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slytherinslut0 · 6 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Ten-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Throat Fucking, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Humiliation, Begging, Gagging, Oral (f & m rec), Spanking/Belting, Sexual Punishment, Sexual Aggression, CNC, DubCon.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Dread gripped your insides, twisting like a coiled snake ready to strike. The weight of the impending confrontation pressed upon you, a leaden heaviness settling deep in your stomach. Last night had been sleepless, the weight of Mattheo's threat lingering in your mind like a haunting spectre. It wasn't necessarily fear that gnawed at your insides, but a potent blend of anxiety and worry.

The mere thought of Mattheo retaliating against last nights events, potentially drawing his brother Tom into an even deeper tangled web of suspicion, sent shivers down your spine. You knew Tom was already suspicious, already clearly had some sort of inclination about what was going on between you and his brother, and fear sunk its talons into your neck just thinking about what could happen if Mattheo lashed out at him again after last night. The timing would just be all too convenient to happen twice in a row like that.

In the hushed confines of the empty classroom, as you awaited Mattheo's attendance for Wednesday's tutoring session, every second seemed to stretch into eternity. The air hung heavy with anticipation, your breaths shallow and hurried--every creak of the floor beneath your restless pacing echoed like an ominous drumbeat. Your heart thudded in your chest, its frantic rhythm reverberating in your throat, each pulse a reminder of the impending confrontation. Fingers, usually steady, now trembled with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, tangible proof of the mounting tension in your chest.

But then, before you could even process it, the door creaked open, the sound slicing through the heavy silence in the room like a warning. You turned, your heart skipping a beat when you saw Mattheo's disheveled figure framed by the dim light filtering in from the corridor. His white dress shirt was stained with patches of blood, his appearance marred by the evidence of a recent altercation. His eyes, normally sharp and piercing, were now ablaze with a fierce intensity, burning with emotions that he kept tightly concealed.

As he stepped inside, the atmosphere seemed to shift, the air growing thick and suffocating. Each movement he made was deliberate, calculated, as if he was conducting an unspoken symphony of power and control. With a fluid motion, he started to loosen his tie, his hands moving with a grace that contrasted sharply with the aggressive energy radiating from him. The room seemed to shrink in his presence, the walls closing in as if acknowledging his dominance.

You stood frozen, your gaze locked onto his, unable to tear yourself away despite the unsettling mixture of emotions that gripped you. Mattheo's gaze bored into yours, his eyes holding a storm of emotions--anger, frustration, and something deeper, something you couldn't quite pinpoint. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavily between you, the silence ringing in your ears like a deafening roar, suffocating the space and leaving you feeling like you were standing on the edge of a precipice.

With each step he took toward you, the energy in the room grew more electric, his presence overwhelming. The intensity of his stare made it hard to breathe, as if he could see right through you, peeling away layers until your soul lay bare before him. It was a confrontation without words, a battle fought in the silent language of unspoken emotions, and you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to break free from the magnetic pull of his furious gaze.

Your voice quaked. "Mattheo-"

"No," he said, cutting you off, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "No talking, Raven, not tonight."

You felt a lump forming in your throat, a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling within you. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the words that begged to spill out, but his resolute demeanor silenced any protests before they could escape your lips. As Mattheo came to a halt directly in front of you, his bloodied emerald Slytherin tie sitting loosely around his neck now--he wasted zero time before he seized your hips with a motion as swift as a striking snake, his grip so strong it felt like your bones might shatter within his grasp.

Every muscle in your body coiled like a tightly wound spring, bracing for whatever the fuck he'd do next, but nothing could prepare you for the feeling that would erupt through you as he leaned in--inhaling a sharp breath, his exhale hot against the sensitive skin of your neck. The sharp scent of alcohol wafted from him, swirling around you, adding to the already charged atmosphere.

His head dipped, finding the hollow of your shoulder, his dark, curly hair grazing your skin like a whispering caress. A shiver traced the length of your spine as his proximity engulfed you, leaving you both exhilarated and trapped in the potent grip of his presence. You swallowed, trying to steady your trembling fingers that hung limply at your sides.

"You're drunk..." you managed to utter, your voice barely audible in the charged air around you. It was fucking Wednesday. "What happened to exercising your demons, Mattheo..."

"Oh, I am," Mattheo murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a heated caress. "I got them running around the castle right now, doing laps...."

Despite his effort to suppress his fury with cunning sarcasm, the energy radiating from him was palpable, a stormy intensity that crackled in the air around you. His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could feel the weight of his words settle on your skin.

"I...you..." you stammered, your voice barely audible, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. His proximity was overwhelming, his strange demeanour leaving you entirely at a loss for words--yet there was one thought that seemingly wouldn't leave your mind. "Matt...please tell me this blood isn't from Tom..."

"I said no fucking talking, Raven..." Mattheo's fingers dug into your skin, a painful pinch that threatened to draw a cry from your lips. A sharp gasp escaped you as he swiftly maneuvered his hand around your back, his fingers asserting a firm, possessive hold on your ass. "That mouth only has one fucking purpose tonight...it's been far too long since I've had those pretty lips around my cock..."

Mattheo's presence was a blazing inferno, searing heat that enveloped you entirely, making your skin prickle with anticipation. He maneuvered you both with an unyielding force, guiding you until the edge of the desk met your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. Both of his hands, firm and possessive, found their place on your backside, pulling you snugly against his muscular frame. A sense of foreboding settling deep within your lungs, a weighty anticipation that gripped your every breath.

Despite the palpable tension, you couldn't resist the compulsion to probe further, pushing his boundaries even as the atmosphere crackled with escalating intensity.

"Mattheo, please..." your voice brushed against his cheek like a gentle breeze, your fingers winding into his hair, pulling on the tousled strands in an urgent plea to lock eyes, your heart racing with anxiety. "Please just give me an answer...Tom was skeptical-"

With a sudden, unsettling intensity, Mattheo's demeanor transformed--whatever restraint he was previously maintaining had now completely vanished as he swiftly pivoted you around, his hands unrelenting as he pressed your hips forcefully against the desk. The cool wood bit into your skin as he loomed behind you, his body molding to yours with possessive insistence. One hand coiled around your throat, pulling you back against his chest, while the other traveled up the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Say his fucking name again and I will not hesitate to bend you over this desk and fuck you until the only name you remember is mine..." he pulled you impossibly close, his breath a sultry growl against your ear. "You'll be so fucking full of me, Raven...you'll be so fucking full of my cum you'll feel fucking empty without it...you'll fucking crave my cock...you'll be begging for me to get inside you..."

His free hand explored your body, its fingers skillfully finding every contour, moving purposefully to your tits, caressing and squeezing once he'd reached them. He pulled you tighter, hugging you flush to his front, his insistent erection pressing tight against your ass. A delightful buzz tingled on your skin from his grip around your throat, rendering you utterly helpless, and all that escaped your lips was a soft, pathetic whimper, surrendering to his control.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" He murmured, the alcohol on his tongue swarming your ear. "You're all I can fucking think about."

The words brought a wave of heat crashing over your body.

"Matt-" you said, fighting against his hand, his name hiccuped between your gasp for air when he increased his grip. “-thèo..."

"You fucking haunt me," he said, jerking his hips into your ass, his painfully hard length jamming into your backside. You whimpered as the force of his pelvis drove you harder against the desk. "I've made myself cum to the mere thought of fucking you so many times, Raven...fuck, if you were any other slut I would have fucked you stupid by now..."

His voice was dark and deadly, so quiet that you were almost certain you weren't hearing him correctly, the pounding of your heart drowning out the edges of his syllables, his hand working to untuck your blouse from your skirt before slipping underneath it--igniting goosebumps on your flesh as he went.

"Oh..." the word was a moan as it left your lips, his fingers brushing over your stiffening nipple. "Shit-"

The fingers at your throat increased their pressure, choking your words. "I told you I have a clamouring fucking desire to ruin you...and believe me, I do...but it's not enough to just ruin you, Raven...It's like I need to fucking own you, possess you...there can't be anyone else..."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clenched, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. Mattheo's large palm squeezed your other tit now, kneading it in his hand until he could feel the peak of your nipple. His thumb brushed over it, and you held back a whine, wriggling against him.

"Mattheo-" his name left your lips like a breathless sin, as though it was the only word your pathetic, lust-filled mind knew how to say.

"You know I could be with any girl I fucking want, Raven...any single fucking one..." he murmured, circling the hardening point with the pad of his finger, sparks of pleasure lingering in its path. "I seen your little friend looking at me the other day...what's her head like, hm?"

Ignoring the squirming in between your thighs, you rolled your eyes, a flutter of uncontrollable irritation flowing through you. "Go to hell-"

He answered your snark with another harsh jab of his bulge. "Yeah, you don't like that, do you..." the hand on your throat slid up to pinch your jaw open, two fingers shoving past your teeth and depressing your tongue. You caught a gag when he reached toward the back of your throat. "You wouldn't like it if there was another girl kissing me good night, would you? Another girl sucking me off...swallowing my cum..."

You tried to call him an asshole, but all that came out was, "Ah-houh."

"Mhm, I know..." he snickered, pressing further into your body, hunched over you like you were his next meal. "You're going to fix that situation with my brother, or else I will...you have one fucking week..."

Your heart hammered, your pulse flying, your body trembling against him. His teeth nipped your ear, your head spinning with the onslaught of his power.

"Because this..." this hand on your breast made a path toward the band of your skirt, and you shuddered, bucking away from his touch when he skimmed the sensitive skin of your belly.

"...little cunt..." his hand slipped under the seam of your panties, long, thick fingers easily reaching the warmth of your slit, resting on the outer folds, and you whimpered, wiggling your hips as you sought out his touch.

"...is mine..." one finger parted your lips, slicking itself on your wetness, dragging and catching over your swollen, stiff clit and pulling a low moan from your throat.

You were gelatin in his arms. All you could do was bob your head against his grip, tongue writhing to speak.

"Yeah, that's fucking right..." he said, tracing tiny circles around your clit while his length pressed against your ass. "This tight little pussy wants to cum for me, doesn't it?" You groaned--louder than you wanted--when he sped his pace on your nub, and he squeezed your jaw, voice a deep growl against your ear. "Then you better prove you deserve it."

He relinquished his hold on you, his fingers slowly sliding away from you body as he took a deliberate step back. This subtle retreat granted you just enough space to pivot back towards him. In the dim light, his eyes appeared as profound as the obsidian night, their intensity softened by an unexpected vulnerability. It was a facet of him you had never glimpsed, hidden beneath the layers of his usual overbearing arrogance.

A hushed tension hung in the air as his gaze descended to trace the contours of your lips, a magnetic pull drawing him toward you. His own lips, parted with anticipation, met yours in a tender yet fervent kiss--a languid grace encompassing the way he explored your mouth, a delicate dance that left you breathless. The lingering taste of alcohol on his tongue only heightened the intoxicating sensation, sending your senses reeling as he skillfully slipped past your teeth, all before pulling away again.

"Get on your knees for me, pretty girl..." he murmured, his hand finding your hair and directing your head down, a huff of exasperation leaving his nose as you did what he said without question. "There we go...so good for me..."

As you knelt before him, your heart thundered in your chest, its beats so forceful you feared it might shatter your sternum. Perplexed, you couldn't pinpoint the source of your unease. It wasn't the first time you'd assumed such a position for Mattheo Riddle, yet an unfamiliar tension hung in the air tonight. His unpredictable demeanor had your entire body on edge, amplifying your nervousness to an unprecedented level.

"We're going to do things a little different tonight..." he purred, his hand in your hair pulling away to stroke your cheek with two rough fingers as he peered down at you, dark eyes burning wounds into your skin. "Unbutton your shirt for me."

Your heart skipped, your senses reeling, but with trembling fingers, you immediately did as he said, as though you were being controlled by a remote in his hands. Mattheo hummed in approval as you got down to the last few buttons, his eyes never once leaving yours, the muscles in his jaw clenching and his throat bobbing as he swallowed. When you were done, you met his eyes again, the intensity making your thighs clench in need, and a smirk teased his lips as he reached for the tie sitting loose around his neck; holding it between his battered fist.

When he spoke again, you almost fainted. "Take off my belt, princess..."

A visceral tension gripped you, twisting your stomach into a knot so tight it felt like your insides might unravel. Your hands trembled like fragile autumn leaves in the wind as you reached for the metal latch on his sturdy leather belt. With cautious fingers, you tugged, undoing the buckle carefully and pulling on it until it slithered free from around his waist. Gripping it tightly in both hands, you met his gaze once more, your eyes locking, accompanied by enough force to shatter glass.

Mattheo delicately lifted the tie, guiding it towards your mouth with a gentle touch, your lips parting in a silent understanding. He skillfully threaded it between them, the smooth fabric caressing your skin. With practiced hands, he wrapped it around the back of your head, the silk cool against your skin. With a deft motion, he fashioned it into a comfortable knot, ensuring it held securely, before he bent down and gripped your arm, pulling you back up to your feet.

"Bad girls get punished, Raven..." he murmured, his lips grazing your jawline, one hand on your hip, the other reaching for the leather seated in your hands. "Take your punishment like the good girl I know you are, and I'll reward you..."

As the leather slipped from your hands, Mattheo pulled back, something flickering behind his eyes that made your stomach leap up into your throat. He met your gaze, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or fear, before he urged you to spin around.

"Bend over the desk," he husked, running his hand up your back, the gentle touch igniting flames on your flesh as he urged you down against the desk, the cool chill of the wood igniting a shudder through your entire body. "Down on your elbows...there we go..."

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. Drool was already threatening to spill from the sides of your lips, the taste of blood lingering in your mouth as the bloodied tie sat tightly between your teeth--your breath hitching in your lungs as you felt two large hands run down the sides of your body, tracing your curves with determination as he positioned himself behind you, pressing his bulge against your ass until his hands met your hips and he pulled away; finding the hem of your skirt and slowly flipping it up to expose your backside, wasting absolutely zero time at all before his hands found the plump flesh, squeezing and groping like his life depended on it.

"Fucking hell, Raven..." he groaned, his voice tight and hoarse with need. "You look so fucking good bent over...I wish I could keep you here, just like this..."

You moaned involuntarily, a tornado of emotions swirling inside your brain. You felt as though you were in sensory overload, so many firsts happening at once.

"Spread those thighs," a calloused palm dipped between your legs, urging them further apart, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms, your entire body trembling as the heat of Mattheo's power turned suffocating. "Good fucking girl..."

Your breath hitched, feeling his thumb grazing dangerously close to your cunt, resisting the urge to buck toward his hand--desperate for connection. The heat between your thighs was insatiable at this point, and the teasing was driving you insane. Snapping you from your thoughts, there was a jingling of a buckle, followed by a loud, sickening crack--and you shrieked, heart thumping in your throat, squirming with force to attempt to get away from what was to follow.

"Ah, ah," Mattheo huffed, pressing a palm down on your lower back, holding you firm against the desk. You felt the smooth leather being dragged across your flesh, the sensations making your entire body flinch.

"I'm going to bruise this beautiful ass, and you're going to thank me for it, because that's what bad, filthy girls deserve..." he paused, as though waiting for your protest, and when it never came, he shifted his body, looming over you. "Do you understand me, princess?"

Do you understand? Do you fucking understand? No, any sort of understanding eluded you entirely. In truth, the unfolding scenario baffled you--you didn't know how the fuck you'd gone from being his tutor, someone who could barely tolerate his daily presence, to this precarious moment--bent over the fucking desk, about to be belted by him for an issue involving his own brother. You didn't understand any of this, and yet, not one single part of you wanted to stop it.

In response, you nodded, and Mattheo hummed, seemingly satisfied.

A heavy silence settled around you, in wake of his voice. Every sinew in your body tensed with anticipation, your eyelids squeezed shut in grim expectancy. The air hung heavy, pregnant with the impending storm, while inside you, tension wound tighter than ever, prickling your skin like sharp thorns digging into flesh. Then, like a sudden lightning strike, a searing bolt of pain cracked across your backside, tearing a scream from your lips. Despite the muffling effect of the tie clenched between your teeth, the sound reverberated through the room, shattering the silence.

Mattheo, his grip firm, yanked your hair, pulling you forcefully against his chest--his lips brushing against your ear.

"Do that again and I'll give you something to really fucking scream about, Raven..." he snarled, his fingers pinching your scalp. "Shut up and bite the tie. To five."

In a swift, unyielding motion, he thrust you back onto the desk, his hand firmly grasping your head, forcing your cheek against the chilling surface of the wood. You squirmed beneath his unrelenting hold, your eyelids clenched shut as you awaited the searing sting, but Mattheo didn’t make you wait for very long before the smooth leather of his belt cracked against your skin, leaving behind a trail of fiery agony that surged through your limbs.

Instinctively, your teeth sank into his tie, muffling the primal scream that threatened to escape your lips. An electric jolt of pain rippled through you, yet amidst the torment, a strange sense of resilience emerged. Inhaling sharply, you found the strength to steel yourself, your body absorbing the pain while your spirit endured the storm.

"Mm." Mattheo hummed, running his rough palm over the red, sweltering skin, squeezing a cheek in one of his big hands, soothing the welts. "I gotta say, I fucking love watching you squirm, princess..."

Your face reddened, a pang of an unknown emotion in your chest, eagerly squeezing your eyes shut as he pulled his hand off your flesh, the lack of movement and audible sounds in the room driving your nerves into a panicked frenzy. And then, before you could process it, you felt it again--the pain forcing a choked cry to leave your throat.

"Such a shame I have to ruin this perfect ass--" crack.

Your cunt twinged at his words, fire flashing your flesh, and he he struck you again, swift and merciless, leaving no room for a response--only a ragged, involuntary squeal escaping your throat in response to the searing pain.

"Such a shame I have to remind you of your place--" crack.

You whimpered, your body trembling with a mixture of pain and bewildering emotions. A twisted cocktail of sensations engulfed your mind, leaving you conflicted. You cursed your own body, disturbed by the inexplicable response, your senses entangled in a blend of desire and humiliation. Your core pulsed with an insatiable need, aching for attention, craving release despite the twisted circumstances.

Confusion swirled in your veins, leaving your head spinning. How could you find arousal in something so humiliating? The paradox gnawed at your thoughts, yet an undeniable part of you craved the intensity, leaving you inexplicably craving more.

Above all else, this was degrading. Yet, you were fucking throbbing for it.

"...remind you who you fucking belong to--" crack.

With the final, brutal crack of the belt, the metal buckle seared into your skin, imprinting its icy mark. The sharp, biting sensation wrenched a primal groan from your throat, your body convulsing in response. Drool spilled from your lips, tears welling in your eyes--and the room reverberated with the metallic clatter as Mattheo discarded the belt, his hand moving swiftly to find the inflamed skin, fingers grazing the wounded area with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness.

His thumb traced the path where you were certain blood had been drawn, a deliberate gesture that seemed to collect the evidence upon his skin. In a sudden, commanding movement, he pulled you away from the desk, forcing you to face him. Within the depths of his gaze, you glimpsed a twisted satisfaction entwined with something infinitely darker. His grin took on a sinister edge as he sucked his thumb into his mouth, the taste of your blood lingering on his lips. It was a macabre ritual, sending shivers down your spine, as if he had claimed a piece of you in a way that transcended the physical realm.

With a deliberate slowness, he withdrew his thumb from his mouth, his unyielding eyes locked onto yours, a challenge simmering beneath the surface. His fingers traced the path of the tie between your teeth, pulling it down methodically until it hung around your neck. Gently, he wiped the drool from the corners of your lips, his touch meticulous and strangely intimate. His eyes scrutinized your face with a depth of focus that both unsettled and intrigued you. There was an enigmatic intensity in his gaze, a complexity that left you partially terrified and yet undeniably aroused.

In that moment, you found yourself entangled in a labyrinth of emotions, your mind racing to comprehend the enigma of the boy standing before you.

His voice was a hoarse whisper. "What do you say, Raven..."

You swallowed, throat more arid than the desert, heart still pounding like a base drum. "Thank you, Mattheo..."

Mattheo's hands found their way to your face, his touch firm yet strangely gentle as his fingers slid sensually through your hair. Without a word, he crushed his lips against yours, a hungry and urgent kiss that left you breathless. His mouth dominated yours, his tongue probing with a rough insistence, exploring every corner of your mouth, caressing your own tongue in a dance of desire.

A low, needy moan escaped your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss, while your fingers clenched his shirt, desperately seeking an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations. With a commanding strength, he urged you backward, his grip on your hips unwavering as he effortlessly lifted you onto the desk. A soft whimper slipped from your throat as the supple flesh of your backside met the unyielding surface of the wood.

He moved down your neck, his plush lips leaving a hot trail of kisses down your chin, jaw, licking and sucking at the every inch of skin he could, creating planes of goosebumps across your flesh. His tongue drew a line across your collarbone, and he fell to your breasts, tugging down your bra and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling it. You moaned, meeting his gaze, and he rolled his tongue around the hardened bud, sending shivers through you, straight to your clit.

Exasperated, he pulled away--dark eyes scanning your heaving, lust-possessed form.

"You're beautiful," he breathed.

You were speechless, beginning to tremble, and Mattheo Riddle dropped to his knees between your legs, urging your thighs further apart on the desk, long fingers clutching your hips. Your cunt clenched in anticipation, but your teeth were clacking from anxiety, and he met your eyes.

"Relax," he said.

You made an attempt to nod, but your chin quivered despite your resolve. It wasn't an issue of trust, nor were you overtly frightened. Yet, the sheer intimacy of his presence, hovering intimately close to your most vulnerable parts, left your nerves frayed and your composure on the edge of unraveling.

"Raven." Mattheo glared at you, gouging the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Relax. You're safe with me..."

"I-I know..." you whimpered.

You shut your eyes tightly and drew in a slow breath through your nose, holding it in an attempt to steady the quivering in your body. You waited, holding onto the breath, until the tremors subsided before finally exhaling, releasing the tension that had gripped you.

"Good girl," he said. "Now look at me."

You opened your eyes, and his gaze locked with yours as his warm mouth started to suck at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, extracting a mewl from you. He smirked against you, moving closer to your center, and you bit your lip, walls contracting again with desire. As he drew closer, the curls of his messy hair tickled your skin, and then he shifted a hand, urging your panties to the side before he skipped his tongue across your outer folds, making your hips buck toward him.

"Filthy thing," he said, and pressed his full, soft lips to your pussy, dragging his flat tongue along the slit.

“F-fuck," electricity shot through you, wriggling within his grasp, your fingers clenched tightly, entwining in the disheveled tangle of his hair.

Riddle muffled a laugh with your flesh, lavishing your cunt with deep, slow kisses, tongue sliding inside of your folds, lapping the juices at your core, teasing your outer lips with languid licks. He moved away from your center, his mouth back to crawling along your thighs, and you complained with a grumble. In response, he took the tip of his tongue and flicked your clit.

"Shit..." you moaned, rocking your hips toward him. You stared at him with shining, pleading eyes. "Matty...please, please..."

"There's my girl..." he purred, "I love when you beg for me, Raven...you've been so fucking good for me..."

Before you could response, he growled and sucked your clit into his mouth, and you cried out, body jerking, but he held you fast, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. A moan left you as you gyrated your hips, warmth spreading out across you, fingertips and toes buzzing with bliss. Mattheo played his tongue against your swollen clit, your walls throbbing as your pleasure continued to build.

