bob on his own by the brush, a few policy officers manning the cordoned off area to ensure no passers by accidentally scuppered what very little evidence they had.

Bob had left his phone in his car in the rush and didn’t realise you had tried to call him. Dinner time had long passed.

Bob crouched down in the dark and tried to follow the footprints with the flashlight doing little to cut through the dense undergrowth.

He cursed as the footprints stopped, unsure of which direction to follow on the hopes of finding more.

—————————————

It was getting dark and dinner was nearly ready, but Bob wasn’t home.

You picked up your phone and tried to call him, but it just rang and rang and eventually went to voice mail.

“Hey baby, just wanted to check if you’ll still be home for dinner? I know you’ve probably forgotten your phone again, but give me a call when you get this.” You sighed out a small laugh at how forgetful Bob could be when he delved into his work. You loved him for it.

You went back to stirring the pasta sauce you’d made from scratch using fresh herbs and vegetables from your newly planted garden. You couldn’t wait for him to taste it.

You hummed away as you cooked, listening out in the distance for the sound of car wheels crunching against dirt, but were only met with silence.

Shortly enough dinner was ready, but Bob was still not home. You sighed and picked up your phone again, dialling Bob. It rang and rang and went to voicemail again.

You hung up and plated up Bobs food, opting to put it in the microwave for when he got home, and took your own plate outside to eat in the fresh, dark air.

You snapped your fingers and the candles flickered on, as you sat in your chair and ate your food, enjoying the peaceful silence that came with the evening.

You sighed and wished Bob was there with you, but you know he must have had a good excuse, he would never miss dinner on purpose. Bob was thoughtful like that, and work must have been crazy.

As you finished eating, you thought you heard a noise you hadn’t heard before. You strained your ears and heard it again.

A chirping.

It wasn’t coming from outside, so you followed the noise into the house, straining your ears to find where it was coming from.

There it was again, a shrill, high pitched chirping noise, not unlike a cricket but also not exactly alike.

You put your plate down in the kitchen and followed the noise into the lounge, flicking the light on as you did.

Your heart sank suddenly, and you wanted to empty your stomach at what you saw crawling on your new couch.

The beetle.

You dove at the couch in an attempt to grab the beetle, but it crawled inbetween the cushions.

“No! No you can’t!” You screamed, pulling the sofa apart. “I will not let you!”

The beetle chirped away but you couldn’t find it, your brand new couch torn apart. You sobbed as you threw the lounge into chaos, tipping over furniture in a desperate frenzy.

It was no good, and the chirping only grew louder. You ran to the kitchen and grabbed your phone, your fingers clumsily fumbling on the screen as you called Bob.

It rang and rang for a painfully long time, and went to voice mail again.

“Bob!” You sobbed, “Bob you need to call me, please! Please!” You begged through your hysterical tears.

You ran back into the lounge with your phone, and kept calling Bob in the hopes he would finally answer as you desperately continued to tear apart at the furniture.

———————————

Bob stood back on his feet and dusted off his knees as he tried to figure out where these footprints went.

He decided to retrace the steps from the cliffside, so walked back to the edge and took a closer look with his torch light at the foot prints on the ground, careful not to step in them.

He suddenly wished he had his glasses on rather than his contacts, as they were never quite strong enough, and he squinted at the ground to inspect the patterns of the soles, trying to differentiate between the victims footprints and the others.

He didn’t hear the rustling of the bushes behind him over the crashing waves below, and the soft crunch of the dirt below someones shoes, getting ever closer to Bob in the dark.

————————————

You had destroyed every inch of that room in your desperate search for the beetle, its chirping growing ever louder, taunting you into a wild rage as you clawed at the floorboards.

Suddenly the noise stopped, and the house was filled with a silence so palpable it made you want to be sick, and inside you, the feeling of Bob vanished. You no longer felt the warmth he filled you with every second of the day, and your body went cold as a sob wracked through you, sending you to your knees as you fought for breath.

Bob was gone.

—————————————

Bob stood to his feet again, this time catching the noise of gravel underfoot, and swivelled around to see who it was.

He flicked his flashlight in the direction of the noise, and Bob was met with dark brown eyes, before an abnormally strong pair of hands collided with his chest and sent him reeling over the edge of the cliff.

He tried to grab at his assailant, but it was too late.

As Bob fell, the only thing he could think of was you. His Bree, and the horrifying realisation he wouldn’t get to hold you again. As his heart sank, he closed his eyes and prepared for the inevitable death that awaited him.

“I love you Bree.” He whispered right before he collided with the ground below.

—————————————

You screamed and screamed on the lounge floor, surrounded by the debris of what was only moments ago a happy new home for you and Bob. You couldn’t catch your breath as screams turned to sobs and back to screams again.

You wailed as you forced yourself to your feet.

There had to be something you could do, this couldn’t be the end, it had only just started for you and Bob. It wasn’t fair for him to be snatched from you so quickly. It wasn’t his time.

Suddenly you remembered the candle. The wishing candle that sat proud on your mantelpiece.

In a moment of desperation, you snatched the candle and snapped your fingers to light it.

You drew in a deep breath and steadied yourself, staring into the flame.

“I wish I had never written that stupid love spell!” You sobbed.

And everything went white.

————————————————

You were restocking shelves and telling Carla about the boring weekend you’d had when you felt goosebumps run up and down your arms.

You rubbed your arms and thought it was strange, as the store wasn’t really that cold.

“You okay honey?” She asked, noticing your expression.

“Yeah, is it cold in here or am I just getting sick?” You asked, feeling your forehead with the back of your hand. She walked up and felt your forehead to double check.

“No you feel fine, maybe someone’s walked over your grave.” She laughed. You brushed it off and went back to stocking the shelves with balms and lotions.

“Anyway, yeah so I spent the whole weekend helping mom paint the house. Would have been fun, except for the fact that she chose the exact same colour. I couldn’t tell where the old paint ended and the new paint began.” You laughed.

“Yeah well when you get to our age, you don’t really like change as much.” Carla stated.

Your mom appeared from the back and tutted, “Excuse you, what do you mean women OUR age? You were friends with my mother!”

You laughed out loud, when suddenly the bells jingled as someone walked into the store. Your mom was behind the counter so you paid no mind to whoever walked in and continued with your menial task.

“Hi honey, need help finding anything?” Your mom asked the customer.

“No ma’am, I think I’ve found what I’m after.” A deep voice responded, sending chills up your spine.

You turned to face the handsome stranger who stood by the door, long caramel locks curling behind his ears and the most piercing blue eyes you had ever seen.

You swallowed hard as the stranger walked over to you.

“Hi, I know this is going to sound weird but… do I know you? I saw you through the window, and couldn’t shake the feeling we’ve met before. I’m… I’m Bob, Bob Floyd.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets awkwardly.

You smiled at him, “I don’t think we have, I’m (Y/N) but you can call me Bree, like-“

“Sabrina the Teenage Witch.” He nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, I feel like I knew that already.”

————————————

The end.

Sequel to this series can now be found here:

The Witching Hour: Chapter 1

Notes: Thank you so much for all the love received on this series 💛 every like, comment and reblog means the world to me!

@wretchedmo @seitmai @hiireadstuff @xoxabs88xox @mrspedropascal5683 @darksparklesficrecs

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