"Oh, fuck," you said, head hanging to the side. "Oh, Gods...Matty..."

The vibrations of his moan reverberated through your pussy, and he sucked harder, his unyielding stare never wavered, his golden-brown eyes digging into the depths of your soul. Each breath came faster, a delicious surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, building an exquisite tension that carried you higher and higher, inching you closer to the precipice of bliss. Mattheo buried his face into your cunt, lips tight on your clit, tongue batting the bundle of nerves.

Incessant moans escaped your chest with every ragged breath, jaw hanging open, gripping his hair like you could pull it from his scalp. "I...holy fuck...Mattheo..."

"That's it," he purred, the praise in his tone sparking heat in your lungs. "Cum for me, baby..."

A tidal wave of euphoria crashed over you, the walls of your senses pulsating, your body wracked with the convulsions of a long-delayed orgasm. Your vision blurred into white nothingness as you threw your head back, a crescendo of unintelligible curses escaping your lips in a primal symphony. Mattheo held onto your spasming legs, his ministrations expertly guiding you to the pinnacle of your pleasure, drawing out every last exquisite tremor, tip of his tongue sliding up your slit to your mound as you finally returned to reality. Your chest swelled as you caught your breath, refocusing on Mattheo's glistening face.

Your head rolled, lids fluttering open, hands petting at his hair. "Fuck, Matt-"

"Shh." He licked his lips, gaze liquefying your centre. "We aren't done yet, princess...keep being good for me..."

Entirely speechless, you nodded, unable to peel your eyes from his as he pulled you off the desk, dropping his hands from you as he moved to the buttons on his trousers, swiftly undoing them before pulling them down his thighs along with his boxers--his thick, throbbing cock springing free, tip glistening with precum, his head falling back in relief as he wrapped his fist around its girth, stroking slowly as you instinctively gathered yourself in front of his feet.

Something was swirling inside you, something primal, something hungry--and your hands found his thighs, slowly trailing up, peering up at him with a wide-eyed gaze; your voice alien to your own fucking ears.

"Please, Matty..." you purred. "Please let me suck your cock...please let me swallow-"

"Fucking hell..." Mattheo seized your hair, his actions driven by a raw and primal intensity as he directed his cock toward your lips. "Show me what that filthy mouth does, baby..."

You parted your lips, and Mattheo's grip on your hair tightened, pushing himself into you. Without thinking, you groaned on his length, legs writhing with arousal as he inched himself along your squirming tongue. Mattheo was biting his lip, watching your own lips stretch around his dick, watching you stare up at him with large, obedient eyes. He throbbed in your mouth, and you swallowed, the pool of your spit mixing with pearls of salty pre-cum.

Mattheo grunted, pulling out and thrusting back in, and in and out again, lips parting while you whimpered and choked on the size of his cock.

"Poor thing," he sneered. "Am I too big for your dirty little mouth?"

Nodding, you attempted to groan your agreement, but found yourself muffled by a deep thrust into your throat. You retched, trying to get off of his length, but another hand seized the back of your head, holding you there, tears and drool sliding to your jaw while he rocked into you. Every noise from your chest was a stifled whimper, gagging with every deep thrust, but he was ruthless, fingers burrowed into your face, cock fucking hard into your throat, and when you squeezed shut your lids, he growled.

"Look at me, Raven." he ordered. "Look at me when I'm throat fucking you. Know whose cum you're about to taste.

You complied, locking eyes with him through a haze, your throat raw and tender, lips and tongue going numb with his brutal thrusting.

"Good girl," he moaned, "so good...fuck..."

Riddle shifted, craning your head back, plunging deeper into your neck, seething in pleasure when you whined on his cock. His breath was coming fast, his dick pulsing urgently in your mouth, and then he was cursing, hissing your name, hips jerking in sloppy thrusts. He pulled out, fisting his length.

"Open."

You did, and he growled, shooting hot ropes of white onto your mouth and eyes, hips still rolling while he fucked his hand through the end of his climax. As he caught his breath, he looked down at you, your jaw jacked open, his bitter cum collecting on your tongue and sticking one of your lids shut.

"Go on," he huffed. "Swallow it."

Groaning, you swallowed, eye twitching as it opened despite the pull of his release on your lashes. Gasping for air, your head hung low as Mattheo released your hair. His eyes never wavered, attentively watching your every move as you gradually pulled yourself up from the floor. Meanwhile, his hands deftly moved to adjust his pants, restoring a semblance of decency.

Your own hands trembled as you fumbled to button up your shirt, a sense of vulnerability lingering in the air. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his tall figure casting a shadow over you in the charged silence. With a slow, deliberate movement, he used his finger to sweep away any traces of his release from your face, his eyes smoldering with intensity and a smirk playing on his lips as he directed his finger toward your parted lips.

Without hesitation, you welcomed it between your teeth, your mouth enveloping it with a mix of compliance and desire. Holding his gaze, you sucked gently, the unspoken tension crackling between you. He watched, his lips parting slightly, as you willingly took his finger into your mouth, the connection lingering until he slowly withdrew it, the intensity of the moment hanging between you like a charged current.

"Shit..." he murmured, glimpsing your lips.

"Shit." You repeated, glimpsing his.

The charged silence hung heavily in the air, enveloping both of you as you stood there, locked in a wordless exchange. Countless unspoken words seemed to swirl between you, filling the space with their weight, yet neither of you dared to vocalize them, opting for the sanctuary of silence. After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo finally exhaled, the sound carrying the weight of the unspoken. With a resigned gesture, he moved towards his chair and sank into it, the weariness evident in his posture.

You followed suit, collecting yourself, and Riddle finally broke the silence.

“This isn’t his blood.” He said, and relief almost immediately flooded you. "One week, Raven."

————————

Find chapter eleven->

1K notes · View notes

humanpurposes · 9 months

Text

Hysteria

(1950s AU) A housewife reaches breaking point and seeks medical advice at her husband's request // Main Masterlist

Aemond x nameless female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, period typical sexism, dub-con,

Words: 5400

A/n: inspired by this ask on @lightningandfireinmybones 's blog, shout out to @b-vvitched for the prompt, I couldn't stop thinking about it :) Also available to read on AO3.

She reads over the gold painted letters on the door to make sure she has the right room.

Dr A. Targaryen

General Practitioner

She brings her hand up to the door, hesitating for a moment before she softly taps her knuckles against the wood, thrice.

She holds her breath, unsure if a moment passes or a minute.

His voice comes soft and distant from the other side. “Enter.”

The room is simply four white walls, a dark wood desk and cabinets and an examination table with black leather upholstery. The harsh afternoon sun and a slight breeze bleed in from the open windows, floating through thin, white curtains. It’s surprisingly serene but still plain and inoffensive.

Dr Targaryen– Aemond as he insists as he shakes her hand– has harsh blue eyes, the left framed by a long scar slicing down his face, a pointed nose, curved lips, a sharp jaw and pale blond hair, stylishly gelled like some movie star. Something about him is unsettling despite the small smile and the impeccable manners as he offers her a seat in the green leather chair on the other side of his desk.

She contracts her hand slightly once he lets go of her. His grip had been rather firm.

He opens a brown leather notebook and flicks through a clipboard on the desk, frowning and tapping a pen against it as he goes over some paperwork and basic information she had given the nurse, as instructed.

She holds her hands together in her lap and winces at how damp her palms are. She’s sure it’s just the weather, and smooths them over her pale blue, rayon skirt. She checks her nails while she’s at it too. She had painted them red the night before, but they are already starting to chip from where she’d started her day with washing the dishes and doing a deep clean of the kitchen.

“You said your husband recommended you seek medical advice, is that right?” he asks, his head tilted down and his eyes meeting hers, expecting a prompt answer, she realises.

She swallows through the scratchy feeling in her throat, wishing she had accepted the receptionist’s offer of water. “Yes, that’s right.”

His eyes move over the page again and he gives a cryptic “hmm.”

The specifics often change but lately she’s realised that each day of her life feels the same. Wake up before her husband, make his coffee and his breakfast, make sure he wants for nothing and see him off to work. Help the mother-in-law with her shopping and her laundry. Bake a cake for the village fundraiser and drop it off at the the Church. Make polite conversation with the vicar and the other women helping out, compliment their babies, ask about the older children. Try not to cry when she’s bombarded with the dreaded question. “How soon can we expect little ones from you?”

Two weeks ago her husband had come home from work and found her on the sofa, staring into space, too tired to even reach for a book or a magazine. Everything had seemed to be going wrong for her that day, evidenced by the broken washing machine, the broken heel on her shoe, the cuts and blisters on her feet, the shopping left unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. She was absolutely exhausted, but when his dinner wasn't ready and waiting for him, her husband hit the roof.

Something snapped. Before she knew it, she was screaming, eyes hot and streaming with tears as she choked on her own sobs. She had never been so loud in her life. She can hardly even remember what she said.

Her husband’s voice screams inside her head. “Emotional… irrational… hysterical…”

“And you went to the nurse first?” Aemond asks.

“Yes.”

He looks back at the notes. “What did she tell you?”

She shifts in her chair. It should all be right there in front of him, why does she have to say it?

She takes a deep breath, as subtly as she can. “She suggested it could be a hormonal imbalance, or a symptom of…”

Aemond raises a brow, expectantly.

She feels a warmth rushing to her cheeks “... monthly courses,” she says quietly.

“And have you had issues with those?” he asks.

“They can be irregular.”

He hums again and writes something in his notebook.

She clenches her fist around her skirt and notices the soft ticking of the clock on the wall over the desk. It’s not too obtrusive, and the rhythm gives her something to focus on while neither of them are speaking.

Aemond shifts back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other, absentmindedly pressing the lid of his pen to his lips like he’s trying to solve a crossword in the morning paper. “What exactly was your husband’s main concern?”

There comes a familiar feeling, an emptiness in her chest like her body might concave, and a swelling in her eyes. She bites down on her lip to dispel the urge to cry.

Everyone around her loves to comment on how happy she is, how blessed she is to have such a happy marriage and a loving husband.

“He says I’ve been too emotional.”

“Emotional in what way?”

She tells him about the outburst two weeks ago, expecting him to tut and shake his head and chide her for her behaviour. Instead he watches her and listens.

“He says he doesn’t know what else to do with me. He says he does everything he can to make me happy, but that it’ll never be enough for me,” she says.

“And does he make you happy?” he asks.

Her answer hitches in her throat. The obvious response would be of course. He does what any good husband does, works, brings home a salary, sweet talks her mother and smokes cigars with her father when they visit every other Sunday.

Happiness seems to be an external factor, something people comment on and praise her. When other people say she is happy she wears it with pride, like a medal or a precious piece of jewellery.

She loves her husband, as well as any self respecting woman does. She reminds herself that’s the whole reason why she’s here.

At her silence Aemond smiles to himself and begins to write. She follows how his fingertips grip the pen and how the tendons in his hands flex.

“Wait!” she says, shuffling forward in her seat.

He pauses and looks at her like he did before, with his chin tilted down.

“No– I meant to say yes. Yes, he makes me happy.”

His eyes move around her face and briefly down, over the pearl charm hanging from her neck, her white blouse and her hands bunched in her blue skirt. She releases them when she realises he’s looking and rests them on the arms of the chair instead.

This feels like a test, one in which every word and gesture will be put to scrutiny, earning either a curious “hmm” or a scratching of the pen against the paper. She wonders which is worse.

“How long have you been married?” he asks.

“A year in July.”

“No children?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

His question leaves a tight feeling in her chest and in her gut.

Aemond sets the pen down on the desk without making a sound. “Sorry, I know these questions can be obtrusive. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it would be useful to know what I’m working with.”

That’s an odd way to phrase it, she thinks.

“No it’s alright,” she says, her fingers moving anxiously over each other. “It’s not for lack of trying. We… try a few times a week. Usually on the weekends or when he’s not tired– he’s often tired after work.”

“And how is it?”

“Oh, um–” without thinking her hands move back into her lap and she starts to pick at the red nail polish. “He says there’s something wrong with me.”

Aemond tilts his head. “Wrong with you?”

She squeezes her thighs together at the familiar memory of her husband’s downright painful attempts to make love to her. He practically has to force his way inside of her and she can never stand it for more than a few thrusts before she pushes him off.

He was understanding for the first few months, but she can tell it’s starting to irritate him now. She doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work, what she could possibly be doing wrong.

“Does he prepare you?”

She looks up with a knitted brow. “Prepare me?”

He tuts and mutters something that sounds like “poor thing,” before scrawling another quick note.

Then he stands, rolling up the sleeves of his white coat and the black shirt underneath. “I want to check a few things,” he says, cocking his head towards the examination table on the other side of the room.

She follows dutifully, propping her hands against the leather upholstery and pushing herself up to sit on it. Her black heels don’t reach the floor. She crosses them at the ankle and lets them swing a little.

Once Aemond has washed his hands he approaches her. He’s tall, she realises as he stands before her. His hips are level with her knees and the edge of the table and while he’s not quite close enough to touch her, her legs twitch at the proximity.

She tries to avert her gaze from the somewhat intense expression in his eyes as he simply looks at her. Her eyes don’t stop moving, looking past his shoulder or down at her sides, but there’s not anything interesting to look at.

She focuses on the steady ticking of the clock, counting ten long seconds before she realises she’s holding her breath.

When she finally releases she finds herself focusing instead on the gentle sounds of Aemond’s breath through his nose, the smell of his hair gel, musky aftershave and the lingering scent of smoke.

Warm fingertips brush against her jaw as he brings her to look at him. She can feel the slight roughness of the pads of his fingers, but he’s gentle when he touches her, almost cautious.

He leans in a little closer until he’s touching her knees. She doesn’t let herself react but her heart is drumming furiously, more so when his thumb strokes over her cheek. He moves back and forth, grazing the corner of her mouth, before he swipes it over her lower lip.

She relaxes her mouth as he presses and tugs on the soft flesh. It’s somehow both terrifying and oddly reassuring.

And then he settles, pressing both of her lips into a slight pout while his fingertips rest against her jaw and the top of her neck.

“Open your mouth for me,” he says.

She stares back at him with wide eyes. Had she heard that correctly?

The corners of his mouth curl politely, waiting for her compliance.

So she does as he asks.

With his fingers holding her chin, Aemond inches his thumb into her mouth, settling on her tongue. His skin tastes clean and faintly medicinal from the amber soap.

“You can close your mouth,” he says.

She keeps her eyes on his as she closes her lips around him, careful not to touch him with her teeth.

He hums again, low and contentedly. “Good girl.”

She shudders at the sudden weightlessness in her belly.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

She gives him a small nod.

"Good," he utters, "just breathe."

She loses count of the seconds on the clock as he simply settles inside of her. She does as he says, breathing deeply through her nose, looking up at him through her eyelashes, trying to read if he's pleased or not.

When he starts to withdraw and she instinctively drags her tongue along his thumb. She looks down at his hand, the imprint of her mauve lipstick on his skin, the glistening digit and the small line of spit that trails from her mouth, which he wipes away with his fingers.

“How did that feel?” he asks.

She thinks for a moment. “Good.”

He glances down and her eyes follow, to the fabric of her skirt. When she stands it falls to her shin, but seated, the hem rides up to just below her knees. He places a wide hand on her left knee, their skin separated only by a thin layer of nylon stockings.

“These outbursts of yours,” he mutters, “are they a regular occurrence?”

“Not really,” she says.

“What do you think caused it?”

She presses her teeth together and looks away from him to think. “Lots of things I suppose. It all piles up.”

“How did it feel, to shout at your husband?”

She huffs a laugh at the instinct that appears in her head, it’s not something she should ever admit, but there’s something about Aemond’s eyes and the feeling of his hands that make her want to tell him the truth,

“I liked it, I was just so…” she shakes her head looking for the right word, but she supposes there’s a simpler explanation. “I was so angry, angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“What were you angry at?” Aemond asks, his thumb starting to stroke against her thigh.

Would it be too much to list every aspect of her life that irritates her?

She hates a lot of things. She hates tidying the house just for it to get messy again. She hates it when her new shoes dig into her skin and make her bleed. She hates that she seems incapable of interacting with another person without suffering their scrutiny. She hates it when people tell her that her life is perfect.

Everything races around in her head, screaming and shouting at her until the noise becomes silent, just a throbbing pain in her head.

“Just… everything,” she groans, rubbing her fingertips against her temple. “I don’t understand it, everyone says our life together is so perfect, but I don’t feel perfect.”

His hand moves away from her and she looks up at the absence.

Aemond takes a slow breath. “Are you familiar with hysteria?”

Her heart sinks and he seems to see it in her face.

He purses his lips for a moment before he explains, “it’s essentially an excess of ill-managed emotions. It can lead to irrational behaviour and quite severe distress.”

She’s heard of the condition before, sparse stories here and there of men who had no choice but to seek proper treatment for their wives when they are too emotional… irrational… hysterical.

She’s not like those women, surely, and her husband knows that, right?

“Is that what's wrong with me?” she asks.

His mouth quirks. “Quite possibly.”

“But I’ve heard of women with this condition before. I’ve heard what their husbands do to them, I—” she can feel her eyes beginning to well with hot, stinging tears. “That’s not going to happen to me, is it?”

She hangs her head, dread pooling in her belly, until his hands cup the sides of her face. Aemond brings her gaze up into his eyes.

“Don’t send me away,” she whispers, blinking the tears from her eyes so they roll down her cheeks. “Please, there must be something you can do–”

“There there, pet,” he says, tracing his thumbs along her teartracks, “everything is going to be alright, hmm? We can sort you out.”

She nods at his reassurance and the feeling of his hands against her skin. It must be entirely improper to be so close to another man, even more so when she starts to realise just how much she likes it, a sweet sort of unease. Perhaps that’s just his nature, perhaps he’s just good at this part of his job.

For a moment he presses his lips together in a strange way, like he’s holding something back. “There is one treatment I’m keen to suggest,” he says.

“What treatment?” she asks.

He tilts his head slightly. “Hysteria is an instability of emotion. You need a release.”

“Like when I shouted at my husband?”

He smiles at that. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

She nods.

“We can undergo controlled releases,” he says, “you’ll be much happier for it.”

She takes a sharp breath when one of his hands moves down from her cheek to rest casually at her waist.

“I can start the treatment today, if you’d like?”

His face is close to hers now, She feels every flutter of his breath, the heat of his body separated by inches of empty space.

“Yes please,” she says quietly, like she might disturb the peacefulness in the room if she speaks any louder. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Don’t worry, pet, we’ve still got plenty of time left,” he says, stepping away. “Take your skirt off, and lie back.”

Suddenly her skin feels tight. “My skirt?”

“If you don’t mind?” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards his desk. “It just makes things a little easier, maybe the blouse too.”

She hops down from the table, heels clicking against the floor. While Aemond’s pen scratches against paper, she turns her back and starts to pick at the buttons on the top of her blouse. She pulls it over her head and folds it, setting it down on the table, where her head will go. Then she pulls down the zip on her skirt and lets it fall around her. For the slightly mortifying prospect of standing there in her stockings and undergarments, the breeze from the window washes over the bare skin of her arms and torso. It’s quite nice, a welcome relief.

She waits with her heels close together and her hands clasped in front of her. Aemond has his back to her and she watches the way the sunlight catches in the silvery streaks of his hair. He tears a sheet from the pad of prescription papers and leaves it on his desk before he moves to the sink to wash his hands. It’s methodical, like before, well rehearsed and memorised for efficiency. Does he even have to think about what he’s doing, she wonders?

Once his hands are dried he reaches into a drawer under his desk. He keeps his eyes on the small object in his hands as he walks towards her.

She straightens her back and puts her hands on the table behind her, testing her weight so she can shuffle on top of it.

Aemond looks up and she pauses.

His eyes dart up and down her body. “Shoes and stockings off too.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks but she complies, reaching down to undo the small buckles on each shoe. Once they’re under the table she stands straight and curls her thumbs around her stockings.

She looks up to Aemond. He gives her a small nod.

She starts to pull the thin material down her legs, so thin it should hardly make a difference. She shivers as the breeze meets a new part of her body. She straightens again, dutifully awaiting her next instruction.

The corners of Aemond’s mouth curl. “Perfect,” he mutters.

He steps closer to her, until she can make out the object in his hands. It’s a coppery colour, gleaming like metal, and no smaller than a tube of lipstick. He slips it into his coat pocket.

She follows Aemond’s hand as he reaches out and runs a slender finger under the strap of her brassiere. “I think we’ll keep this on,” he says.

She nods, though she doesn’t really know why.

A hum sounds in his throat and his eyes look over her face. “Lie back.”

She does as he says and fiddles with her hands, unsure of where to put them until she decides to keep them by her sides. Anticipation sets her nerves alight. She listens to every breath, each taunting footstep as Aemond comes to stand at the foot of the bed.

He moves slowly so as not to agitate her, but her whole body tenses when his hands clasp around her ankles. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, but even when softly spoken his voice leaves a restless feeling in her gut. “Shh, try to relax, and just let me…” he lifts her legs up along her body until her knees are by her hips. His hands go to her thighs next and she lets out a short whimper of surprise when he pulls her closer to him.

“There we go,” he muses to himself, one hand on her thigh while he gently rests the other on her navel, over the hem of her panties.

Her hands are restless, fists clenching and nails digging into her palms.

Aemond looks down at her with a hint of concern. “You can tell me if you want to stop, at any point.”

“No it’s alright,” she breathes, suppressing the urge to arch her back.

His brows raise as he looks down, grazing his fingertips over her skin. Each movement has her breath hitching or her body squirming, no matter how hard she tries to relax, just as he’d instructed.

He brings both hands to her knees, closing them together before he reaches for her panties and slides them from her legs. She doesn’t see where he drops them. Her hands come into fists again as he gradually spreads her legs.

She’s not sure what to expect or how this is supposed to help her control her emotions, but she tries to concentrate on staying still, keeping whatever dignity she has left.

“Look at that,” Aemond hums, circling his thumbs against her inner thighs, “you’re already getting wet.”

She can feel it, the warmth pooling between her legs. No one has ever told her it’s bad, but it’s one of those things she wonders if she should be ashamed of. She tries to shift but there’s nowhere for her body to go, nowhere she can hide from him.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, “it’s not bad, is it?”

Aemond frowns. “You mean you don’t…” he trails off as his face melts into an amused sort of sympathy, like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “Bad news for your husband maybe. It means you’re aroused.”

Aroused. She repeats the word to herself a few times.

Surely it is a bad thing to find herself in such a state, only she finds herself turning her attention to Aemond. Her gaze trails shamelessly over the veins and tendons of his hands and forearms as he kneads at her thighs, the curve of his upper lip and the tip of his tongue swiping between his teeth. If only she could read his mind, figure out what he’s thinking behind those pretty blue eyes, what hypothesis he’s playing around with inside his head.

And then he reaches into his pocket. She lifts her head to try and get a better look. The coppery object looks more like an oversized bullet, with a slightly pointed head and a black button at its base. When Aemond presses the button it starts to hum. Even the noise of it sparks a reaction from her. She feels something strange, like a shockwave flashing through her body.

“Relax,” Aemond says, bringing his other hand to her hip. “I don’t want to have to tie you down.”

“No,” she utters, “sorry.” She lets her head fall against the upholstery and stares up at the ceiling, determined not to react.

Until something presses to her centre, humming against her. Pleasure pulses through her, unfamiliar but hot and bright. Her eyes snap shut and her hips try to buck but Aemond’s hand holds her down.

“How does it feel?” he says.

Her first attempt to speak comes out as a broken whimper. “Good,” she manages, stilling her hips from trying to rock against the bullet. “Fuck…”

Something inside of her feels tight, tensing and tensing until she’s sure she can’t take any more. But he keeps it against her, making small, rhythmic movements through her folds, edging her closer to that rising feeling only to relieve her of it.

Her nails start to drag along the leather, clawing at it for purchase. She tries to stay still, to keep her hips steady but something has to give. She turns her head to the side, whimpering and groaning into her shoulder.

“There you go,” Aemond hums, as he finds a truly torturous pattern, slowly swiping upwards from her entrance to the sweet spot of her pearl, only to start over.

“Please,” she whimpers as he tears her away from that feeling again. Blissful tears blur her vision and she feels utterly weightless. “I can’t stand it…”

He lingers the bullet just below her pearl. She’s so close to something. She can feel it.

“Do you want to stop?” Aemond asks.

“No!” she cries.

He starts to move in small circles now and her body feels like it’s burning. “Just take it,” he says, “you can take it, just be a good girl for me, hmm?”

“Yes… yes…” she utters like a dreamy chant.

The button clicks and the vibrations increase. She hardly registers the wanton noises she makes, but she’s all too aware of wet sounds of her arousal and Aemond’s short hums when her hips start to buck again.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Aemond says. “Come on, pet, you can do it, you’re almost there…”

She feels the hum of her throat as she groans his name and suddenly the tight feeling snaps. Her whole body releases, just as Aemond promised, and she feels herself come undone. He guides her through it, the bullet whirring against her and his hand steady on her hip.

When he finally withdraws, her limbs don’t feel like her own. She listens to her own breath and feels the rise and fall of her chest as she wills herself into a state of awareness. She props herself onto her elbows and her eyes meet Aemond’s.

He smirks, and looks down again, gently drawing a thumb through her folds.

Her back arches and her breath hitches, though not as intensely as before. She can feel how slick she is now, how easily he moves against her. She eases under his touch and just lets it feel good.

“You did so well,” he says, “fuck, the way your cunt twitches when you come…”

She gazes at him with a bewildered kind of awe, at his parted lips, the golden glow of sunlight trailing down his jaw and his neck, and now the dark, almost hungry look in his eyes. She can already feel the desire rising again, the wanting for more.

“There’s something else I want to try,” he says. His thumb slips further down, teasing her entrance. “If you’ll let me?”

She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.

“Good girl,” he hums.

That alone has her trying to roll her hips against him, but then he’s gone. She wants to groan in protest but keeps her mouth shut as she watches him remove his white coat and black shirt, both of which he drapes over his chair. For his seemingly slender frame, he’s surprisingly muscular.

With his back still turned to her she watches his hands move to his trousers. She hears the clinking of his belt buckle and the sound of his fly coming undone. He reaches back into the same drawer, tears something between his teeth and discards a small, white packet on the desk.

As he comes to stand before her once more she can’t help the small smile that graces her lips, unashamedly appreciating the muscles of his torso, his pectorals and the lines of his abdominals, and his now freed cock, already hard, and certainly larger than her husband’s.

He stands before her once again, bringing her knees down so he can slot himself between her legs.

She can already feel herself twitching and her heart racing.

He doesn’t waste much time on preamble. “You’re fucking soaked,” he mutters, lining the his cock to her entrance and taking a hold of her thigh, “be a shame to waste it.”

She expects it to hurt when he pushes inside of her, and for a moment it does. She feels the way he stretches her out with just the tip. He moves slowly, dragging in and out of her, each time pushing in a little more. She can take the pain, at least until it starts to melt away. After a few strokes it feels effortless.

Aemond lets out a sharp grunt as he comes close to bottoming out. “How does it feel?” he asks with a small amount of strain.

It’s a different kind of pleasure, it’s duller and deeper, less frantic but it still burns in the best way.

“Good,” she breathes.

Aemond’s hands take hold of her waist as he increases his pace, dragging her into him to match his thrusts.

The air feels hot and thick now, the ticking of the clock drowned out by laboured panting, breathless moans and the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he hisses, sinking his fingertips deeper into her flesh.

“I don’t suppose that’s a medical term?” she says with a dazed grin.

Aemond huffs a laugh but it seems to spur him on, his jaw slack and his brow furrowed in determination.

She wraps her legs around his hips and reaches up for him, but all she manages is to graze her fingertips over his torso. He snatches her wrists, leaning over to pin them on either side of her head as he brutally starts to snap her hips into hers. Like this he fucks her deeper and harder against the leather.

She feels her release building slowly, his cock brushing against a spot that has her eyes watering again.

“Going to come for me?” Aemond grits out, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I want to,” she whimpers, arching her back to get closer to him, “fuck–”

He releases one of her wrists and slips his hand between them, circling her pearl with the pads of his fingers.

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear. “You’re squeezing me so good,” he whispers harshly, “nearly there, nearly there sweetheart…”

Her legs start to shake as her pleasure peaks and her climax washes over her. Every part of her body tenses and moulds itself into him. Aemond doesn’t relent, he keeps fucking her until she’s whining and squirming, until finally he lets out a guttural groan into her neck. His hips still and she feels him throbbing inside of her, spilling himself into the condom.

For a moment she’s content to lie there, no matter how uncomfortable the surface of the bed is. She likes Aemond’s weight on top of her, his breath on her neck, the scent of him, the sweat from his brow against her skin. But they don’t stay like that for long. He pulls away from her and makes quick work of disposing of the condom and tucking himself back into his trousers.

“Nothing wrong in that regard,” he says, reaching for her hand to help her sit up. “If you’re having trouble it’s the fault of your husband. He needs to prepare you before he tries to fuck you.”

She flicks her hair from her neck to relieve some of the heat. “Oh, right.” She can feel herself trembling, but she feels light, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks, placing a reassuring hold to her arm.

“Good,” she says.

Aemond carefully helps her back into her panties, stockings, shoes, blouse and skirt. He rights her necklace, wipes the dried tears from her cheeks, drags his thumb around her mouth where her lipstick has smudged and helps her down from the bed, keeping a firm hand on her until she nods to let him know she’s alright.

He tears off a prescription paper and hands it to her. She quickly skims over it. He’s not prescribed any medication or recommended a lobotomy, thank God.

“Contraction therapy?” she reads, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“I want to see you twice weekly,” he says, buttoning up his shirt. “Maybe we can go for three times a week, if you feel it would be beneficial.”

She tries her best to hide her smile. “Well I’m sure you know best, doctor.”

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#aemond targaryen #my fics #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

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brokebonewritings · 2 months

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Never Before, Never Again

Astarion x Fem! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Angst, Abuse, Death, Mentions of Blood, Smut

Summary: It’s been six month since settling down in Baldur’s Gate with Astarion. After killing Cazador, you notice his aggressive nature taking over. How long will it take for you to be truly done with his wrath.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I want to start off by apologizing but I felt so inspired after the new romance scenes in Patch 6. I also want to say that I will be writing a good ole, fluff fic with Astarion just to make up for this.

Navigation || Masterlist

You paced down the corridor of the palace you now shared with Astarion. It had been 6 months since that fateful night. The killing of Cazador had been eventful so to say and shortly after you had accepted his invitation to be his. Forever.

It wasn't the same. You started noticing it little by little. His attitude towards you had become increasingly aggressive. Feral even.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air whenever Astarion was around. His once charming demeanor had turned into something darker. As you walked through the palace corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.

Reaching the library, you decided to throw yourself into your research. You were a scholarly warlock, after all. And work you did. For hours you studied magic texts, and the histories behind them.

As you sat in the dimly lit library, Astarion entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. When you turned, you tried to shake off the feeling of fear that gripped your chest as he approached you.

"Darling, is this where you've been all day?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've missed you and your delicious body."

The room turned cold as his words sank in. Something had changed in him, something dark and possessive.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his unsettling presence. "I've been busy with my studies," you replied, keeping your tone neutral despite the growing sense of dread in your heart.

The dread whenever he was around had only appeared in the most recent weeks. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but his proximity was suffocating.

Astarion's hand suddenly shot out and slammed the book shut, causing you to jump in your seat. His grip on the tome was tight, his knuckles turning white as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin.

"Studies can wait," he whispered, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "I have other ways for us to spend our time together."

You had to play along. It was the only way to appease him. The only way you could escape.

"How is that, my love?" You say as you rise from your seat, taking his outstretched hand gently.

In a swift motion he pulls you in close to his chest. As he held you tightly against him, his grip almost bruising, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of thrill.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, "I want to show you a new side of pleasure, my dear. A side that only I can unlock for you." His words were laced with seduction.

As he guided you out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors of the palace, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being led into the unknown.

You found yourself in a room you were very familiar with. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic, and as Astarion's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, you realized truly you were not in the presence of the man you one knew.

"Darling, did you bring me in here to ravish me?" You say as you begin to remove your silk dress.

Watching his eyes darken with hunger, his lips curled into a sinister smile. He circled around you like a predator assessing its prey, his fingertips trailing lightly along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He finally stops behind you and reaches around your neck to grip your jaw. His touch was both possessive and delicate, a stark contrast that sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. As he tilted your head back to expose your vulnerable throat, you could feel the weight of his gaze burning into your skin.

Astarion's voice was a low murmur against your ear, promising whispered secrets and forbidden desires. "Oh, my sweet little morsel," he murmured, "I am going to make sure there is not a single place on your skinned that is untouched."

His mouth finds the pressure point in your neck and you moan as he gives it a gentle bite. You know he can feel you tremble beneath his hand. He trails his kisses lower until he is able to fully sink his teeth in.

You begin to gasp and writhe under his touch, the intensity of his grip and the sharp sting of his bite both arousing and terrifying. And then, as suddenly as it began, Astarion pulls away, leaving you breathless and exposed.

"Astarion!" You shout, hand covering the bite marks on your neck. "I told you to ask before doing that!"

"I do not need to ask permission! You are mine! I own you!" He grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

That did not stop the tears from beginning to drip down your cheeks. Everything he did not want to become, he was. After countless promises that he was the same rogue you had met that fateful day.

"Oh darling, do you see what you have made me do?" He whispers. "You know I don't like to shout at you."

Astarion's features softened as he saw the tears on my face, though his eyes remained distant and cold. He slowly released my arm and stepped back.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in your body. "You need to control yourself, Astarion. You are beginning to change into someone I don't know."

"Of course I am changing. I am the most powerful being in this world." He walks over to the chair by his desk. "Are you doubting me now?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but to submit to the question. "No, no. Of course not, love."

He motions with his finger for you to come to him and you obey. When you approach him, he motions for you to kneel before him. Once again you obey his command.

"Here is what we are going to do, pet." He begins "You are going to be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?"

You nod. "Yes I understand."

"Such a good girl, aren't you?"

He stands and steps forward grabbing hold of your chin and bringing you in for a searing kiss. Once he was satisfied, he pushes against your cheek causing you to fall back roughly. You try to catch your breath as you sit there, staring up at him.

"Get undressed, and sit on the bed for me, darling."

You stand and finally fully undress. You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the silk sheets beneath you. You didn't know how to react at this point.

He stepped closer until he was looming over you, his shadow engulfing you in its darkness. Then, he reached down and began to trace the outline of your body with his fingers, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice low and seductive.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you find yourself doing as he says, unable to resist his authority. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, his gaze lingering on each part of your body that he intends to claim.

Finally, he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You tremble as he slowly makes his way up, his tongue tracing a path along the delicate flesh. Each touch of his lips and tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips reach your most intimate place, you arch your back, your breath coming in short gasps. You feel him tease you, his tongue flicking against you, driving you mad with desire.

Astarion smiles, a wicked smile, as he notices the effect he's having on you. He pulls back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he begins to devour you. His tongue plunges inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you that threaten to consume you.

You can't help but cry out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moves inside you. You are completely at his mercy, your body arching and writhing as he takes you to heights you never thought possible. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leans down and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

"Now," he says, his voice low and commanding, "It's time for you to learn what it means to truly be mine."

You nod, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. With one swift motion, he grabs your hips as he flips you over. You lay there a moment, listening to the ties of his pants coming undone.

He lifts you up and positions you at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide to reveal your vulnerability. His powerful hands grip your hips, and he begins to enter you slowly, his movements deliberate, almost intimate.

You gasp in pain, then pleasure, as the feeling of fullness envelops you, overwhelming your senses. He moves harder, faster, and you can't help but arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning his name over and over.

He continues to dominate you, his voice a low rumble in your ear, promising you more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Your body responds, writhing beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets, your moans echoing through the dimly lit room.

"That's it, my love," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "Take it all."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breath ragged, and you felt his grip on your hips tighten. Astarion's eyes lock on yours, and you see the intensity of his desire reflected in them. With one final thrust, he groans your name, and you feel him spill inside you.

When you feel him slip out of you, you can't help but turn yourself around to face him. You were met with the unpleasant feeling of a sharp dagger being pressed against your chest.

"Astarion?"

"I know exactly what you are planning to do to me, Darling."

The dagger you had hidden in the pocket of your dress was the exact one that was being held against you.

"Please Astarion, it doesn't have to be like this!" You begin to cry. The man you once knew and loved had been left in that chamber.

"Oh, but it does have to be like this." He presses the dagger a little harder causing you to wince in pain. "You were the last person I expected to betray me."

"Betray you?" You choke out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Darling." Astarion's voice is cold and murderous, and you can see it in his eyes. "We both know that's a lie."

He steps closer, the dagger still pressed against your chest. You can feel the cold metal prick you, causing you to jolt in pain.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you plan to do to me?"

"You are becoming exactly like Cazador, Astar-"

"Don't ever mutter his name in here again!" His voice seized with venom. "I am more than he ever was! Smarter, Powerful."

His grip tightened around the dagger, its edge digging deeper into your flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. Your heart raced with fear, but you couldn't help but retort, "And yet, you still lack control."

As he raises the dagger back to plunge it into your chest, you quickly maneuver and shove him into the bed without second thought. The knife falls from his hand and slides onto the floor near your feet.

You take a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. This situation has escalated far beyond what you had anticipated, and now you need to act quickly to save yourself.

Staring into Astarion's eyes, his murderous intent shining back at you. With a surge of adrenaline, you push yourself off the bed and lunge for the dagger on the floor. You manage to grab it just as he jumps to his feet, ready to pounce.

With the dagger in hand, you cautiously back away from him, trying to keep your distance. "Listen to me, Astarion," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the trembling in your body. "You have hurt me beyond words can explain! I have had enough!"

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted!"

"And yet you have taken everything I needed!"

Astarion's eyes narrowed at your words, and he took a step towards you, menace radiating from him. You raised the dagger in front of you, preparing to defend yourself if necessary.

"You betrayed me, Darling. You lied to me, and now you want to take my life?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I never wanted this! I just wanted.. I just wanted you to be the person you were before, but you've become someone else. Someone I don't recognize."

"I was always this person!" He shouts, you see his hands shaking with anger. "You could not change that even if you tried."

Astarion took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew he was about to do something that would change the course of both of your lives.

"I'm tired of being your spawn, Astarion."

With that, Astarion lunged at you. The dagger that was held tightly in your hand was raised as you plunged it into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the cold steel and wood pierce his chest.

Blood spills from his mouth before he speaks. "I thought you loved me."

"I did love you." You sob, "But I knew for a while that you truly didn't love me."

You watch as his body convulses for a moment before going limp. You step back, staring at the lifeless form before you. The room is silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space.

Taking a deep breath, the shock of the moment is still fresh in your mind. You never thought it would come to this.

You sink to your knees beside his body, the weight of what you've done heavy on your chest. The blood is still warm as you reach down to touch it, a single tear falling onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Astarion," you whisper. "But I had to do it. I had to save you from yourself."

Slowly, you rise to your feet, your legs shaking with the realization of what you've done. You take in the scene before you, the remnants of your love now tainted with blood and death.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the blood from your hands, leaving behind a red smudge on the wall. You grab armor from the wardrobe before finally leaving the palace. When you reached the door and opened it, the cool day air felt cool against your skin.

Looking back one final time, you realize just how trapped you had been. Now free, you felt the weight of sadness as you set out on your own once again. You would never let this happen again.

Taglist: @fruityrituals @guacam011y

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #astarion smut

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itsmebytch001 · 10 months

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Yes, here I am asking myself shit beacuse I am loosing my mind.

(Not really)

Yan Dad Miguel X adpoted daughter who trises to keep out Miguel from his overbeaing love so she baracdes the door to her room????

Hello Me!!! (I'm not mad, just odd)

Miguel Had snatched you out your own universe a few months ago, keeping you in his flat, under constant servelince with the only company you had was LYLA, she was fine but you needed somthing more than her, and Miguel.

When Miguel was home he was lovely, truly unsettling but lovely. He brought you presents like clothing, flowers, jewllery and books! He

would kiss you on your cheek (if You'd let him) and hold you tight.

And at this point Miguel had been gone for three days, LYLA had been good company, shown you films, played games with you, done some dress up all that. And to be honest, you dreaded the time Miguel, or Papa (he made you call him) would come back, it was supposed to be this afternoon, you had made dinner for the both of you as knew it was expected, plus he had been out for 3 days doing god knows what and he must have been tired after all that he should't have to cook for himself aswell.

Honestly you are beggining to feel like a platonic house wife.

Why should you cook, really? You don't owe him aything, he put you here! keeps you here like a dog, treats you like your mad whenever you call him out for how absurd this all is!! You are not his daughter, you are not an alt Gabi and yet he behaves as if you, and almost adult are just a quivering little leaf lost in the wind with out his fatherly guidence!!

The heavily secured door opens, and here you start again to grittedly smile at him as he enters, holding is arms out to you, expecting a hug.

Miguel: "Ahh Y/N! Iv'e missed you dear!

Y/N: "Hey Miguel"

He tiredly sighed and wagged his finger in your face.

Miguel: "Y/N we have been over this, It's Papa"

You turnded around back to the stove to pile up his food, rolling your eyes with your back to him.

Y/N: "Yes papa" You said as genuliey as you could, he bought it!

He sits at the table where you bring him his food, then your own as you sit infront of him acroos the small table, sulking to yourself, my god you were lonely, missing friends, work, your Mum. Miguel in the beggining would always press to you that a young girl having a fatherly mentor was good, so it was fine that he would just appear at your work to pick you, show up at your home to scould you for not cleaning your room, throw out your lunches to replace with the ones me had made for you beacuse his were more nutrious, that it was okay when your boss was being a dick that he then turned up at your work to beat his arse, it was all just his fatherly love!

Now you are here, alone, and trapped.

As you pick at your food he notices your unhappy face.

Miguel: "Mija, why the long face?"

Y/N: " I told you to stop calling me that"

Miguel; "Excuse me?"

Y/N: "I'm not your daughter, I'm not an alternative of your daughter, we aren't even blood!"

Miguel: "Y/n, don't be rude now, we may not be blood but we are family, and as your guardian It is my job to look after you"

Y/N: "Two things, My guardian is supposed to be my Mum, and This-*Gestures to sourdings* Is not taking care of me this is holding me hostage!"

Miguel appears irratated.

Migeul: "I put you here beacuse your mother is reckless, you are reckless! I knew That I could provide you with a batter life!"

Y/N: "THIS IS NOT A LIFE!" You yell throwing your hands up!

Y/N: "And how dare you talk about my fucking Mum! she tried, she was there, she supported me, and YOU just swooped me up, disreagted everything she did for me to sooth yourself for what you are now doing to me!"

Miguel: "ENOUGH!" he yelled slamming his hands down on the table, shaking it, though you ratinally knew he wouldn't hit you, that did't stop you being afraid.

Miguel: "Go to your room"

Y/N: "fuck you Miguel"

Miguel: "Go before I drag you!"

Y/N knew he was serious, so she went begrugged.

Slamming the door behind her, she heard Miguel from the bottom floor yell.

Miguel: "Don't you dare slam my doors in my fucking house!"

Y/N: "I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING GABIRELLA!"

You heard a smash...

Then a silence.

You know, ratinally it's out of cheacter for him to hit you he never would really, but your silly institcs come it.

...barracde the door.

so you did, with chair, a book shelf and a chest of draws the door is slealed.

About half a hour later you hear a soft knock, on the other side Miguel is leaning on the door, full of remorse.

Miguel: " Y/n, I'm s-Listen you were very rude down stairs but I shouldn,t have smashed anything, or swore at you"

You don't answer, you are to angry.

Miguel: "...Y/n?"

...

Miguel: "Answer me Mija"

How dare he call you that, again you think. You remain silent and you hear the door hanlde giggle.

Miguel: "ay, Mija open this door!"

Y/N: Please just go away!"

Miguel knew the door had no locking mechanism, you must put somthinh heavy infont of it.

Miguel: "Not before you open this door right now!"

He knows with his strengh he could really just bust though the door right now, but he wants you to open the door, he wants you to let him in, to him its proof you love him enough as your 'father' to allow him in.

Miguel: "Mij-"

Y/N: "Shut The FUCK UP!" You are so tired of that fucking title!

Miguel snaps, and bursts though the door in one fatal swoop.

The rubble of your bookshelf, chair's and other things clatter aroud your room smashed inot little spliters of wood. You cower on your bed, tucking away from him under a blanket like a little girl. As he body relaxes and he stand's all tall and looming like, he intiannly thinks he'll just yell at you, lecture you about rescepct and saftey for awhile and then cuddle you for awhile, hold you like a baby and carry you around.

But once he actually looked at you he saw how you turtled into yourself, shaking and crying, tensing even more as you heard him walk over to you. truly it saddned him to see you vulnarable, but also awoke a real fathery insticnt to comfort you.

laying on the bed with you he pulled you into him, cowering as he wrapped his arms arouund you, pulling you into his chest as he sighed into your hair.

Miguel: "I'm sorry My love, I'm sorry I scared you so, shhhhhh I say, It's okay, papa is sorry"

if it werent for how truly scared you are, you have told to fuck off again, but until then, all you could do is cry into miguels chest terrified as he tenderily stroked your head and back, shushing you ever so slight.

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel #yandere atsv

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uglypastels · 10 months

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Not Wholly Evil |V| Pirate!Eddie au

a/n thank you to @eddies-house for helping me figure out this darn chapter. you saved me from a menty b.

please remember to support by reblogging and commenting!! you don't know how much it helps writers

Series Masterlist

word count: 8.2k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 5: Flintlock

“A taste for adventure is by no means a masculine monopoly” ― Lloyd Alexander

It was certainly strange, seeing the cabin through the daylight. The wooden panelling of the walls and floor looked softer, and the decorations on the walls were no longer covered in menacing shadows. The bed, however, was softer than your dream made it seem. It was better than the ground, but knowing who usually occupied it made your back stiff with dread.

The room was empty as you got up, stretching your body out of the foreign feeling of a bed. Another thing to thank the captain for— perverting the concept of a bed. There was no space for anyone to hide in the cabin, but you still looked around, waiting for him to appear out of thin air. It seemed like just the thing he could do and had been doing all your time on board. Only once you checked every corner could you properly set your mind at rest.

Besides the sunshine, nothing had changed from the night before. It was as if you had stepped through time, from night to morning. Your old clothes hung on the edge of the bed. The bookcase was missing the one book you had pulled out, leaving the rest at an awkward angle. Your dinner plate and ale jug, alongside the captain’s empty rum bottle, were left behind on the desk, but as you walked towards the table, you noticed the cup to be filled again, and on the plate stood two thick slices of bread and some brightly coloured fruit you had not seen before—more food that must have been retrieved during the brief exploration of the nameless island. You sat down on the throne and tried to push aside the feeling that came whenever you touched something, anything, to do with the captain. It was like he haunted all his possessions, never leaving you alone.

The bread was the safest option; it was your first bite, breaking your fast. After the delicious meal you had been given last evening, the salty dryness of the dough did not compare by the slightest, but the cool fresh water that had also been left for you made up for it.

And the fruit…

You were still unsure of what it was, but the juice of it felt healing to your senses. You ate it slowly, trying to savour every bite.

Once done, you noticed that all the documents the captain had thrown off last night still lay spread out on the ground. This, in particular, unsettled you. Just seeing the mess of it all splayed out there. So, without much thought, you went to pick up the papers, stacking them in neat piles and placing them on the corner of the large desk. Soon enough, you were done, and only one piece of paper was left. It had fallen right under the desk. You went to pull it out when you noticed it.

The drawer you had tried to open the night before. The one Munson had unlocked with the key around his neck and had taken a bottle of rum from. It was ajar. So close to being locked that Munson must have thought he had closed it when he slammed it. But no, with a quick pull at the handle, it opened up for you.

Inside was a collection of bottles in different shapes and sizes. Most were still full. You picked one up out of sheer curiosity. Why lock up this stock? Unless it was valuable, or dangerous? Maybe he tried to keep it away from everyone else on board. But as you held the bottle, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just a simple, red glass bottle, the cork wedged sturdily into the neck. The liquid sloshed against the container like any other drink as you tipped it around. Still trying to understand the content of the locked drawer, you put it down in its place.

Or were about to. Because that is when you noticed the paper sticking out from underneath the other bottles. That gnawing feeling in your stomach returned as you contemplated what to do. The captain had made it very clear he did not appreciate you looking through his things, and you were sure that if he were to catch you again, it would not end as simply as you having to star-gaze for an evening. The warnings were loud and clear.

Then again, when did you start caring about those? Or anything he said.

Moving the biggest bottles around carefully to create space, you pulled the paper out of the drawer. At first, you thought you had ripped it, but upon closer inspection, you realised it had been torn in halves long before you had gotten your hands on it. The paper was browned at the edges, a corner half-burned as if someone had decided against its destruction at the last minute. The words meant little at first, but as you read on and became more familiar with the hand they were written in, pieces fell into place. And they fell hard.

Like the loud clash you heard from outside the cabin, startling you. Scared you were about to get caught, you put the paper down into the drawer and shut it with your leg, holding your breath for the door to open. You waited for several seconds, but nothing moved.

You did not know what caused the commotion or if you were about to be greeted by someone outside the door, but you knew you could not stay in the cabin alone for much longer. The more time passed, the more similar the situation felt to the night before. The gnawing urge to look through all the drawers and nooks was just as big as the risk of being caught, and it was dangerous. Fortunately, the door opened flawlessly when you pulled at it.

It had remained a cloudless sky, but now the dark navy sprinkled with stars was exchanged for a vibrant and youthful blue. The sun hung above your heads, piercing the air onto your skin in a warm glow.

The crew was below you, spread out around the deck, and now one had looked up or probably even noticed your presence. So, making yourself comfortable on the stairs, you sat by, peeking through the balustrade bars, and watched what was happening. After all, it was a morning full of observations.

The men were spread out over the ship in groups, all busy with their own activities. The easiest to make out were those in a circle, watching as two of them attacked eachother with swords. The smiles on their faces told you enough; it was merely another session of training or some form of playfighting. The last time they had been doing it, you did not care to stand by and watch, not at all interested in their antics. This time, however, you took the opportunity to observe how they went about it. Since it was nothing but leisure, the moves were wide, easy to block, but once in a while, they would nick eachother just to stay sharp. Then, the attacked would groan in pain, grabbing at the part of their body that was hit in agony.

Each time it happened, the small crowd observing would show their satisfaction or disappointment, depending on which side of the duel they supported, with shouts and encouragement.

‘C’mon Harrington! Get him!’

‘Shut it, will you,’ “Harrington”, as he was called by his audience, turned to look in their way, annoyed, but in that short second, his opponent took a shot with his sword’s pommel, hitting him in his temple. Harrington was knocked back a few steps and had to shake the hit off but remained on his feet.

You were unsure what the game's rules were and how one would win in the circumstances, but one thing was clear—Harrington stood little chance as his opponent managed to get another cut in. A bruise, most likely from a previous encounter much like this one, had already formed under his eye, but even with the dark purple shade on his skin, you could not deny he looked quite handsome… for a criminal. You had seen him around, pulling at ropes, carrying around their precious cargo, and keeping other crewmates from breaking out into fistfights—he must have brought your meals down to the cell once too.

His brown hair was sleeked back but tended to move around as he did, so he constantly had to push it out of his face. The collar of his shirt was wide open, revealing a sweat-stained chest.

‘I really don’t get it,’ a raspy voice spoke from above you, making you strain your neck to look back up at the quarter-deck. Somehow, in your spectatorship of what was happening below, you had completely missed the fact that someone had been steering the ship and had, in fact, stood beside you next to the captain’s door all along.

You had not expected to hear your thoughts reciprocated and voiced anywhere near this ship, so they left you stunned. And perhaps this was the reason why you had not got up and run off at the sound of them or the presence of someone at your side but instead stammered out a clumsy response. ‘Sorry?’

‘They run around with their shiny sticks, hit each other just to cry about it like children,’ your new conversation partner said, ‘I just do not understand the appeal of it.’

‘No, me neither, really.’ In your opinion, there were much better, less barbaric ways to release energy and tension than this brutish behaviour. The fight below was still firmly underway, but you had gained a new interest in the person by your side. You couldn’t help but notice how they wore clothes in a very similar manner to you—a large shirt tightened by a leather vest, long trousers kept in and shorter with rope. It was as if they made do with things that had never been intended for them. Their hair could be short or long, depending on who you spoke to, but you could not tell.

‘I’ll tell you this, I’ve sailed across all possible seas in the world and men are still one of the biggest mysteries I have not been able to solve.’

You blinked slowly as the words reached your barely awake mind. A revelation that had struck you more than anything on board.

You weren’t the only woman here. The other just sat down next to you on the steps.

‘You can stop staring,’ she said, slightly frazzled, and you quickly looked away, mumbling an apology. Despite that, you kept stealing glances her way. Her hair, light as sand, was chopped messily as if done by hand with a blunt knife. Her skin was sunkissed with freckles and perhaps a bit of dirt. ‘I’m Buck. I know who you are, of course.’

‘How—’ How had you not seen her before? How were you not aware of a woman on board all this time? And perhaps it was wishful thinking to assume that she might be someone you could be comfortable with just from that one common trait, but you could not deny that something in you felt more at peace than seconds before.

‘Surrounded by this type, I understand you’d want to keep your head down,’ she smiled awkwardly, ‘but you can’t forget how to look up.’ She tilted her head back as she said it, so you followed suit. The sun blinded you, but as you focused on what was above you, you saw the masts towering tall in their black silhouettes and there, atop the tallest one, was the lookout point.

‘You sit in the crow’s nest,’ you smiled understandingly.

‘Robin’s nest, I took it upon myself to rename it, don’t know why, I just resonate more with them— call it superstition, I don’t know— and I’ve earned the right considering none of them want to make the climb.’ she pushed her chin towards the rest of the crew. ‘But it’s a good view, you should join me up there some day. If you ever need to get away, you know.’

‘I— I’m not the greatest with heights.’ The speed at which Buck spoke left your brain gripping onto words to keep up, and so your reply came out a bit frazzled.

‘Me neither,’ Buck shrugged. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t seen me get stuck in the nets before. It happens twice a day, at least.’

‘And they still let you climb up there?’ Surely, she could not be the smartest choice for the task. Robin snickered at your shocked expression.

‘Like I said, none of them will do it.’

‘Why do it at all, then? Why risk your life every day for… them?’ These hooligans, criminals, fraudsters, monsters, villains…

‘Because I am one ofthem.’ She knew what you had meant with your comment as she spoke softer, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder with her hand in reminder.

You glanced at the men in front of you and then turned back to Robin. ‘No, you’re really not.’

‘What because I’m a woman?’ Robin raised a brow.

‘Well, for starters.’ From a very early age, you knew that men and women were two entirely different beings. Just the way mankind treats eachother on that principle is evidence enough.

‘Intelligence wise, you would be correct,’ Robin stated, leaning back on the steps, resting her weight on her elbows. Despite her petite frame, you noticed she wasn’t afraid to take up space. Despite a comfortable distance between you, her knee still met with yours as she sat in a wide position. ‘But we are all just people.’

You had wanted to reply but thought better of it. She saw herself as a part of them, and so an insult to the others would be an insult to her, and for some reason, you did not want to say anything that might hurt her. Strangely, for a second, you considered the idea of actually liking her. Out of everyone aboard the Hellfire, the barrelwoman seemed like the most likely person you could find yourself befriending.

But before any more of the conversation could be led, giving you a chance to let those thoughts bloom or rot, another voice boomed over everyone else’s to prompt Buck of her duties.

‘Robin! The ship won’t steer itself!’ It was none other than Munson, but you could not find him among his people.

‘Aye, captain.’ Bunk, or Robin as she also went by apparently, rolled her eyes, getting up with a heaved breath. ‘See you around then.’

You didn’t say anything, too confused by your own thoughts. You couldn’t keep your eyes away as she returned to the helm; couldn’t stop thinking about what had brought her here? What had made her choose this life to live with all these men and act in such ways? You had wondered about everyone aboard the Hellfire, but Robin… a lady sea robber. You had never heard of such a thing. It was spinning your world around but also genuinely fascinating to think about. As you sat on that step, more things came to your mind: you wanted to ask Robin about life at sea, her crewmates, and her captain. But this opportunity had sailed; it would have to be another time.

You also could not believe you had just had a… civil exchange of words with one of them and that you had not even minded it all that much. As you looked around, it all did not feel as bad as it used to. You could see the idea of pleasantness in the actions happening before you; the laughter and the antics.

These antics continued. The fight you had been watching had not yet ended, but by the looks of Harrington, it could not possibly last much longer. His, to you unnamed, opponent had just pushed his blade flush against Harrington’s throat, locking him into an uncomfortable tight spot. With a tap on the arm, heavier than Robin had done to you, he tapped out of the game. Half the men cheered while the rest groaned and cursed out their wager.

As the winner of the match was picking out his next match, the audience was slowly losing interest, and one of them must have found you sitting on the sidelines. Curious glances were shot your way as they all slowly caught sight of you, not saying much. Just as they had gotten used to the new addition to the ship, you appeared in clothes that were unmistakably the captain’s. Feeling all their eyes on you, as if your seat on the stairs was a pedestal, you moved away and tried to make your way down to your designated space on board below decks.

However, your path was obstructed by one person specifically as he dried his face off with a piece of cloth.

‘Excuse me,’ you dared to say, hoping they would move out of the way. Something about having had an entire conversation with Robin made you feel a bit more comfortable speaking to the rest of them. After all, they—you—were all just people.

‘I wouldn’t run away if I was you.’ Harrington said. ‘Or you’ll never stop.’

‘You think they’ll let me stop?’ If you stayed, letting them near you, look at you like that, wouldn’t that be surrendering to their power.

‘I let you,’ he said, throwing the cloth over his shoulder.

‘I’d say you made me, rather than let.’ You crossed your arms. He had, after all, stood in your way and objected to letting you pass.

‘You could always,’ he turned a quarter of a circle, pointing to his side, ‘move. Unless I am that terrifying.’

‘It may come as a surprise but I have very little reason to be afraid of you at this moment.’ It was a half-truth, as his skills in the fight have shown you little to worry for, but there was little you knew about him or what he was capable of.

Harrington nodded. ‘I take it you watched me from up there.’

‘I watched the fight, yes.’ You could not admit that you had not paid as much attention to whom he was fighting as you did to Harrington himself. ‘It was… entertaining.’

‘I’m glad my suffering amuses you. Yes, that makes this all worth it.’ He pointed up to his bruised eye.

‘You cannot blame me for your misfortune.’

‘Well, you are to blame for my inattentiveness.’

His words left you too dumbstricken to respond, and unfortunately, the commotion around you diverted the entire conversation. Another duel had begun, and men were already cheering for their victors as swords clinked together.

Harrington, being nothing but a simple man, ran over to his designated spot in the crows to cheer on his successor. However, it was all a bit too loud, and instead, you noticed what else was happening on the deck. From where you had sat before, there had not been a clear view of it, but now you were only a few feet away from another small group of the crew.

They sat around a small table. It wasn’t clear what they were doing, but someone would shout out every few minutes and slap their hand on the surface while the rest groaned in frustration.

That is where you found the captain. Huddled between two other men, sitting on a low-built crate, occupying more space than there was with his legs, arm on one thigh as he leaned forward, laughing at whatever was happening at the table. It was a scene like no other. The casualness and pleasantry of it all felt foreign.

You had been used to the men on the Red Tail and their routines, but the ship always came first and, with it, their work and duty. There was never any time for… games. And you would never have caught the captain participating in any of it. Not even at home. This wasn’t something men did. Children, maybe, but no soldier or respected merchant. Only drunks and frauds. But as you looked at it, you had no idea why it was deemed so peculiar to find pleasure in these silly activities.

You were still trying to figure out, from a safe distance, what it was that they were playing when you caught Munson’s gaze. Or more so, you met it, as his eyes had already been on you. Much like everyone else’s had been previously, and yet there was an intensity there that no one else could remake.

‘There you are!’ He shouted out once you saw him, making everyone around him stop and look your way. A dozen pairs of eyes were directed at you now as you stood frozen in place. ‘Took you long enough to join as, darling.’ Some men from across the ship, around the duel circle, stopped to look at what the captain was doing too.

‘If I had known I was invited, I wouldn’t have come.’ You quipped back and felt a gust of pride at the sound of a few chuckles from the men standing nearest you, who were quickly stopped by the stern look of their captain.

‘Now, now, don’t be like that.’ He got up from his seat, raising his voice and gaining the attention of all now. It was like a siren’s call, making everyone stop in their tracks to listen. ‘My thanks are in order for, gentlemen, our princess has led us back on course. Worked all night, in fact, to find the correct coordinates and directions—which is more then I have seen of some of you in the past days.’ With this, he raised a cup in your honour, and while no one else had anything to raise, they all cheered. You stood there, speechless and confused, unsure of what was happening. Why was the captain suddenly so openly appreciative? So… nice?

You ignored the feeling to reciprocate the thankfulness and instead opted for the unfiltered thoughts going through you. ‘You do know “princess” is not my title, right?’

‘And I was never ranked captain… yet here we are, princess. So let us enjoy this fantasy we live in!’ He encouraged another cheer from his crowd. Then, once the rest settled down, he spoke directly to you from across the ship. ‘Come, why don’t you join us, darling. We were about to start another round.’

‘I don’t think there are any seats left.’ The space around the table seemed rather crowded, with each seat taken and many more men standing around. You had no business or interest in getting involved in that, but the captain, as always, persisted.

‘Wheeler was just leaving.’ He pointed to the man sitting across from him.

‘No?’ The man said slowly.

‘Well, you were loosing anyway,’ Munson shooed him away, creating an empty spot for you.

‘I don’t know the rules.’ You persevered in your own opinion.

‘You’ll learn soon enough, come.’

You were about to object, but what else could you expect than the captain calling over another of his crew, this one at least a head taller than you and probably triple your size overall. The giant walked straight, making everyone else move, until he reached you. Then, with a grin, he showed you the path in a straight line towards the table.

Unimpressed, you just said, ‘Thank you.’ and made your way over.

‘Glad you decided to join us.’ Munson said as you looked at the table. On it were six cups; only one turned the right side up. ‘Please, do take a seat.’ You felt a large hand on your shoulders, pushing you down on the crate.

‘Rules are simple,’ the captain began explaining; he picked up the cup before him, ‘5 dice. You roll them for yourself and place a bet, indicating the number of dice you think should be on the table. Speak the truth or bluff, it doesn’t matter, but if you’re caught on a lie… well,’ he shrugged, with it saying enough. The rules sounded simple enough, but one piece of vital information was missing.

‘What are the stakes?’ This was a betting game, so there must be something they were all betting on. You took the cup in front of you and pulled it closer. The dice rattled underneath.

‘We are but humble sailors,’ Munson said, already shaking his set of dice under his cup with a swift wrist move, ‘it’s mostly ship duties and chores. Sometimes meal rations if you’re brave. Anything that speaks to you, darling?’ Oh, there was plenty, but you had to play it smart.

‘If I win,’ you began shaking your dice as well, hovering over your words for a moment to think, ‘I get your cabin… until the end of the journey’ ‘I’ll happily share my bed with you, princess,’ Munson snickered.

‘I wasn’t finished.’ You smiled back. ‘I get your cabin. You get mine.’ Honestly, you did not have a preference for either sleeping option. The bed in Munson’s quarters was stiff, so you might as well have slept on the floor. It was more about what it meant to kick the captain out of his own cabin. You enjoyed the idea and the prospect of encouraging the captain to bring you home faster so he could return to his quarters.

Something flinched in the captain’s muscles as he tried to remain unbothered by your words. The dice kept rolling underneath the cups. The crowd backed off, quickly understanding that this was a game only two of you could play.

‘You sure about that?’ he tried to play it off smoothly. You simply nodded.

‘Name your price, captain.’

‘How about… If I win…’ a small smile grew on his lips, ´we just play another round?’

‘What?’ That couldn’t be it? ‘And if you win again? What happens then?’ Would you be playing this game until the end of time?

‘Got such low chances for yourself?’ He leaned forward a bit while you pushed away from the table.

‘I would just like to know the game before I play.’

‘I think you’ll learn best if we just play, so, shall we?’ He shook his cup with one last flick of the wrist before putting it to a halt, his ringed fingers clutching to the top of it, eyes locked on you as you did the same. Lightly, you tilted the cup to show the dice. They were wooden, carved out with a knife, most likely by someone on this ship. The sides were uneven, so who knows how even the odds were for the game, but to you, they seemed alright. The eyes were dug out of the panels like small holes.

One large eyes, two pairs of threes, a four and five.

Putting the cup back down, you looked up at the captain, his face untelling of any emotion.

‘Ladies go first,’ he announced with a hand gesture. It was up to you to start the betting. With the numbers twirling around in your mind, you thought of what would be the best move to make. To predict his dice was impossible and would only drive you crazy, but perhaps you could predict his next move by what you presented.

‘Four fours.’ You did your best to speak with a flat tone, to not show any emotions. Keep your breathing steady and keep your hands still. To not show any signs of nerves. The captain nodded and took another glance at his dice. There were maybe two before his rebuttal.

‘Five fours.’ There was nothing you could read off of him. The tension across the table only intensified, growing thicker with every moment of silence that passed by.

‘Three fives,’ you replied. The captain raised a suspicious brow.

‘Three sixes.’

‘Four sixes.´ You spoke slowly but confidently. Or with what you hoped could be seen as confidence. It was a lost battle, really. With you having none, there was no chance the captain held four sixes under his cup. He must know it, too, in your case. You knew it just is how the corner of his mouth raised in amusement.

‘Four sixes?' he asked, and you simply nodded again, but he wanted more from you. ‘Speak up, princess.’

‘Yes.’ You spoke sternly, remaining as still as possible. The captain shook his head once, grimacing.

‘See, darling, I don’t believe in beginner’s luck.’

‘Well, captain, I couldn’t tell it’s your first time playing. But don’t worry, you’re doing really well.’ You gave him a sweet sort of smile. So sweet that it could make you sick to your stomach. A few men around you pushed down their laugh, ignoring their captain’s deadly glares. He refocused his attention your way.

‘Show up, princess, because I doubt luck is this much in your favour.’ He tilted his chin, nudging you from across the table to reveal your dice, which you did with a sigh because when is it ever. Since you had stepped foot on this ship, luck seemed to have been missing from your life in its entirety. And yet, with this being a known fact, you were confused to see Munson’s reaction at the reveal of what you had rolled. It was not quite pride nor disappointment. His shoulders slacked down, and something pulled at the muscles in his face. He needed a second to compose his reaction to his winning.

‘Congratulations,’ you muttered without looking any longer at him. Ready to play the next promised round, you grabbed the cup to roll your dice again but were surprised to see Munson get off his seat. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Time for round two, darling.’ He smirked, walking past his crewmates to the centre of the deck. He had moved so far back that you had to turn in your seat. The confusion blocked your speaking ability, but fortunately, the captain was ready to explain. ‘I never said what game that would be, now did I?’ He stood there, surrounded by his men. His stance was wide, and his forearm hung lazily over the helm of his sword, which hung by his side. He let his fingers dance daintily across the silver while waiting for your response, the rings adorning them glistening in the sun.

‘What–’ you took a deep breath as you felt it getting stuck in your throat, ‘what game will this be?’

‘I have been rather looking forward to a little duel, in all fairness. I think we all have.’ He pointed around to everyone in the audience around you. You looked at them. Their smiles were big, and their posture relaxed but eager. They were expecting a show, and, in all fairness, you wanted one too. It’s the least of what you deserved after days of this hell.

Your shirt, still rather ample on your frame, slid down your shoulder as you got up, but you pulled it up with a swift move. Munson, and the rest, watched as you walked up.

‘Any new rules for this round?’ You asked loudly enough for everyone to hear, but the captain had other plans. He closed the gap between the two of you to answer, whispering the words right against your ear.

‘First one to be on both knees loses. How about that, princess?’ He pulled away again to ask you the question, but only a step. You blinked, took one more deep breath and nodded.

‘Oh, this will be fun,’ he smiled, and of course, he had. You could only imagine how much joy it would bring him to humiliate you in front of all these men. Especially since you had already, in front of everyone, admitted that you had not been taught to fight. How easy will it be to win, then?

He called out: ‘Someone give the lady a sword!’ It was aimed at no one, precisely who had handed you your weapon. You barely had the time to look around to see who had given you their sword, as it was thrust upon you with quite a lot of force, pushing you a step back. You tried to get a good grip on it, but no matter how you held it, the sword felt awkward in your hand.

‘You expect me to fight with this?’ You looked at your sword, suppressing any visual reaction to its form. The blade looked tethered and most visibly abused in the previous battle.

‘Not alluring enough for the lady?’ the captain said, pulling his sword out of its scabbard.

‘No, it is not that,’ you kept inspecting your sword apprehensively, ‘though I am sure you have more handsome weapons in your property. I just hoped for a more balanced blade.’ While already at a large disadvantage, with a sword like this, you had absolutely no chance at winning. You tried to hold it up on your hand, balancing the blade against the grip, with the former immediately falling to the ground no matter how you attempted to hold it. You gave the captain an apologetic smile as the sword clanged across the floorboards. He, in response, avoided your gaze by looking at his men for a substitute.

‘Harrington!’ he called out. Harrington stepped out from the ring of spectators, a bit stunned by the sudden call. Munson cocked his head your way, so the crewmember approached you and handed you the sword you had watched him fight with earlier. Closer up, you were taken aback by the harsh scar across his throat, like a deep indent from what must have been a rope tightened around it once upon a time. Another bruise, you noticed, was also already forming around his temple. There was his earlier opponent who had hit him.

‘Thank you,’ you said softly as he handed you his weapon. Just from your initial grip, you could tell it was much better. Harrington nodded and moved away quickly from your and his captain’s fireline.

While you knew enough about the objects to know what quality was good enough to use, the sword still felt foreign and awkward in your hand. You did not know how to stand while holding it, and seeing Munson opposite you, with his full confidence aglow, made you feel even smaller. But despite it all, one thing was for sure. Enough time had gone by, and enough had come between you for you to know that he could no longer treat you the same as he had the day you were broad on board. He could not do whatever he pleased with you. You wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t. So, while he looked you up and down with his casual smirk, you made a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up.

‘What do you say, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘I’ll go easy on you.’ With a weak attempt to release some tension from your shoulders, you rolled your head from side to side before copying the captain and letting the sword smoothly move around with the slightest wrist movements. It cut the air with audible slashes, leaving the captain and everyone else mute.

‘It’s appreciated, captain,’ you didn’t forget to respond to his generosity.

The captain simply nodded. No formal duelling rules were aboard the Hellfire since no one had time for the silly rituals. He simply stepped into position, and so you followed behind. He was, naturally, also the first to attack.

You were just in time to block it. The blades clinked at the point of impact, and there was a moment of confusion on Munson’s face. Hesitation. It was brief and all-telling in his eyes and brow, and lucky for you, it didn’t go unnoticed. It was a blink of an action as he tried to process what you had just done. The instinct at which you performed. Did he see your smile?

But the moment was soon as he proceeded with his next swing. And the next. Next. one after the other, locking you in with his movement. From each new angle, never passing on the theatrics of it all with turns and bends at which you should not have been able to keep up—but you did. You counteracted every attack, perhaps not flawlessly, straining to keep up with the speed and agility at which the captain moved, but it was more than anyone had expected you to be capable of.

And finally, the opportunity presented itself. A brisk moment of stillness gave you a chance to swing your sword. Of course, he blocked it, steady on his feet, but Munson took a small step back as you kept coming forth. The metal practically echoed over the ship. Cheers from the audience subsided as everyone got lost in the duel. There seemed to be no end; you only moved faster, harsher, harder.

As you kept moving, the crows had to move along with you, making space for the extended movements of the blades. If it had not been for the well-times duck, there would have been a head short on deck. The captain kept moving back from you until there was a thud. He had nowhere else to go as you backed him up against a barrel. There was that brief flash of panic on his face again as he came across a situation he had never expected to land in, but it washed away just as quickly. There was no time for him to react to the situation, for your sword was coming closer and closer to him again, and this time he had nowhere to go. With a final move, you pressed the blade against his throat. You were both breathing heavily. Sweat poured down on both of you underneath the scorching sun. The tip of your sword remained under his Adam’s apple, which moved up and down as Munson heaved in the air. And yet, even with his neck tightly stretched as he was forced to look up because of the sword digging into his skin, he had a bemused smile upon his face.

‘You said no one taught you how to fight?’ It was more of a question than a statement, as if he was confirming his memory.

‘Which is true,’ you pulled away, happy to see you had left your mark as a small cut. ‘No civil man would teach their daughter how to draw a sword, or let a lady compromise her polite statue with violence, or put her in any compromising and potentially dangerous situation, for that matter.

‘But they will also not let an opportunity to boast go by.’ You watched him swipe his hand at the blood pooling from the cut you had made, and you could not ignore the pride you felt with it. ‘So, I observed as they made me watch them train.’

‘That much is obvious,’ he wiped his now bloody fingers on his trousers, but the blood came pouring, slowly, down his neck. A thin red line marking your moment of victory. You couldn’t help but smile. And yet, he spoke with the most confidence, leaning against the barrel that had locked him in. ‘but we’re not done yet, princess.’ And then he attacked with a strike so flush and quick you had almost missed it. It cut the air by your side in half, and you could feel the repercussions hit you in your cheek.

Of course, the game was not over just yet. The winner was meant to be the last one standing, literally. You might have locked him in, but he would not give up until he was down on his knees.

Munson attacked once more, taking advantage of the incoordination that came with his first blow. His target had become low, with a focus on your legs. He swiped at your feet with such an intensity that you knew if he hit you, it would leave its own mark and one much worse than the cut you had made. The only thing you could do to avoid his force was to backtrack, jumping from one leg to another. You moved around the ship like a dancing monkey in the circle of everyone’s attention. Your attempts to attack had become poorer as the captain’s smile grew wider.

He took one long swipe down at your ankles, to which you could only respond by jumping as high as possible. The new clothes you had taken the night before certainly aided you in the acrobatics necessary when dealing with a duelling partner such as Munson, but you still wore your own shoes. The heels buckled as you landed on the ground, throwing you off balance. You felt yourself falling, but the final drop never came.

Your side hit someone’s sturdy frame. When you looked up, your eyes met a pair of brown ones. Brown, surrounded by a sea of dark purple bruises. Harrington held you up with one arm.

‘Your footing is all wrong,’ he spoke softly, but not enough to keep it a secret between the two of you as he pulled you up to your feet.

‘Funny, as I was just copying you,’ you laughed.

The captain called out to you impatiently. ‘C’mon, princess, the fun isn’t over yet.’ But perhaps it was, as he went in for a poorly calculated strike, and you screamed out, silencing everyone to their core, bending in two as a searing pain met your side. Still holding you, Harrington kept you up as much as he could. A task that came harder to be when you went limp. He stumbled back, almost falling over himself.

When you looked down, you saw your shirt, brand new in a sense, now had a large gash. The bottom half of it hanging on by loose threads. What once was pale ivory was now coloured crimson. You looked up at your attacker, who stood only a few feet away, his weapon hanging loosely in his grip. Higher, you saw his eyes, big in fear. An indescribable expression was painted across his face, but you hoped that he could read yours.

Trying to ignore the pain that was now overwhelming your whole body, you pushed yourself away from Harrington and passed the captain. His hand reached out to you, but you froze before he could anchor himself. Before getting yourself into more trouble, as a million thoughts raced through your mind, you dropped the sword to the ground. It fell onto the floorboards with a deafening clatter, and like that, you walked on quickly to the trapdoor, ignoring the captain’s calling of your name and the feeling it brought upon you to hear it for the first time in so long. There were more important, more painful things on your mind now.

Everyone moved out of your way, but their eyes stayed on you until you passed them. Robin had just reached the bottom of the stairs down from the helm, but she stood there just as everyone else, unsure what to do. She glanced at what was happening behind you, as you could hear people talking and moving but could not bother to turn around. You just wanted to get away from it all. The last thing you heard before heading below deck was someone angrily calling out the captain’s name, but it all felt like a blur around you.

Only once you were in your cell did you dare look at the damage he had caused. With a deep breath, you pulled the shirt’s material up to reveal a long narrow cut on your ribs. The only thing that made you feel alright was the fact that it did not look deep. As far as sword wounds go, it was a graze, but the blood continued streaming. And so did your tears. But you let that pain, and fear, boil down to anger and strength to rip the last few inches of the loose hanging pieces of shirt and wrap them around your middle as tightly as possible to stop the bleeding.

This is what happens when you let your guard down when you do not run away and instead stay and let yourself be hurt by these monsters. You did not what to think that Robin and Harrington had been a play, some kind of ruse of the captain’s invention to give you that fake sense of security, to slip you into dropping your apprehensions and lead you to… where you were now, bleeding out on the heap of hay, back in your cage.

With your heart beating into your ears, you didn’t realise that someone had followed you down to the lower deck, or hear the footsteps coming down to see you, nor the chuckle of the chains and buckles that came with the steps.

‘For what it’s worth,’ he said once he had already stepped into your holding cell, ‘I am truly sorry.’

You had no idea what it was lying beside you, but you grabbed it and, without saying a word but with as much power as you could muster, you threw it in the general direction of his face. With a small lean, he managed to dodge it and the item fell through the railings of the cell to shatter on the ground. You stared at him darkly, hoping the message was clear. He had never seemed to be able to do it, but maybe this one time, he could let you be alone…

Of course, it could not be that simple. He would not start listening to you now. Instead, the captain bent down to his knees, meeting your line of sight. In his hand, he held one of the bottles from his drawer.

‘Please, may I?’ he showed you the spirit bottle, and you got the idea of what he meant with it. It still took you a moment to formulate your response as you took it all in. ‘No, you may not.’ With a snap of your words, you removed the bottle from his grip and pulled the cork out with your teeth. You kept it in your mouth as you poured the alcohol over your fresh wound. The groan that left you as the alcohol burned away at the wound was only slightly muffled.

‘It was never my intention to hurt you.’ He said in that same, defeated tone.

‘And yet,’ you had spit out the cork, this time hitting him in the chest, ‘that seems to be what happens any time you come near me.’

‘There is no excuse for me, I know whatever I will say will mean nothing to you.’ He watched you scoff at his response. ‘See?’

‘What are you doing here?’ You sighed, already tired of his presence. To think that maybe not an hour had gone by since you had woken up, moderately at peace, in his cabin and now you were lying before him, hands covered in blood and spirit, and your mind dizzying with pain and rage.

‘How– how bad is it?’ There was a shake in his words, and you could not understand whatever for. Each move you made sent shocks down into your ribs, but as you did not feel like saying much more to him, you tilted your arm up to show the severity of the cut. The alcohol had washed off most of the excess blood and left behind the thing and precise cut over your side. Munson looked at it and another muscle in his face flinched at the sight of what he has caused. ‘It does not seem to be perilous.’

‘Yes, considering I am not dead I had figured as much.’ As you still had the bottle in your hand, you lifted it up to your lips and took a large sip. The burn at your throat was comparable to the feeling of the liquid touching your wound, but it was much more appreciated. After one more sip, you looked back at Munson. ‘Anything else, captain?’

‘No, I— I do not know what came over me, and I will not forgive myself for what I have done.’ He was stumbling over his words, but those he managed to produce left you in a whirl. How genuine it all was, you could not tell, but the deep regret he seemed to have reflected in his being. But you had learned your lesson to fall for such weaknesses.

‘Yes, it must be horrible seeing your investment get compromised.’ You took another swig of the drink. The captain opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it. He stood up already turned to leave when a final thought came to you.

‘From what I remember of the rules of the game,’ your words paralysed him mid-step as you called out, ‘I never fell to my knees.’ He, however, had.

The captain turned enough for you to see his profile and how the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. ‘Fine, you win.’ Then he continued walking up to the ladder.

You smiled to yourself as he left.

You won.

Chapter 6

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 11 months

Text

chapter xvi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,000+

masterlist

Eris marched to Y/N. His eyes raced across her, noting all the injuries she suffered. Her heartbeat was weak, barely audible to his fae ears.

Azriel watched him with closely, prepared to guard and protect Y/N’s helpless body from Eris’ new and unpredictable power.

He remembered when Rhysand had gained his High Lord capacity. The new strength was both intoxicating and terrifying. It took Rhys time to get a hold on it, to control it.

Furthermore, Azriel didn’t trust Eris like he had trusted Rhysand.

“Give her to me,” Eris growled, only looking at Y/N’s face and not even bothering to acknowledge the shadowsinger.

“I am not so sure I should,” Azriel countered coolly, his hold over Y/N tightening.

Eris finally looked into his hazel eyes, glaring into them. “I would never hurt her, Shadowsinger. I swore allegiance to your High Lord to keep her safe. She needs a healer – and quick."

And without waiting for a response, Eris scooped Y/N into his arms, fully intending to fight Azriel if he tried to stop him.

Now that his mate was in his grasp, Eris whipped around to find his mother. But she was already standing a few feet behind him when he sought her out.

“Go," Leonora urged him. "Take her to the healer. Lucien and I will take care of things here.”

She looked around them at what was left of Beron’s loyalists. They were either dead or had surrendered. Nesta, Cassian, Jurian, and Vassa guarded them with weapons at the ready.

Eris nodded gratefully and rushed Y/N to the royal healer.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Even before Y/N fully came to, she knew that she wasn’t in Night Court.

For one, there was the smell: cedar wood, amber, rain, and very subtle hints of both pumpkin and apple. It surrounded her. Then there was the chill, it was different than the Night Court. Someone had clearly left a window or two open. And the cold was refreshing, like a relief after too long and too hot of a summer in the mortal lands. It felt like a chill that could cure the human body and soul.

Y/N’s eyes finally found the strength to flutter open.

She looked around to find she was indeed still in Autumn Court.

And she was laying in a canopy bed grander even than the one she had been given in the Night Court. The detailing on the woodwork was impossible to overlook.

It was lovely and cozy, not at all what she would’ve imagined the dreaded Forest House of Autumn Court would look like. She had expected everything to be red – red like blood – unsettling and harsh. But there was soft browns everywhere, and an overall rustic warmth to the place.

It wasn’t until Y/N looked on the other side of the room that she started to believe she wasn’t just sleeping in a random guest room of a grand estate.

There was a coffee table with a pile of books and an old cup of tea, half sipped. As well as some papers written on, with a discarded quill sitting on top of them all. The candle and roaring fire beyond made it even cozier.

Y/N glanced down to see that her injuries had been tended to and someone had changed her out of the soaking wet underdress that had exposed her to the entire Autumn Court. Beron had made sure to humiliate her, she was honestly surprised he hadn’t stripped her completely naked to make his point.

Now she wore a nightgown with decorative lace and silk in the Autumn Court's colors. It wasn’t very modest – but yet again Night Court seemed the least concerned with modesty compared to the other Prythian Courts – besides perhaps Summer.

Y/N slowly sat up in bed, making sure to be careful of an lingering injuries. But she felt refreshed and healthy.

Beron must be dead. Surely.

If she were alive and put in such a lovely bedroom, Eris must have won the battle.

Come to think of it, Y/N was struggling with remembering the details of the fight. There was pain and fire and blood. But she couldn’t seem to find the last thing that happened to her before she fell into a cloud of darkness.

Y/N found a thick shawl hanging over a chair next to the bed. Almost as if someone knew she would want to cover herself before going anywhere.

She wrapped it around herself and searched the room for something she could use as a weapon.

Right about now Y/N really missed the resourcefulness of having a sentient home like the House of Wind, who could just drop anything she politely asked for.

Y/N smiled with relief when she found a dagger similar to the one Eris had gifted her. It had been slightly hidden in a drawer of one of the nightstands.

She didn’t bother keeping it sheathed, letting the deadly blade gleam.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage before throwing the door open to see what would be waiting for her on the other side.

“Plan on stabbing me, do you?”

“Lucien?” Y/N gasped.

The redheaded male was sitting on the ground across from her bedroom, legs crossed, calmly reading a book. He hadn’t even looked up from it when she’d emerged.

“I was wondering when you would finally sneak out of that bedroom,” Lucien sighed as he finally looked up at her.

Y/N looked at him wearily.

The last few days had been harrowing and she wasn’t sure where she stood with others of these fae. They weren’t her friends any longer. But she wasn’t sure if they were quite her enemies either.

Lucien stood. “Everyone figured you would be the most comfortable with me being the one guarding your bedroom.”

“Everyone?” Y/N asked with a scowl.

He smiled. “Well…Eris.”

“So…So Beron is…d-dead?”

Lucien’s smile dropped as he heard the fear in her voice. He gave a slow nod. “I am sorry…for what he did to you, Y/N.”

But she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Lucien cleared his throat. “If you are feeling well enough, I thought perhaps I could show you around the Forest House.”

Y/N just gave me a short nod.

Lucien looked relieved at her agreement. “I have a thing for babysitting mortal females that unexpectedly show up in fae courts.”

She could only assume he was referring to Feyre when she was in the Spring Court. But she didn’t bother asking for him to clarify.

“I wish to keep the dagger,” she added darkly, daring him to challenge her on it.

But Lucien raised a brow. “I never said anything about taking it from you. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind watching you stab a few of the courtiers still alive.”

And then he started walking, not looking back or waiting to see if she would follow.

Y/N quickly caught up with him, the dagger tightly gripped in her right hand.

——

“Only a small portion of the house is above ground – less than half. The rest is built into the stone beneath. Most of the house is hidden amongst the trees and rocks that rest above ground. The property stretches far – even the most trained eye cannot tell where the Forest House begins or ends.”

Y/N had been quietly listening to Lucien’s little tour for nearly three hours now. Now and then she would ask questions. But mostly she just let him talk.

Once again, the Forest House was nothing like she would have imagined. With Beron ruling this kingdom, she half-expected the place to be a dark and grimy dungeon. That evil man didn’t deserve to live in such a beautiful place.

How much had he tainted the Autumn Court with his wickedness?

“But Eris and mother prefer to remain above ground,” Lucien added, catching at how Y/N's body stiffened every time he mentioned Eris. “They need the sunshine.”

Lucien led her out onto a balcony that was surrounded by such a thick woods that it felt more like a tree house.

For a few minutes, the two of them just stared out at the view.

There were trees and hills as far as the eye could see. It looked like someplace one could easily hide or sneak through undetected. Yet Y/N had failed to do just that.

“How did they ever find me in this?” Y/N whispered, really only to herself.

But of course Lucien heard it.

“You would have never been able to pass through, Y/N. There are wards surrounding this court. Beron knew of everyone that ever entered his territory.”

Y/N’s head still bowed in shame.

Then she looked up at Lucien. “Is it hard for you…being back here?”

Lucien took a moment to look out at the trees and mountains before he answered, “I never thought I’d walk through these halls ever again.”

“They must hold terrible memories for you,” Y/N mumbled.

“Yes. But believe it or not, they also hold some good memories. Memories that I haven’t allowed myself to think of in quite some time. I guess that is how I coped with it: either remember everything or remember none of it. at all”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look and a shy nod. Without realizing what she was doing, her hand reached across the railing and squeezed his own.

Lucien glanced down their hands with a small and shy smile.

“Come,” he said, nodding behind them at the house. “You must be starving. And I’m sure my brother has been pacing all day, waiting to see you for himself.”

“Why wasn’t he the one waiting outside my bedroom?”

Lucien froze and turned to look at her head-on. “Because Eris is convinced that you hate him – or you are scared of him. I can’t tell. But my brother figured he would be last person you would want to see when you awoke.”

“I do not fear him,” Y/N whispered quietly, yet with confidence.

“And you should not,” Lucien surprised her by responding. “I’ve never seen my brother care for someone’s safety the way he cares about yours. Not even my mother.”

With that, he began walking again, leading her through the giant sprawl.

It took almost twenty minutes just to get to the dining hall. Of course it was grand. Clearly, it was meant for hosting the entire court and visiting guests of the court.

And Y/N expected those guests to also be in attendance for this dinner. Or at least the surviving Vanserra family.

But it was only Eris at the other end of the giant hall, pacing with his back to them.

As soon as he heard their arrival though, his back went straight and he whipped around to the face them.

First, there was relief in his eyes at seeing Y/N safe and healed. But that was quickly hidden.

Y/N caught his usual cool and passive expression. But then she blinked and he tried to give her somewhat of a warm look. It seemed to take great effort from Eris to do so.

Lucien was the one to break the silence. “Have any other errands for me, brother?”

Eris glared at him. “I am just relieved you didn’t bore her to death.”

“I am more interesting company than you,” Lucien shot back. Then he turned to Y/N, “I shall leave you two to it then.”

“You’re leaving?” Y/N blurted out accidentally.

Lucien had an almost mischievous smirk as he nodded and took his leave.

Y/N expected that Eris would wait for her to approach him. After all, he was a High Lord now. And she was...Well, she was nothing.

But it was Eris who quickly lessened the distance between them. However, he stopped a longer distance away from her than necessary. Perhaps he really did believe she was scared of him.

Eris cleared his throat. “I assume eating here would be less comfortable. I requested a more…secluded place for us to dine.”

Y/N just watched him.

His tone was softer, gentler. Like he was speaking to a wild doe who would scurry away with any sudden movement.

Her silence seem to unsettle him, though.

“Unless, that is,” he quickly added, “you wish to dine alone in your rooms.”

His gaze shot down to the dagger that was still gripped in her hand.

He couldn't help but smirk. “I see you’ve grown fond of my dagger.”

His dagger? The rooms. The bedroom that seemed to belong to someone.

“They’re your rooms?” She asked without thinking.

Eris seemed caught off guard that she would figure it out. “Yes. I have wards surrounding them, stronger than anything else in the house. I conjured them myself. And there is nowhere safer in the Forest House.”

“B-But where are you sleeping? I do not wish to inconvenience you.”

Eris actually let out a laugh. “I assure you, it is not inconvenience. There is plenty of space in this dreadful place.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say next. But it still felt odd, her staying in his intimate quarters.

But then she couldn’t ignore how at home she felt waking up, how comfortable. She had just been attacked and practically tortured. Yet, she wouldn’t know it with how safe she had felt this morning.

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I would not mind having dinner with you…if I am able to ask you some questions.”

Eris bowed his head. “I believe that is a fair exchange.”

Then he gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

He led her through a few more hallways until they were outside on a terrace.

Plates and silverware were already set up, with candles lighting the small table.

Y/N turned to look at him, but Eris seemed to be trying to ignore her stare.

Clearly he had made a bit of an effort here. And Y/N was taken aback by it.

Who was Eris Vanserra now that Beron was dead and he was High Lord?

He gestured toward table, signaling that she should sit first.

Y/N reached for the one chair, and her face got hot when Eris moved behind to push in her chair for her. Then he moved into the corner across from her.

As soon as they were settled, Eris waved his hand over the table and food magically appeared before them. It took up every inch of the table. Then one set of wine glasses filled with light wine, while the other set filled with water.

“Neat trick,” Y/N pointed out quietly.

“Our cooks made it,” Eris explained, almost sounding bored. “I simply summon it.”

But Y/N wasn’t wasting any time. “When did you know?” She uttered suddenly.

Eris froze mid sip of drinking his wine.

“When did you figure out I was your…mate?”

Eris finished his sip, turning it into a gulp from the question. “As soon as I saw you.”

“But that is not normal, is it?” Y/N challenged.

“I will answer your questions if you eat,” Eris demanded as he gestured to her full plate. “You have been healing and sleeping. You have not eaten in nearly two days.”

Y/N sighed and did as he requested.

“I suppose it not normal,” Eris agreed to her earlier statement. “But stranger things have happened.”

“Why take me to Night Court? It was rather obvious they are not your friends. Why did you trust them, of all people?”

“I do not have friends,” he corrected her harshly. “I took you to the Night Court because it was the safest place for you. There was no other option. Perhaps I was…desperate.”

Y/N’s gaze grew cold and challenging. “And you promised an Autumn army you did yet have to make them agree?”

Eris ground his teeth. “Is that what they told you?”

“No one told me.”

The wind then, Eris surmised.

“Is that why you ran?” He asked quietly.

“I ran because they are not my friends. They only gave me shelter and protected me because they wanted your loyalty – even if that loyalty was forced. And, I guess, because Rhysand’s life depended on it.”

Eris shifted in his chair, having mental battle with himself in his head. “No, Rhysand and his inner circle are not my friends. But their love for you was no act. Even now, they have not left your side.”

Y/N’s head snapped up in surprise. “They’re still here?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Irritating that lot is. They linger here to assure that you are alright. But I told them they were not allowed to speak with you until you had expressed that it was your wish to do so.”

Y/N blinked at Eris’ consideration.

He seemed to be reading her face quite carefully.

“For what it is worth,” Eris began, “they kept my secret by my demand. I did not want you to know about the bond because I thought it would make things left complicated and keep you safer.”

“If I am being fair,” Y/N began. “I am not sure how I would’ve reacted, knowing from the start. I wouldn’t have understood any of it, really. I would’ve been…Well, I don’t know what I would’ve been.”

Eris nodded, appreciating the honesty.

A moment of silence passed.

He leaned toward her. “Were you running here, to me when you fled…or were you simply trying to return to the Mortal Lands?”

Y/N caught the hope in his eyes. She knew immediately what answer he sought.

But she couldn’t give it to him. Not without lying.

Her head bowed. “I was going to the Mortal Lands. I didn’t even realize I had made it to Autumn until the leaves turned red. And then it was too late to turn around.”

Eris leaned back in his chair, controlling his expression. Yet, somehow Y/N still knew that he was disappointed.

Y/N waited a moment before she cleared her throat. “May I…May I make a request?”

“Please,” Eris urged her.

I will give you anything. Anything you wish, he had to stop himself from adding.

“I require a horse. Perhaps two.”

Eris watched her carefully, his face unreadable.

“I had properly paid for a pair in Night Court,” Y/N quickly added when he didn’t instantly respond. “I never stole them. But obviously I lost them when I was…when your father apprehended me.”

“Y/N…” It was the first time he had said her name since she'd crossed into these borders. And she didn’t know why it made her heart flutter. “It is not safe for you in the Mortal Lands. It is not safe for you to be on your own at all. There are some who do not approve of my usurping. And you were exposed. Those who wish to hurt me will come after you.”

Y/N’s breathing was getting heavy as she tried to control her temper. “I didn’t ask to be your mate. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

She shot up from her chair, the table shaking from the movements. “Where are they? Take me to them.”

Eris didn’t need her to clarify. He knew she spoke of the Night Court.

His eyes went dark when he slowly stood.

The movement must’ve been discomforting, for Y/N took a quick step backward from him and eyed him wearily.

“Fine,” Eris hissed before stomping away, not waiting for her to follow.

——

Some moments later, Eris had led her to a wing that Y/N was sure was on the opposite side of the Forest House than her own.

He gestured toward a door, apparently refusing to open it himself.

Y/N huffed and practically charged it.

Nesta and Cassian jumped to their feet. But Azriel looked unsurprised by Y/N’s aggressive entrance. He probably had shadows lingering in the hall that she had missed.

Cassian was the first to start opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him before he could. She knew he was about to apologize by his face alone – and she couldn’t deal with it at this moment.

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N demanded of Cassian, before he could speak.

His mouth dropped helplessly, and then he looked at Eris over her shoulder, as if he would silently give him answers.

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N repeated, even more angerily. “You at least owe me that after lying to me for months.”

Cassian looked to his mate for guidance, but her expression was passive.

“Y/N,” Eris spoke quietly, remaining behind her. “It is not safe.”

“He’s right,” Azriel agreed as he pushed off the wall. “All of Autumn Court knows you are Eris’ mate – thanks to Beron.”

Y/N only glared at the shadowsinger. But to Azriel it was better than her not acknowledging him at all.

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N nearly growled.

Cassian stepped forward. “If you wish to go back to Night Court, we shall take you there. Or...” His eyes flicked to Eris. “You can stay here." He sighed, "But you will be a walking target in the Mortal Lands, open for the taking.”

Y/N looked around at all of them as if they were insane.

Only Nesta seemed to be as confounded as her.

“So then…” Y/N whispered angrily. "I am being forced to pick between my prisons? Is that it?”

Eris stepped to her side. “You will never be a prisoner here, Y/N. You will be a guest.”

Y/N was quiet.

Nesta glared at the new High Lord. “And if he tries anything you do not consent to, I will cut off his prick myself and take you back to Night Court.”

Cassian failed to hide his smile.

Eris rolled his eyes.

But Y/N wasn’t amused.

Everyone watched her closely, waiting for her decision.

“I shall stay here,” she finally announced.

Without saying anything more, Y/N stormed out of the room.

Eris didn’t follow. Instead, he gave the three Night Courtiers a warning look. “My borders remain open to you. If you wish to visit Y/N – on her terms – you may do so whenever you see fit.”

Nesta gawked at him. Then glared at her mate and then Azriel. “We are just going to leave her here? Alone!? With him?!”

“She feels betrayed by all of you,” Eris countered gravely.

Nesta crossed her arms. “And whose fault is that?”

Eris took a moment to answer. “I did what I believed was best to protect her – and I will continue to do the same.”

Nesta slowly stepped toward the High Lord. “You know it wasn’t long ago that you were begging to marry me. I was unimpressed with you then, and I am even more unimpressed with you when it comes to my friend.”

Eris didn’t back down though, not even to Lady Death. “And now you have your precious Illyrian.” Only he could whisper a mere fact and make it sound like an insult.

Cassian shifted his weight nervously, fully preparing to have to step between his mate and her next prey.

But Eris calmly looked at him and Azriel. “Y/N will be safe here.”

Then Eris looked down at Nesta, knowing she needed to hear the next part more than anyone. “And though she is my mate, I make no assumptions that she will accept such a bond. Once Autumn Court has been calmed and she is no longer at risk, she can return to the Mortal Lands.”

“You think it will be that easy to let her?” Azriel challenged.

Eris sneered at the shadowsinger. “You let her go, so why don’t you tell me?”

It was now Nesta who was forced to hide her smile.

Eris straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Stay another night or leave. I do not care.”

Then he left to go hunt down his mate, who was surely lost in the Forest House.

––––––

please please please let me know what you think. write me a book report. it's what keeps me going. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Chapter XVII

#acotar #gust & flame #eris #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court #lady of autumn #azriel #cassian #forest house #lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #high lord of autumn court

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inkdrinkerworld · 10 months

Text

something like ms.honey 2

cw: fluff, a bit of angst, mention of haley, flashback scene, friends to lovers, hotch being emotionally constipated

“I can’t do it,” you mutter on the phone and your friend sighs.

“You most definitely can, don’t chicken out.”

You really can’t, you cannot go on this date. It’ll be a waste of time and a waste of money.

What you’d rather be doing is spending the day with your grumpy neighbour and his energetic eight year old who loves all things sweet just like you.

Except, you’ve not seen them in five days.

Aaron’s more than likely away on a case, and Jack’s with Jessica, but there’s not been a single text and you can feel dread setting it.

You want to reach out, but that feels like more than an admission of worry and you’re not sure if you want to delve into what else it could be.

It’s a little mind numbing the way the Hotchner’s have wormed their way into every routine you have and now that they’re not part of it, it feels like something is missing.

“I think I’m just gonna stay in and do class prep.” there’s a finality in your voice that makes your friend sigh.

“Alright, just,” she takes a breath, “crack a bottle of red.”

You hang up after that, rifling through your cabinets for your craft stuff.

You’re teaching the kids about shapes and slightly about fractions, but you wanted it to be fun- so it required a sacrifice to your Saturday night.

Construction paper in varying colours and Youtube tutorials were how you spent about three hours before your phone rang.

Sighing, you slide ‘answer’ without even looking at the screen.

“Hello?” there’s no answer on the line, just a crackle and a pop.

“Hello?” you pull the phone away from your ear and see ‘AH.’ Frowning, you say a little frustratedly, “Aaron?”

“It’s Jack,” there’s lots of whispering and you get nervous. “Daddy’s downstairs.”

“Are you okay, J?” you find yourself asking, standing and reaching for your keys.

“Daddy’s friends from work are here.” you take a peek out your kitchen window, but see no cars at their house.

“Where baby?” your heart is hammering in your chest.

“My old house, there was a problem.”

“Can you get your dad on the phone?” you ask, ready to get in your car and over to Jack and Aaron.

“I’m supposed to be sleeping,” he admits shyly and you laugh. “I miss you.” he says and you feel your heart swell.

“I miss you too Jack,” god you wish you could hug his little body. “Is everything okay?”

Jack sighs, “It was my mom’s birthday two days ago,” your heart breaks for Jack and Aaron.

Jack had told you about his mom’s funeral when he was over the last time Aaron had been away.

“Daddy was sad, and today Uncle Rossi came over because he made a mistake.”

“It’s all good now though?” you ask and Jack says a little, ‘yeah,’ but he sounds sad. “Do you want me to stay on the phone till you fall asleep?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Can we do a video?” he asks and you switch over immediately, finding Jack’s face smushed to his pillow.

“You look so cozy,” you tell him and he smiles, a little blush taking over his face. “What story do you want?” you have a couple of his favourites still at the house.

“Jungle book again, please.”

You read only a couple chapters of the book before Jack falls asleep, the phone falling to the bed so you’re staring at the ceiling but you don’t mind it.

You’re cleaning up your coffee table when you hear Jack’s door open.

“Y/n?” It’s the first sign of trouble when Aaron says your name like that.

You’re not sure what the trouble could be, but you know it’s unsettling and it makes your skin crawl just slightly.

You curse yourself internally at that thought.

Aaron doesn’t have to call you ‘sweetheart’ every time, friends usually go by first names too.

“Hey,” you say, and there’s a sort of awkward silence that fills the space. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for him to keep the phone, he sounded so sad and fell asleep.” Aaron just shakes his head.

“It’s fine Y/n, it’s been a tough week for him.” it grates on your nerves the way he’s determined to only call you your name, but you nod as Aaron speaks, packing your crafts into your sticker folder and sliding it into your tote bag.

There’s something weird with him.

“Jack said you’d been sad.” you mumble before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sorry.”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head. “He likes you,” he says and you smile bashfully. “But yeah, I was. I’m better now though, swear.”

You eye him skeptically, but nod anyway.

“Rossi says I’ve made a mistake.” Aaron says unexpectedly. Your eyebrows knit as you wait for him to continue, “Coming back to the house.”

Aaron doesn’t know why he’s saying all this, truly. It’s frightening the way he opens up to you without even thinking.

He wants to add, ‘and being away from you,’ but you cut him off before the words can slip from his lips.

“Do you think it is?” regardless of what his answer is, you’re planning on keeping your face neutral.

“I’m not sure, it’s done some good, but I think mostly it’s made Jack emotional.”

You can see the struggle plain on his face. He’s at war with himself, but you’re not sure why exactly.

“Do what feels right for the two of you.” you say softly and he nods.

Seeing him and hearing that he wants to possibly stay at the house reminds you that they’d never been permanent, no matter what you had thought.

It bubbles an anger that’s really embarrassment and it makes you feel gross, makes you feel wrong.

Wrong for letting them into your routines, wrong for getting so used to them being in your space, wrong for your friendship turning into a crush.

“I gotta go,” you say and Aaron nods. He can tell something’s wrong, but prying seems wrong.

Everything seems wrong now.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

You go another week without the Hotchners but this time they’re home. In their house right across the street.

Jack still waves at you from inside their gates, but he doesn’t come over and you hardly see Aaron.

There’s something odd and it’s eating away at you. You hate the limbo of not knowing what’s going on, but you knew it was bound to happen after that phone call.

You give Jack his ‘something sweet’ every week though, still giving him double the regular batch even if Aaron isn’t talking to you.

Your week has been mostly the same routine, wake up, go to school, teach the kids.

Except today.

Everything’s been turned on its head since the moment you woke up.

You’re late. And you’re never late, not even five minutes.

Your alarm didn’t go off, and now you’re about to be an hour late for school because you haven’t had breakfast or showered yet.

The only good thing is that you called in the moment you got up and let the school know you’d be late. Other than that? It’s been a shit show.

As you step out the door, you see Aaron hovering by your gate.

You’re only slightly disturbed by his presence, especially the beard he’s grown. “Is something wrong?” you ask as you lock your door.

“You’re still here.” he’s got an almost relieved tone to his voice.

“I’m late,” you explain softly and he nods, stepping back as you open your gate. “Are you sure nothings wrong?”

Aaron never grows a beard, and he never comes over in the morning even when you were talking.

Sure you being late is uncharacteristic, but it doesn’t warrant a visit from him- especially after all this time.

“You haven’t called me ‘Aaron’ in almost two weeks.” he grimaces after the words leave him like he wasn’t supposed to say anything.

“You haven’t spoken to me in almost two weeks.” you counter as you reach your car. “I’m not doing this right now, you have your reasons fine whatever. I have to get to work.”

You’ve never been this cursory with him ever, and it stings, but Aaron nods.

Your day doesn’t brighten much from there. The kids are all a bit restless and teaching fractions doesn’t go as smoothly as you’d have liked, but they’re understanding the differences a lot better now.

You don’t force it on them after lunch though.

Instead, you let them go over their writing and reading and help them make crafts till the last bell.

Aaron’s outside waiting for you and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Sure you missed him, but like this, he’s two steps away from making your bad day worse.

“Come pick up Jack with me? He hasn’t seen me for the day.” you want to ask why, but you don’t want to be reinvited into their lives like this.

“Aaron,” you want to tell him no. You want to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, to pretend you don’t exist because it was so easy for him over the last two weeks.

But there’s something about the way his shoulders drop and relax as you say his name that has you caving. Something about that Aaron Hotchner smile, that’s not even a smile that wins you over.

“Fine.”

He knows using Jack to force the two of you together is wrong, but after Rossi and Reid grilling him, he wants to make amends.

“You stopped speaking to her?” David is livid. He knows exactly why Aaron had stopped speaking to you but he hates that he’s allowed his worry to rule him again.

“Hotch, she was nice.” Spencer chimes and Aaron rolls his eyes and sucks at his teeth.

“None of you have met her!” he hisses and Spencer shrugs.

“Jack talks,” is all Reid says and David nods.

“Yeah, the kid’s practically in love with her. He even shared some of that chocolate babka she made for you, she’s got a good hand for it.” Rossi says and Aaron smiles despite it all.

Rossi wants to tease him, but the smile has something sad about it.

“That’s why it can’t go on Dave, she’s someone to lose now.”

David and Spencer sigh and lean forward at the round table.

“And you pushing her away is what? Keeping him from losing her? It’s premature even for you, Hotch.” Rossi’s words are weighted, but it’s Spencer that gets to him.

“Jack’s going to lose her twice, once as his friend and then again as his neighbour. When she realizes you’re done with whatever it is you had, she’s going to leave Jack alone to avoid you.”

There’s an implied, ‘and it’ll be your fault,’ that Spencer politely refuses to add verbally.

The words had been swimming around his head all week but he didn’t know how to approach you about it to apologise.

“Did you drive here?” you ask as you reach your car, looking up at Aaron to see him shake his head.

“No, um, Spencer dropped me off.” you nod though you have no clue who this ‘Spencer’ is.

“Get in,” you mutter, sliding into the front seat and starting the car.

The ride is mostly silent and uncomfortable.

It’s stifling that the two of you are this silent but clearly have something to say.

It’s causing a stress knot at the back of your neck now that you think about it.

“Can you just say whatever it is you want to? The tension is ridiculous.” you murmur, eyes darting between Aaron and the road.

He feels gross all over at the way you’ve dismissed him even while speaking to him- but Aaron knows he’s deserved this.

“I’m sorry.” he starts and you frown. “For being distant, and for not coming over. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” he says softly, almost like he’s ashamed of his actions.

“That’s not why I was upset,” you reply, pulling into the parking lot of Jack’s school. “You stopped being my friend. You put distance between us when you went back to your old house, and I didn’t know why. Then when you came home you couldn’t even look at me and say, ‘We can’t be friends anymore’ you just shut me out.”

There’s a long silence in the car as Aaron tries to pick his next few words and you feel like you probably should’ve never said anything to begin with.

“We’ll talk later,” he says as the children start rushing out.

You stay in the car while Aaron gets Jack and sigh. Your forehead is pressed against the steering wheel when the back door opens and a rowdy Jack pushes his face up to yours.

“Y/n!” he screams, and you giggle despite yourself.

“Inside voice Jack,” Aaron corrects softly and Jack nods, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“How was your day?” you ask as you pull out, content to give Jack all your attention if it means that you can avoid whatever is going on between you and his dad.

“Can I come over?” Jack asks as you pull into the familiar road. “Dad?” he prompts when neither of you answer.

Aaron only looks at you.

“Uh yeah babe, but me and your dad have to talk, that okay?” Jack nods, unbuckling his seatbelt as you get out.

“C’mon J,” you call, opening the door and letting him race in.

You set up the tv for him, ‘Little Einsteins’ playing as he sings along. You place a bottled water and a plate of cookies on the coffee table for him too, before turning to Aaron who’s leaning on your kitchen’s arch.

You stare at him from the other side of the archway, waiting for him to speak.

“I couldn’t,” he starts and you cross your arms. “I don’t do well with loss, it’s hard to let people in since Haley died- Jack’s mom.”

God you wish you weren’t so emotional. You can feel tears pricking your eyes just at the mention of Jack’s mom.

“I don’t like putting him in a position where he can lose people. He wasn’t supposed to befriend you, neither of us were,” you nod. “but we did and it started to feel too good being around you.”

You want to stop him, but Aaron bulldozes you and continues, “Things go wrong quickly when they start to feel good. There’s risks that come with being involved with any agent.”

“I don’t think someone would attack me because we were friends Aaron,” you try to joke but he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even do his little eyebrow quirk and it makes you nervous.

“Maybe not, but I didn’t want to take the chance. Anything could go wrong.”

“Anything could go wrong in friendships that don’t involve agents.” is your counter.

You push off the archway when your brain catches up, “Wait, did you say, ‘didn’t’?” you’re closing the distance between you.

He smiles a little then, only the tip of his smile going up but you see it.

“A couple friends told me I was being premature, in putting distance between us. They also reminded me I was more than capable of keeping people safe.”

You can’t help but smile, “And?”

Aaron’s not off the hook, that much he can tell.

He can also tell that you’re giving in.

“And, I wanted to stop being an ass and I really really missed coming over.”

You shake your head, “What if I didn’t want us to be friends again?”

Aaron pauses for a moment, it’s long and pregnant and it makes you nibble on your lip when you catch onto what he’s thinking, but then he gives you a proper smile this time, “Then I’d go ask Jack to convince you to give us another shot with you.”

“Oh that’s mean,” you mumble and Aaron nods, the toes of your shoes touching now.

“Alright, fine, since you’ve really pulled my leg, I’ll be your friend again Aaron Hotchner.” you say dramatically and he laughs.

“Good, because I really did miss you. More than Jack.” he whispers the last part and you scoff.

“Oh that’s not true, Jack called me.” you say and Aaron’s eyebrows knit together.

“After we came back?” he asks softly and you nod.

“Three times a week from the landline.” The boy in question comes running into the kitchen, an empty plate of cookies in his hand.

“Thanks Y/n,” you take the plate from him, and as soon as his hands are empty he hugs your legs. “Missed you.” he says and you ruffle his hair.

Aaron feels his heart break at the fact that his son had missed you so much, he called you on the house phone. Reid was right, he’d have made Jack lose you twice. He almost did.

“C’mon babe,” you lift Jack to your hip, “Let’s choose something to bake for tomorrow.”

Aaron watches as you go for your cookbook, sitting Jack on the countertop as you both flip through the desserts section.

You all fall into your regular routine after a couple weeks, Jack coming over on a Friday for his ‘something sweet’ and to give you all the details of his week.

Aaron never stays long these days, hard cases that’s mainly long hours but he pops in every night just before you go to bed.

Like tonight, Jack’s still with you, not awake but asleep in your lap, and Aaron knocks on your door.

“Shit,” you mumble, lifting Jack’s head and placing it on a cushion.

“Y/n,” he whines and you pout, kissing his head before jogging off to the door.

“You have to get your own keys,” you say to Aaron, finding him in just his suit shirt, tie and jacket gone. “He fell asleep.”

Aaron shakes his head as he steps in, noticing both you and Jack in your pyjamas as he flicks your locks.

“It’s not even eight thirty, what did you get up to?”

You don’t say a word, but gesture to the coffee table and then to the kitchen.

The coffee table is covered in paper dinosaurs, all in varying colours and species, and the kitchen has multiple tupperware bowls, some with food and others with sweets.

“You’re weak sweetheart,” he chuckles and you shrug.

“He’s nice, and we had fun. Jack pays in compliments and kisses, what’s better than that?” Aaron sits where you had been, raising Jack’s head so it lays in his lap, and pats his free side.

“You shouldn’t be working on crafts on the weekend,” Aaron whispers but you frown. “You should be relaxing.”

You suck at your teeth, “We did relax! We made dinner together and we baked brownies and then we made dinosaurs.”

He just nods, but Aaron wishes he had the time to actually let you relax.

He wishes that he could have a weekend off to take you and Jack someplace where you don’t have to entertain.

There’s a contemplative look on his face that makes his eyebrows scrunch together and his lips purse - you don’t like it even a little bit.

“You’re being weird Aaron.” you say as you reach and smooth the wrinkles in his eyebrows.

“I’ve never been weird,” you giggle softly but don’t say anything and it makes Aaron shake his head. “I’m thinking.”

You pull back from him, “Aaron, please, don’t hurt yourself.” he pushes at your shoulder when you laugh.

“Something serious?” you ask, standing and moving to the kitchen.

Aaron’s about to call out to you when he spots you walking back with a bowl of food and a fork.

“It could be,” he says and he takes the things from you. You flick through the shows, settling on something easy as he eats.

“Are you gonna tell me?” he shakes his head, crunching on a carrot.

“Nah, not yet.” you huff but say nothing, content to just watch your show till Aaron’s ready to leave.

Except, you fall asleep in his lap as well, and he can’t move. He doesn’t mind, not a bit but he does shift a little so he can lay down too with you and Jack on him.

“Fucking perfect.”

The next week is fast, the term is winding down for thanksgiving and then Christmas break.

The kids have been good at the fractions and the shapes, a real change from the last couple of weeks and it makes you feel a teacher’s pride that’s ridiculous.

“You guys are so smart!” you praise as you watch the class name each of the fractions with ease.

Now they’re all eagerly telling you their plans for Thanksgiving, and what their parents are going to be making while you’re in circle time.

“Miss Y/n?” Ben raises his hand as you walk around the room.

“Yeah?”

“What do you do for Thanksgiving?” the class all nod at his question and you smile.

“Uh, well my family and I never really celebrated it. We did the big lunch and dinner for Christmas.”

Another hand goes up and you point to the girl, Lyn, “Will you be alone then?”

They all know you’re not from Virginia.

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll spend it with my neighbours.” you haven’t really spoken of it with Aaron and Jack, but if you have to spend it alone it won’t be as bad as it used to be.

“I hope you do,” Lyn says and you smile.

“Thank you Lyn.”

On your drive home, you think about Thanksgiving and what you’ll do for it, but everything feels too much. It feels weird thinking about doing something when you usually do nothing.

“Y/n!” Jack’s waiting outside your door with Aaron, who has to hold his son’s hand so he doesn’t run over to the car.

“Jack,” you greet and he tugs on your fingers. “What’s wrong baby?”

Aaron comes down to take your keys from you.

“We’re going out,” Aaron says and you frown.

“Where?” you ask and Jack beams.

“Our favourite!” Jack giggles madly and you shake your head.

“Never been.” you say and Aaron smiles. He unlocks your door and watches you and Jack go in before getting in himself.

“That’s even better. We’ll wait for you. It’s not formal. Reservation is for 7.”

Aaron can tell you want to say something, but you don’t. You just make your way to your staircase.

“Y/n, can I have more cookies?” Jack asks and you nod to Aaron.

“If your dad says it’s okay before dinner.”

You don’t stick around to hear whether or not Aaron allows him.

You come back down and Aaron sees you first. Without his conscious consent his belly fills with butterflies and his nerves frazzle.

You’re in a long, blue and orange skirt and a white t-shirt.

Your hair’s been let down, ringlets of loose curls hanging down your back, your glasses replaced with another pair that matches better.

“I’m ready,” you say, watching Jack and Aaron share a cookie as you grab your purse.

“Leave it.” Aaron says softly, offering you a cookie in turn. “You look beautiful.” he compliments and you smile as you pluck the cookie from his hands.

“So pretty,” Jack says as he touches the colours on your skirt. “Like a princess or a fairy!”

“You’re both flirts,” is the only thing you can say, trying to tamper your embarrassment from their attention.

Dinner is easy, conversation mostly abstract.

“What about if you combined the two, a brownie and a cake,” Jack says as they bring dessert out. Aaron had the good sense to get everyone their own hot brownie with ice cream. “A crownie!” he names it excitedly and you giggle.

“We could try babe,” you say and Jack nods, leaning forward and licking the vanilla ice cream on his brownie.

“It’s hot so don’t touch the pan.” you say and he nods. He’s been beside you all evening, much to Aaron’s amusement yet he can’t help the way he notices Jack has been wanting you more and more.

It’s painfully obvious now how much his son had missed you, and for a moment he feels a sharp stab of dad guilt right to his gut.

“Aaron, your ice cream is gonna melt and then me and Jack are gonna have your entire plate.” you threaten, Aaron’s eyes widening as he notices the chocolate stains around his son’s mouth and the nearly gone brownie.

“Yeah dad, eat up or pay up.”

Your laugh is loud at the little Hotchner’s threat.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Aaron says, digging into his brownie before you and Jack team up against him. He still manages to save about half the brownie for the ride home.

The bill comes and you reach for it when Aaron shakes his head.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” It's cruel of him to say it so sweetly and reverently as he fishes his card out of his wallet.

It makes you stumble, and allows him the advantage of paying without another complaint.

Jack knocks out about twenty minutes into the drive back to your house, and from the quiet that surrounds the car you’re tired too.

“You can sleep y’know,” Aaron says as he glances over at you.

You shake your head, defiant, “And leave you up by yourself? Don’t think so.”

He keeps you talking for a little while, before glancing at you and finding your cheek tucked to your shoulder, and your eyes dropping closed.

“Sleep, sweetheart.” he says softly, hand reaching for your cheek.

“Don’t want you to be bored,” you slur and he chuckles.

“Won’t be, promise.” your eyes don’t stay open long after that, certainly not when Aaron keeps stroking your face.

The drive lasts another half hour, you and Jack out like lights.

When he pulls up to your house he grabs your keys from the cup holder.

Aaron’s meticulous as he opens the door and clears the couch so there’s space to place Jack.

The little boy doesn’t rouse, Aaron having perfected the art of transporting a sleeping toddler over the years.

He comes back for you, unbuckling your seatbelt and stroking your arm.

“We’re home sweetheart,” he whispers, watching you turn to where his voice is coming from. “Want me to carry you?” he’s gonna do it unless you say ‘no.’

“I can walk,” you’re groggy, but he moves to let you hop out of the SUV on your own.

Aaron stays behind you though, hand on your back as you walk inside. You stretch and yawn when you’re inside and Aaron smiles.

“Want some tea?” you ask and he shakes his head, he watches you make yours though.

“Thanks for dinner, Aaron.” you say as you hold your mug, taking a scalding sip that makes you hiss.

“Don’t do that,” he says and you frown. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks and you brighten.

Aaron never has the weekends off. Ever.

“You didn’t say you had the weekend off!” you all but scream and he laughs, reaching for your mug as you rush around to his side of the kitchen island.

“I have the day off,” he amends and you nod, sitting halfway in his lap till he tugs you up properly.

“And you want me to spend it with you and Jack?” he nods, handing over the tea when you’re comfortable.

You don’t think hard about his hand falling to your waist to keep you still as he answers you.

“Mhm, Jack wants to go to a book fair.” he elaborates and you nod. “Are you free?”

“So free! But I have to be back in time to go to the farmer’s market.”

Aaron nods, lodging his chin on your shoulder as you sip the tea. He can do with a day of just you and Jack and nothing else.

#slmhuniverse #aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x black!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x yn

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noah-shin · 10 months

Note

How would Rui feel when you instinctly try to protect him from a danger after being distanced from him so long. Does he think he won you over and how he acts afterwords? +

I will be glad if you talk about how all these months went between Rui and reader and how many months it took yn to accept and realize everything

Sure, I would love to. I actually focused more on what happened during that 1 year between yn and Rui. Not much on the protective side of yn as I feel she will not survive a fatal attack after saving Rui. I hope you will enjoy it. Requests are allowed

Here's the one shot

Wc: 799

It's been 1 year since you have been captivated by Rui. A lot of things have changed. In these months you have understood there's no way to ignore Rui when he's the only person you have close to you. You remained submissive remembering the last time you snapped at him and got your legs twisted in the wrong way. Moreover everything you need can be fulfilled by him and you need to just give him your love. He brings books and trinkets and other things from the village to decrease your boredom when he's not with you. He loves seeing you cook even though he doesn't eat any of that and likes you reading stories to him while he stares at your face. He is a simple demon who only finds joy in staring at you. You could just breathe and he will praise you for being the best sister. Rui will sometimes remind you of your dead family just to get a high out of you and hold you in his arm overprotectively when you're succumbed in your misery.

He stays the whole day cuddling with you and holding you since he can't go outside anyway. You used to shiver but still let him hold you in fear of getting hurt.

But nowadays it has become an everyday mutual thing. It's even more unsettling when he actually doesn't hold you when you should actually be happy with that. Your eyes lingers to see his figure when you wake up at night and find him eating a person in another room.

You often find yourself leaning your head against his shoulder resting while seeing the moon. You don't talk much considering saying anything about any other person will make him mad, besides you don't need to think about others anyway. You make flower crowns and matching clothes for him. You don't have much to do anyway. You both wear matching kimonos because it makes him feel more connected. There are days where you actually find yourself loving his warm hold around you and think whatever happened was for the good.

You were laying on Rui's chest on the rooftop of his house busking in the moonlight. Rui patted your head occasionally and said " with you oneesan I can remember my past life little by little. It's subtle but still there" you looked at him curiously " So what did you remember?"

" I looked very ill in my memories. It was like happiness was sucked out of my life. Everything looked colorless until you arrived.You bathed my whole world with colors" You exclaimed hearing his words" Really? You must have your present with your past "" It can happen. Besides you're the only one I think about these days anyway"

You hummed almost falling asleep when Rui sat up abruptly and you flinched " hey! What happened? "

He replied " Someone is here" before you can ask who it is, you can feel a dread overcoming your body and you hugged Rui tightly. Before you or Rui could even process anything, blood started dripping down your arm. You looked at your bloodied hand and let out a blood curdling scream in pain. Rui hugged your bloodied body in his arms as he saw a demon slayer standing meters away now cowering in fear seeing the look in Rui's eyes. In one motion Rui killed that slayer with his threads and looked at you " Nooo, oneesan stay with me. I can't live without you. " He cried out in anguish. As lights were fading from your eyes you caressed his face. Finding no way Rui accepted his fate

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

You were looking at the dead person under you from the tree branch. As you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned back." Owh Rui, our feast is ready. Shall we start? " You said as your feet dangled in the air. Your feet were so different, the way they were twisted when you were alive never changed. Your heels were at the front and fingers on the back. There was a big scar visible on your hand which spread through your body looking like an artwork. Your hair was completely different from that of Rui being red.

Rui nodded at your word holding you in his arms as he landed on the ground. You both dug your teeth on the flesh of those dead people. Rui hold your hand and said " Making you a demon was a good choice I guess"

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s7-evermore · 8 months

Text

Ch. 2 - The Economics of Rumors

This is The Boyfriend Contract series, Chapter 2. Inspired by The Love Hypothesis and The Business Proposal. Azul Ashengrotto x fem! Yuu (reader). You can view this on ao3.

Ch. 1 | Next chapter

In most cases, the economic rumor makes consumers dubious of the product's type, quality, and effects on health, so it can be quite an issue... but rather than an issue, he saw it as an opportunity. To me though, it's a nuisance.

It was foolish of her to believe that everything would be A-Okay after Riddle's overblot. Aside from the usual NRC mishaps (that she somehow got used to), she thought she would be able to live through her first year without any more major issues, maybe live long enough for her to get back home.

But then the Spelldrive incident happened, then the Octavinelle incident, then the Winter break incident, and then more incidents, and then the dreadful, gut-wrenching, absolutely breathtaking (not in a good way) kiss incident. Of all the goddamn incidents-- she did not expect any of them to involve a kiss.

(No. Vil's kiss on her cheek during the Styx incident does not count.)

She knew Azul well enough that he didn't like to involve himself with irrelevant matters unless it benefited him in some way. So even if she had some sort of obsessive guy chasing after her, she'd have to offer him something worthy enough for him to help her.

She hadn't received any message from him so far, and the Leech twins hadn't arrived at her doorstep yet, so... she assumed she was safe. For now.

Unless, of course, he actually did file a complaint for sexual harassment, in that case, the Headmage would have been the one at her door by now.

Yesterday's events had taken up more energy from her than she realized, so she contacted her boss and called in sick. Thank heavens he was kind, almost fatherly, and told her to rest until she felt better. She should have felt guilty for lying, but she was too exhausted to feel anything. She didn't really want to deal with any people right now.

However, as much as she enjoyed days off, Yuu became extra restless when she had nothing to do. Because doing nothing meant her mind was free to go in different directions, and that direction most often went downhill. There had to be something she could do, even if it was small or insignificant, anything to make her think of anything else other than what she didn't want to think about.

She had done as much as she could. She washed the dishes, did the laundry, cooked increasingly unsettling eggs (most of them went to Grim's stomach), washed the dishes again, cleaned the lounge, rearranged her bookshelf, created a new playlist for next week, watched some videos on Magicam, read a book on meditation-- She was slowly running out of things to do when she suddenly remembered the homework they had for History of Magic, it was a paper on any chosen topic among the ones they previously discussed during the past semester. Although the deadline was still in a week, Yuu figured it would be better to start on it early.

After making herself comfortable on her couch, Yuu opened her laptop (a very generous gift from Ortho, who noticed her lack of electronics, bless that sweet humanoid boy) and began to do some light research, but got side-tracked by the string of notifications that streamed from her phone.

With a sigh, she set her laptop on the nearby coffee table and grabbed her phone. A message from...Ace? And Deuce. Ace and Deuce. And Epel. And Jack. And...holy shit.

Was everyone out to get her or something? Why is she suddenly getting messages from Cater and Riddle? Even Sebek?! Of all people???

Before she could open any of the messages, several loud knocks pounded on her door. She knew well enough who it was that she didn't bother getting up to open it, they knew to knock first before entering after all.

The door to the lounge slammed open, startling the poor girl.

"Jesus Christ!" She clutched her phone to her chest, "Ace. You scared the shit out of me! Calm down will you?"

"Calm down?" Uh oh. She did not like that voice. Ace only ever used that voice a few times on other people, but never on her. She was usually the one using that voice on him. You know, to keep him in line.

Oh, how the turns have tabled.

"You want me to calm down?" His voice was like venom. He stalked over to her, almost stomping, as Deuce-- and... is that Epel, Jack, and Ortho?!

"Uh...what's going on?" She looked at their expressions. Ace looked displeased by something, Deuce looked uncomfortable, Jack and Epel both looked unsure, while Ortho simply looked curious. "Why is everyone here?"

"Yesterday."

She raised a brow, "Yesterday?"

"Yesterday!"

She rolled her eyes, "What about yesterday?"

"Yesterday! With Azul!"

She froze. Oh no. "What about him?"

"Don't play dumb with us, Yuu," Ace gave her one of his no-bullshit looks, "What's with you and Azul? Did you make a contract with him or something? Is he holding you hostage?"

"W-What?! No! What are you even getting at?" She didn't like where this was going.

PLEASE don't say what I think you're gonna say.

"Um, Yuu, yesterday..." Deuce started rather bashfully, "Cater and Trey saw you and Azul together, uh..."

"Kissing." Ace finished, "They saw you kissing."

Is it still possible to play dumb? "Me? Kiss who?"

"AZUL!" The ginger yelled as he hurriedly pulled out his phone and showed her what was on the screen.

It was... It was her. And Azul. Kissing.

The cafe she worked at had been gaining popularity for some time now so encountering students from both Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy was hardly a surprise.

"Cater took that," He explained, "He and Trey were supposed to visit you, but then he saw you go up to Azul and then that happened."

Oh my fucking god.

A memory resurfaced from when Cater and the others heard that the cafe she was working in was gaining a lot of attention. He promised he would drop by sometime with Trey or Riddle, and as luck would have it, it just HAD to be at the time when she...

Oh god. This is bad. This is really fucking bad. If Cater knew, then EVERYONE knew.

"Yuu..." Jack started slowly, "You're not dating Azul, are you?" He grimaced at his own question. Everyone else looked at her waiting for an answer.

She sighed. Even though the reason was going to sound stupid (which it was), she couldn't lie to them when they were looking at her like that. There was no reason to hide it anyway, after everything she had gone through with them.

It's quite a depressing story, but even in her own world, Yuu was an outcast. Since middle school, she had trained herself not to make a fuss over things she couldn't control. If no one wanted to accept her, then so be it, all she had to do was accept herself. She never let other people's opinions deter her, instead, she worked her hardest not to let it bother her. She buried herself in her work, focusing only on her academics and her part-time jobs as a way to cope with the loneliness. It all paid off since she got accepted into her dream college.

She was supposed to start university in a month, but her sudden arrival in Twisted Wonderland changed all her plans. Despite all her hard work, she had to start over again in this new world where she had nothing, knew nothing, knew no one, and as far as the law was concerned, she didn't exist here at all.

Yuu, once again, had to navigate her way through NRC alone-- until... Grim, Ace, and Deuce. Then Jack, then Epel, then Ortho...

In a way, it was like falling in love. She entered Twisted Wonderland a feral stranger, but these people accepted her, as strange and quirky as they were in their own right, she felt right at home in their little group. Even though some of them would deny it, she knew that they always got her back.

"It's a bit of a long story."

And like clockwork, Ace and Deuce sat on the same couch she was sitting on, Jack took the armchair on her left while Epel proceeded to sit on the floor in front of her, propping his elbow on the coffee table next to him, while Ortho simply sat on said coffee table. They did this in sync, with all their eyes trained on her the whole time.

She let out a deep sigh, preparing herself for a lengthy explanation. She had a lot to say to them, and one of them was the fact that she didn't tell any of them about Kelvin Watson and his persistent advances.

"Listen, I promise you guys it's not—"

"Prefect."

Fuck.

She didn't need to look at the door to know who that smooth, melodic deep voice belonged to. But just like dominos, she followed the befuddled gazes of her friends as they turned to the doorway where Azul happened to be standing.

When the fuck did he get here and why do people keep barging into my house???

"Azul," she stammered, standing up to greet him.

"I didn't know you had company," he strode over to her smoothly. Was it that natural for him to be graceful?!

"Oh, uh.."

"Did you already tell them?" He asked when she was busy mulling over what to say. What was he going on?

"T...Tell us what?" Ace was the first one to ask. Well, the bravest one to speak up first, to be painfully accurate.

"I'm sure you already suspect it," Azul said with a modest smile that almost looked...kind. If the whole contract incident hadn't happened months back she would have believed him to be innocent, and she was sure her friends would have believed the same thing too. "We didn't mean to hide it at first, but with everything Yuu and I were going through... well, I hope you understand."

No way. There's no goddamn way.

"S-So it's true?!" Deuce asked this time, "That you two..."

"Well, we have been going on dates..." She felt a subtle but large and firm pressure on her lower back— no, not her back, but the spot between her back and her waist— steadying her, and she didn't need to turn around to know that it was Azul's hand that was precisely 3.5 inches above her ass.

Holy shit.

It was an intimate gesture that sent tingles throughout her body, nearly overriding her senses. Her friends were staring, and she was sure that they could see the heat rushing to her face in the form of the color rose pink.

How was he this good at being charming?! No, maybe it was the kiss that desensitized her— she shouldn't have to think or FEEL this way about Azul Ashengrotto of all people.

"Is everything alright?" Azul asked in a gentle voice. Azul was never gentle. He was calm, calculating, and cold, but Yuu found it so hard to think when she felt his hand rubbing her softly as if to comfort her, and when he stopped, his hand was now 2 inches above her ass. And it made her so, so, dizzy.

"Just tired, and overwhelmed," she managed to say without stuttering or fainting.

"That won't do," his brows furrowed, he was really good at looking concerned. "Come, let's have some tea at my office."

No. Nonononono— tea at his office means being alone with him, and she does NOT want to be alone with anyone right now. Especially him.

"You don't have to," she said politely, trying to hear her own voice over the sound of her beating heart, "you must be busy."

"No, please. With the disaster of a date we had yesterday, I wish to make it up to you," he continued the act (why was he even doing it in the first place?!?), "Still... I had no idea one of your admirers would be persistent enough to ruin it. I should have seen it coming." He added context. Great. Context means more questions from her friends.

"It's...it's really alright..." and please stop, my brain can't take much of this anymore.

He moved his hand straight behind her back before gently nudging her, "Shall we? I've acquired some rare sweets for you, as well."

Oh God. She loves sweets and he knows it.

"Um, I guess we'll see you then," Ace scratched the back of his neck, looking rather awkward, "Yuu, I'll text you later when, uh...yeah."

She nodded as Azul took her hand (and heavens his hands were so soft) and led her out of the dorm.

"Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to prank me or something? Do you have brain cancer? Do I have brain cancer? Is this a new business scheme where you scam a person into dating you so that you can get what you want from them?"

She ignored Jade's look of amusement as he poured tea into her cup, and Floyd's snort as he leaned against the bookshelf right behind Azul. The aforementioned boy was sitting on another couch across from her, leaning back with a deep sigh.

Why is HE looking exasperated?! Wasn't he the one who kept up the whole "dating" spiel?! Why did he do that?! I was about to tell my friends the truth!!

The walk to Mostro Lounge felt longer than it should have. Though it normally took several minutes (even shorter if you ran for your life, ideally away from it though), getting there felt like hours when you're being exposed to gawking students who happened to be passing by, and for some fucking reason there was a bunch of them on the street when they were walking. They surely noticed the hand that smoothly moved to her shoulder as well as their close proximity. She might have even seen a shocked Riddle and Trey.

"I'm not that enthusiastic about it either, okay?" He said, like, y'know, a liar.

"Then why?"

"Because I would like to make a deal with you."

"Of course you do," she rolled her eyes, picking up her teacup, "I've seen this coming. For the record, I'm not setting up Ramshackle for collateral again. I don't think I have anything significant to give you," aside from my newly acquired book collection of The Devilish Duke. A really hot and funny romcom set in the 18th century. Good shit.

"It's not Ramshackle Dorm that I want."

"Then what do you want?"

"You."

At that moment, Yuu experienced a feeling that was dangerously similar to what you call a "hypnagogic jerk", also known as that feeling where you think you're falling in your sleep, only to jerk awake, sweating like crazy on your bed and not falling off a cliff.

Yes, there's a term for that.

That sudden jerk in her body nearly caused her to choke on her tea. She quickly placed the teacup down and coughed into her sleeve several times before staring wide-eyed at Azul.

She expected to see him with his usual infuriatingly attractive smirk but...

Why is he looking away?!

"Ugh, whatever," she composed herself, taking a cookie from one of the plates. As it turns out, Azul did have some sweets in his office. Rare ones too... "The answer is no. Did you know that you're the very definition of a 'red flag'?"

"How flattering," he deadpanned. "Listen, this is important."

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms as she chewed the cookie. She stayed silent afterward, a gesture to let him continue. Azul told the twins to leave the room before speaking.

"I had a meeting with a potential business partner a couple of days ago. It was one that I was particularly looking forward to," he began, "the negotiation was doing well, but there was one setback."

She furrowed her brows, "Which is...?"

"He thought I was too young, therefore, not quite... experienced, or mature."

Her eyes widened. She wouldn't say it to his face, but despite his young age (they were both 17), Azul was already skilled in both academics and business, he gave off an air of professionalism and maturity, the very picture of a sophisticated businessman.

"That's...disappointing," she muttered.

"Very much so," he breathed out, almost exhausted. No wonder he was exasperated, that meeting must have been plaguing his thoughts the whole time...

She encouraged him to continue.

"Well, anyway, I tried to appeal to him to get an agreement, but he insisted that he just couldn't get into a business contract with someone who was 'too young'," he nearly rolled his eyes. Nearly. He didn't, but she had the feeling he wanted to. "Anyway, I looked into his background after that—"

"Of course you did."

"And I found out that before he was a successful businessman, he was the only son of the previous company chairman. When he was our age, he was the very definition of 'immature'. He was a spoiled, trust-fund, party-loving playboy who relied too much on his father's influence and money... well, you understand, don't you?"

She nodded. The guy sounded like every male lead of a typical contemporary romance. You know, the good girl x playboy trope where the playboy's whole world changes after meeting the "good girl" and he starts to change himself. She's read a good amount of those types of books.

"Due to his behavior, his father had him transferred from his elite high school to a public high school to teach him a lesson. He also had his allowance considerably lowered, so he couldn't throw any of his elaborate parties, and he was also given a bodyguard to watch his behavior."

She sucked some air through her teeth. For a trust fund boy, it must have been a hard-knock life. Not that she could really relate, she had to work for almost everything she had, so it was routine for her.

"Apparently, his behavior changed when he met his high school sweetheart and his current wife. He retired from his spoiled ways and turned into a responsible and loyal man. They've been married for twelve years now. They just celebrated their 12th wedding anniversary last month."

"Huh... that's actually quite cute," she smiled a little, thinking of how the man's life must have changed when he met his wife. Given that he met her in a public school, she must have come from humbler origins. "But wait, what does this have to do with me?"

"He's quite a family man, and he has a firm belief that a person becomes properly mature when they meet their soulmate," he shifted in his seat, leaning closer as he looked into her eyes. "He will be hosting a fundraising event next month."

"That is to say...?"

"I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend and go with me to the event. If he realizes I have a partner, he will surely consider me mature enough to pass as a potential business partner."

Wow, Azul must really want this guy's support.

"Is it really that worth it?"

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't be asking you to do this. Having a contract with him would increase the chance of opening a second establishment outside of school, not to mention Mostro Lounge greatly benefit from them due to their influence in the industry."

Leave it to Azul to think ahead. He's always been thinking of how to improve Mostro Lounge, whether it's the quality of their menu or their services.

"Have you considered getting a real date?"

"Have you considered getting a real boyfriend?"

"Touché."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Truth be told, as helpful as it was having Azul's aid with getting rid of Kelvin for a day, she didn't think there would be anything else in it for her to keep up this whole dating charade. It wouldn't have even happened if only Cater hadn't taken that picture.

She groaned, "It's gonna be difficult."

"What would be?"

"To pretend that we're dating."

"How?"

"Well... for one, isn't it suspicious that you and I weren't even that close to begin with? And suddenly we're dating?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Not too difficult. We could simply tell them that we were trying to keep it a secret."

"Do you really think anyone would believe that?"

"Your friends certainly did."

"I'm pretty sure this agreement benefits you more than it benefits me."

"I beg to differ," he said, "I've prepared a list of benefits for you. I'm a rather generous man after all."

"Your tone is starting to piss me off."

"What?"

"You're starting to sound like Crowley."

He snorts, "Very well then. I'll try to avoid that in the future. Wouldn't want to upset my future girlfriend after all."

"I haven't agreed to your contract yet."

"Yet," he emphasized, she followed with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, I obviously wouldn't leave any job uncompensated. As long as our contract is on, I will be at your service. I can help you with studying and homework. If you need study guides, I'll provide them for you. Given that you're already taking care of your financial needs, I'll take the initiative to pay for our dates. If you need protection from bullies and persistent admirers, I'll be one call away. If you get into trouble and you need a cover-up, I'll be there to help you."

He doesn't finish there, "Jade and Floyd will be at your aid as well. If there's anything that you need from them, you simply have to ask. If you follow my terms, I will follow yours."

She bit her lip, for a fake dating job, all those benefits sound... really nice. Considering Azul's standing and influence in Night Raven, all those would be possible.

"Still... It's not going to be easy keeping up this charade you know? No offense but considering your reputation, people are mostly gonna think that you're holding me hostage through a contract."

"We'll be fine as long as we greet each other in the hallways and walk to each other's classes. Your constant presence in Mostro Lounge will help as well."

She rolled her eyes, "Dude, people who are dating don't just walk to each other's classes together or say hi in the hallways, you know? Do you even know the first thing about dating?"

Azul clears his throat as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "I...admit I'm not an expert in this kind of field. But it's not like you can say you're any better."

She rolled her eyes. Again. "FYI, I've dated twice before, so I'd say I'm more of an expert on this than you are." No, she isn't.

Her first boyfriend was in middle school, and the only reason why she dated him was because he confessed to her in front of their whole damn class and all their classmates cooing and cheering pressured her into saying yes to him. They lasted a solid two and a half months.

The second one... was a bit more complicated. They lasted quite long, but that was because Yuu thought that they were going to last the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, that was too good to be true. Everything that seems perfect at first glance never turns out that way in the end.

"Ah... I see. Well then, what do people who are dating do?" For some reason, he sounded a little defeated.

"Well, uh, they...talk."

"About?"

"A lot of things. Their hobbies, their favorite food, the coffee they drank this morning, the shitty customer that keeps asking for the manager just because they thought the croissant they ordered tasted off and therefore demanded a refund even though they already finished it all-"

He snorted. She glared at him, "Hey, that's some serious stuff, okay? People like that are like, the worst."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, "I didn't say anything, but I do agree. Unreasonable customers are the worst. Anyway, what else do people dating do?"

"Uh...They pick apples together, frolic in fields, go on picnic dates." Sounds idiotic but—

"Sounds idiotic," Azul sighed as he crossed his arms, echoing the words in her mind, "Perhaps you should just go tell your friends that we went out and frolicked in the fields."

It was her turn to snort, "Like they would believe that."

"Like I said: idiotic."

"But hey, picnics are fun."

"Sure."

"Ahem. Anyway, aside from that..." she tapped her chin carefully as she continued to wrack her mind. "Well, people who date do a lot of things together, honestly. Hard to pinpoint but, they often eat breakfast together, get coffee together, they know each other's favorite pizza, they hug, hold hands...they...kiss."

"I can't imagine ever doing that." The twitch on his lips was enough to indicate that he was holding back a smile.

She giggled in response, "Like I would ever kiss you."

"Oh? I certainly wasn't the one who initiated it, unless I do have brain cancer and I'm misremembering things."

"I'm really sorry about that," she said, mortified at the resurfacing memory.

Surprisingly, Azul shrugs it off, "It already happened. There's no use crying over spilled milk."

What surprised her more, however, was how casual Azul seemed while they were talking. She failed to realize that at some point, he had dropped his businessman act and started talking to her like... a normal person. Like an actual Azul. It was strange, for some reason.

Silence stretched on for a few moments as she contemplated the offer once more. Dating Azul... even if it's pretend, wasn't an easy choice to make. The thought of fake dating wasn't a pleasant thought to begin with. It seemed more like a waste of time than an investment, but with all the benefits he's offering... maybe having him around would help...?

The biggest thing she was worrying about was keeping up the lie to her friends. They were her world, after all, and she wasn't ready to lose their trust just yet. But their reactions earlier were already enough to make her fall on her knees— Azul wasn't exactly the...best person to date. She was sure that Ace, Deuce, and Grim still have war flashbacks after what he made them go through during the incident with Octavinelle, and Jack trusts that she knows better than to suck up to Azul. Epel wasn't there during the incident, and so was Ortho, but she knew well enough that they were weary of him.

But...

"Well?" He suddenly spoke up, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her very... tired and messy thoughts. "I can write up the contract if you're willing to agree."

She bit her lip, "Can you...give me some more time to think about it?"

He stared at her for a moment before nodding, "Yes, of course. Take your time."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #The Boyfriend Contract - TWST fanfic

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bookishcarmela · 4 months

Text

Shadows of Affection

warnings: none

Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 6: mothers warning

Walking out of the citadel, you maintained a facade of calm and composure until you turned a corner and stumbled into an alleyway. Collapsing against the cool bricks, you curled up, trying to make sense of the chaos that unfolded. The sun's harsh rays aggravated your eyes, and your breath came in uneven gasps, a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through your veins. The recent events left me bewildered — had Clemensia met the same fate as Arachne? Confusion, anger, and fear consumed you. Fear of Dr. Gaul, fear of the Capitol, fear of everything. If those meant to protect you played recklessly with your life, how could you trust anyone? The foundations of trust shattered, leaving me with an unsettling question: How does one survive when trust is a luxury denied.

A surge of bile clawed its way from your stomach to your throat, a visceral response to the overwhelming horror that unfolded. "I don't want this. I never wanted any of this," echoed within you. Arachne's desperate plea for life, Clemensia's piercing screams, and Dr. Gaul's threat reverberated in your mind. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and an agonizing scream clawed at your throat. In that moment, you longed for the comfort of your father, to be cradled in your arms, reassured that everything would be okay. The yearning for solace, love, and the affirmation that the world could still be gentle felt like an ache in your bones.

You sat there, cradling yourself in the aftermath, feeling like hours had passed before summoning the courage to stand. The thought of going to school in your current state was unbearable, so you opted to walk home. The journey was an attempt to compose yourself before facing the dreaded meeting with Quincy. Upon reaching home, you pushed everything deep down, almost as if you could blur out the memories of the harrowing ordeal. Entering your house, you presented yourself with a façade of composure, holding your head high. Christa informed you that Quincy was waiting in his office.

Ascending the stairs, you took a deep breath before opening the door. Quincy sat at a grand mahogany desk in a cream-colored room adorned with old portraits. He wore a tailored suit, engrossed in scattered papers. Behind him, a tall bookcase held ancient-looking books, and the room carried the faint scent of old leather and sandalwood. It exuded an air of calm refinement, a space for focused work and deep thought. Despite the serene surroundings, an overwhelming hatred for Quincy simmered within you. This office, once your father's, now occupied by Quincy, felt like an intrusion—a desecration of your family's legacy. He, an impostor, a new money nobody, acting as if he owned the place, stirred a profound sense of disgust within you.

As you fully entered Quincy's study, meeting his cold stare head-on. He reclined in his chair, eyeing you with disdain. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Out all night, I hear? Care to explain where you vanished to?”

You stood tall, offering a sly smile. “Missed me, Quincy?”

Quincy chuckled, dripping with condescension. “Ah, the rebel speaks. Remember, young lady, you’re under my roof now. My rules apply here. I won’t have you gallivanting around all hours of the night.”

you, met Quincy's gaze with a smirk. “Oh, I’m well aware,” you retorted, your voice laced with subtle sarcasm. “But let's get it straight, Quincy. This isn’t your house; it’s my father’s. You're just another fleeting presence, new money in old walls, trying to act like somebody.”

Quincy's demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Watch your tone—”

“Tone?” you interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with my tone. But there’s everything wrong with a nobody like you trying to play the lord of the manor in someone else’s estate. You’re just a tiny blip in a grand legacy, Quincy. Remember that.”

“Our little princess thinks she’s clever,” he remarked with a smirk. “But remember, Y/n, time’s ticking. One day you’ll be out of here, and then we’ll see how far your wits take you.”

Your smirk mirrored his. “Add 'escaping a palace of egos' to my list of talents, Quincy. Consider it a challenge.” With your confidence unshaken, you turned on your heel, leaving Quincy stewing in his chair.

After the small victory in a day filled with horror, you convinced yourself that you deserved the small reward of a nap. As soon as you entered your room, you collapsed onto your bed and fell into a deep sleep. What was intended to be a short nap turned into a long slumber. When you finally woke up, the sun had already set, and the house was shrouded in silence, indicating everyone else was asleep. Making your way downstairs, you headed to the kitchen.

As you padded into the kitchen for water, you stumbled upon your mother, swaying slightly with an expensive bottle of wine in hand. Your mother's gaze fixated on you, her words slurred. "Where were you last night? You can't just go around doing whatever you want."

you, exhausted and caught off guard, retorted with a sharp tongue,

"I'm merely following your example, Mother. Trying to keep up with your illustrious standards."Your mother's eyes narrowed, her words biting.

"Don't get cheeky with me, Y/n. Why were you with the Snow boy?" Your surprise was evident. "How do you know that?" you demanded.

Your mother chuckled, a mocking laugh. "The maids saw you come home in clothes that weren't yours. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. So, I'll ask again, What were you doing with that boy?"Attempting to deny it, You were swiftly interrupted.

"I'm not oblivious, Y/n," Your mother interjected firmly. "I know what happens outside this house. You should steer clear of Coriolanus and focus on Felix." Your frustration boiled over. "I'm not interested in Felix like that," you protested. Your mother persisted, warning you of the dangers.

"Coriolanus is bad for you. You're walking down a dangerous path. You only like him because he challenges you, you see a part of yourself in him, but he's just like his father—full of nothing but hate." Your temper flared.

"You don't know anything about him or me!"

"I know more than you think," your mother countered, her voice edged with regret.

"You're just like me, Y/n. We're alike, and I made that mistake with your father. Don't be a fool. Marry Felix; it's safer to marry someone who loves you more than you love them."Anger and hurt flooded you, and you stormed out, seething, leaving your mother's words hanging in the air, unspoken retorts lingering on your tongue.

Despite it being a Saturday, the entire student body convened for homeroom before assembling on the Academy's front steps for Arachne Crane's funeral. Draped in a slim knee-length black dress beneath a tasteful black coat, you adorned yourself with a string of white pearls. As everyone filed in, you scanned the somber crowd, searching for the familiar faces of Sejanus and Coriolanus. It didn't take long before spotting them, but as you moved toward them, a hand gently but firmly intercepted yours, pulling you back. You turned to see Felix, and your mind echoed the conversation with your mother, her cautionary words ringing clear: "Don't repeat my mistake."

As Felix greeted you, with his signature smile "Y/n, you look absolutely captivating today, even amidst such a solemn occasion."

Caught slightly off guard but appreciating the gesture, you asked, "Did you need something, Felix?"

He responded with a charming grin, "Just ensuring you have the best seat in the house." He mentioned he had secured a seat for you next to him, to which you expressed gratitude.

Placing a reassuring hand on the small of your back, he guided you toward the seating area. Glancing back toward where Sejanus and Coriolanus sat, your gaze faltered for a moment before you refocused on Felix.

Surprisingly, you bypassed all the other seats, and you hesitated, "Felix, we just passed all the seats." He chuckled softly, "Yes, because you're sitting with me."

Your protests about seating arrangements in areas reserved for government officials and the president's family were met with Felix's warm smile, "Well, I'm the president's son, and I want

you by my side. Who's to say I can't arrange that?" He led you confidently up toward the stage where the president presided.

As you sat beside Felix, looking out above the assembly, you couldn't deny the allure of the situation. Above the crowd, by Felix's side, thoughts stirred within you. Maybe being with someone like Felix wouldn't be as dire as you imagined. He was handsome, kind, and his status would ensure security, shielding you from the turmoil I'd known. Contemplating a future with him, you entertained the notion that perhaps this could be the right path for you.

In the midst of contemplating a future secured by Felix's charm and status, you found your certainty faltering when you locked eyes with Coriolanus. His disapproving gaze, unaffected by Sejanus's conversation beside him, pierced through you. Yet, you maintain your composure, meeting his stare head-on. He had no right to scrutinize you, especially considering his own entanglement with his little songbird, just as you sought solace with Felix. Maybe, reluctantly, your mother was right—Coriolanus and you weren't meant to be. President Ravenstill's words interrupted your thoughts, honoring the life of Arachne Crane and emphasizing the Capitol's justice to Panem.

The funeral procession emerged, showcasing the Capitol's power. The Peacekeepers, flawless and imposing, marched in unity, followed by a truck bearing the body of the fallen District 10 tribute, Brandy. The remaining tributes, chained and desolate, reminded everyone of the Capitol's dominance over the districts.

The sight of Brandy evoked haunting memories of Arachne's desperate pleas for life. Felix's reassuring grip on your hand offered comfort, a silent promise that things would be alright despite the grim circumstances.

After the funeral concluded, classes resumed their routine, yet Satyria gathered the twenty-two active mentors for an urgent briefing. She revealed that not only were the Hunger Games proceeding, but they were expected to be the most publicized yet. To amplify visibility, the mentors were tasked with guiding their tributes on an arena tour later that afternoon. Although you weren't a mentor, you would substitute for Dr. Gaul, functioning as an insider to scrutinize the arena and observe the mentor-tribute dynamics, reporting your findings back to her.

Despite the air of reluctance among your classmates, none dared to voice concerns; several parents had lodged complaints about inadequate security post-Arachne's death, yet silence prevailed to avoid appearing cowardly. You couldn't shake the feeling of danger and recklessness surrounding the plan. What prevented other tributes from turning on their mentors? However, you kept your reservations to yourself. A cynical part of you speculated whether Dr. Gaul was secretly hoping for another display of violence to publicly penalize another tribute, perhaps even live on camera.

As you stepped out into the sweltering heat, the scene before you unfolded like a grim tableau. The tributes, shackled and guarded, formed a stark line, their presence a stark reminder of the Capitol's unyielding grip. Without a tribute of your own, you positioned yourself beside Professor Sickle, your gaze shifting between the tributes and the boarded-up booths, relics of a time long gone.

The Peacekeepers orchestrated the movements with precision, unlocking the colossal doors to reveal a cavernous lobby. A sense of desolation hung heavy in the air, the remnants of an era left behind by conflict and upheaval. As you ventured deeper into the building, you observed the faded posters and abandoned booths, once vibrant but now tainted by neglect. In the midst of the grandeur marking the Royce family's entrance, a set of dusty turnstiles stood forgotten nearby. These old-fashioned barriers demanded a Capitol token for access, a stark contrast to the exclusive entryway marked by a velvet rope. You couldn't shake the sense of distinction—the other entry seemed for everyday visitors, while the Royce box held comforts from a time when your father was present.

The stark division in the arena was evident. The Royce area boasted luxuries like air-conditioning and plush seats, reminiscent of better days. On the other hand, the Bradford box emitted a vibe of new wealth, exuding an almost obnoxious display of affluence that you found distasteful. The contrast felt overwhelming, amplifying the disparities within the arena.

your early experiences at the arena were marked by childhood visits to the circus and military events led by your father. For nearly a decade, you'd watched the Games from the Braford box, yet nothing quite matched the overwhelming feeling when you stepped onto the field through the main gate.

The sheer size and grandeur of the arena amazed both mentors and tributes, leaving them breathless in the face of such decayed magnificence. The towering rows of seats made you feel minuscule, a mere drop in an ocean, an unnoticed presence amid the colossal setting. The arrival of camera crews snapped you back to reality, and you adopted the composed demeanor of a Royce, portraying an air of indifference to the spectacle around you.

As you surveyed the arena, nothing particularly noteworthy caught your attention. The decrepit grandeur held no secrets or revelations to report back to Dr. Gaul. Dismissing the lack of interest, you spotted Felix among the mentors and made your way towards him, your footsteps echoing faintly in the colossal space.

Joining him, you said, "Quite a different perspective from down here, isn't it? The raw reality of the Games without the comfort of the boxes."

Felix nodded, his eyes still on the tributes. "Indeed. It's a stark contrast to the polished image we're used to."

Your conversation took a turn as Felix, with a playful grin, remarked, "You know, Y/n, it might be interesting to experience the Games from this angle more often."

you arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "Is that so?"

Felix leaned in slightly, his tone flirtatious. "How about dinner after this? A change of scenery, perhaps?"

you hesitated for a moment, thoughts of Coriolanus flickering in your mind. Yet, a reminder of your mother's words lingered –always marry someone that loves you more than you love them. Suppressing conflicting emotions, you smiled at Felix.

"Sure, dinner sounds wonderful."

As you continued to watch the tributes below, you wrestled with your feelings, determined to prioritize your future over the complexities of your heart.

For a moment you smiled, letting a blush show on your cheeks, forgetting where you were, how depressing the backdrop. For a moment there was just felix's smile, and the hint of flirtation in it.

Then the world exploded.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #coriolanus x lucy gray #lucy gray x coriolanus #the hunger games #my fic #fanfic #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #lucy grey baird #young coriolanus snow #x reader #x y/n #x you

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copperhawkthoughts · 4 months

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Fearne’s mom’s backstory is basically the plot of a Dark Fae Booktok Romance trilogy

Book one, The Sorrowlord’s Delight, is the standard tropey “untameable, sexy young woman faun swept off feet by handsome, charismatic, evil misunderstood vampire werewolf demon prince fae” and ends with Birdie & Ollie’s climactic escape from the Sorrowlord’s keep to live happily ever after(???)

Book two, The Songbird’s Flight, starts off as the promised domestic bliss epilogue with Birdie & Ollie building a happy little nest, but quickly takes a turn when the heavily-pregnant Birdie is kidnapped by her ex and her labour is induced in a weird and frankly kind of unsettling, I-am-still-reading-a-romance,-right?, ritual involving evil mages and the evil, haunted red moon. The climax of this instalment is somehow now a heist(??) as Birdie & Ollie team up with Morri to save infant Fearne from her father’s clutches. The book ends as Birdie makes her dreadful, necessary bargain with a deeply grey Morri to keep Fearne safe.

Book three, Fate’s Daughter, is widely panned. The narrative’s frequent and seemingly non-linear timeskips in the first act prove confusing, as the story switches back and forth between scenes of Fearne growing up with Morri over the course of nearly a hundred years in the span of a couple chapters, while spending several more following Birdie & Ollie on the increasingly implausible run from the Unseelie Court over only half a dozen years. No one is sure how the math works, but it proves a convenient - if, again, unsettling - device for aging up the baby from the last book into the sexy ingenue the genre is more suited for. The latter half of the book focuses heavily on Fearne’s adventures, all but abandoning Birdie & Ollie, and ends on an unsatisfying note with several major plot threads hanging.

No one is really sure if or when book four is coming out.

#I literally don’t know what any of this is #why did I come here to post one idle semi-amusing thought #and end up writing a synopsis/review of a fake romance trilogy?#what the fuck copper #critical role #bells hells #fearne calloway #birdie calloway #cr spoilers #cr shitpost #critical role spoilers

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yournameloveskpop · 3 months

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The Forest Of Frost

Paring: Yepnjun x Reader

Style: Fantasy AU, SFW, evil Yeonjun

Summery: Y/N finds a book called frost in her local library. When she starts to read it the books pulls her into the world where she meets Yeonjun and the others. The world is not all what it seems

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 11,133

In the musty corridors of the local library, Y/N's footsteps echoed softly as she wandered. She inhaled deeply, savoring the mingled scents of old and new books. Drawn to the fantasy section, her eyes roamed eagerly over the shelves.

As she meandered, she stumbled upon an ancient, neglected corner of the library. Dust and cobwebs adorned the forgotten books and strange ornaments. A peculiar red glass ball among the artifacts caught her attention. She picked it up, her eyes widening at the sight of a dark, sinister figure within its depths.

Suddenly, a loud thud behind her made her jump. She turned sharply to see an old book on the ground. Placing the glass ball down with a hint of reluctance, she bent to retrieve the book. It was titled "FROST," its cover an intriguing mix of off-brown and shimmering silver.

Opening it, she read aloud, "A world you will see in your dreams, but beware, sometimes your dreams can become reality." A shiver ran down her spine, but her curiosity was piqued.

She found a quiet corner, opened the book, and began reading. "Once upon a time," she murmured, smiling at the cliché beginning. But the story quickly took a dark turn.

"Within a forest vibrant with life, five brothers lived in harmony, adored by all. Then, darkness descended, a mist consuming everything. When it cleared, the brothers were changed, now creatures of evil, their hearts corrupted by a ravenous hunger for power."

The narrative shifted, and Y/N gasped as she read about a young girl lost in the same forest, a girl named Y/N. "That's my name..." she whispered, a sense of dread washing over her. Confused and unnerved, Y/N tried to read on, but her vision blurred, her eyelids heavy. Overwhelmed, she succumbed to a deep, dreamlike sleep, the book slipping from her grasp.

As Y/N regained consciousness, she found herself in a frost-covered forest, shivering in her summer clothes. Disoriented, she realized she was in the same forest described in the book. Fireflies glimmered in the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the frost-laden grass.

"I need to find a way out," she whispered to herself, her breath forming clouds in the cold air. As she moved, hoping to warm up, the forest seemed alive with unsettling noises, heightening her fear.

Suddenly, a monstrous creature leaped out, its eyes fixed on her. Y/N's heart pounded as she ran, dodging obstacles and narrowly avoiding a fall. In a clearing, she spotted a man dressed in black, his gaze lost in the night sky. Desperate, she called out to him.

"Please, help me!" she cried, approaching him.

The man turned, his dark brown eyes appraising her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He studied the creature, then with a casual snap of his fingers, it disintegrated into thin air.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice calm.

Y/N, still trembling, nodded. The man helped her up and draped his black coat over her shoulders. "Lost, are you?" he asked, his smile kind yet unnerving.

Y/N explained her predicament, and he offered to take her somewhere warm. "I'm Yeonjun," he introduced himself.

"I'm Y/N," she replied, still catching her breath. Despite the unsettling feeling, she followed him deeper into the forest.

As they walked, Yeonjun's demeanor shifted subtly. The forest seemed to respond to his presence, the darkness growing denser around them. Y/N's heart raced, not just from the cold, but from a growing sense of dread.

Yeonjun's voice cut through the silence. "You're not from around here, are you, Y/N? This forest is full of secrets and dangers. You're lucky you found me."

His words sent chills down her spine, a mixture of fear and curiosity welling up inside her. The forest seemed to whisper around them, and Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that Yeonjun was not just any ordinary man, but someone—or something—far more sinister.

As Y/N and Yeonjun walked, the forest seemed to close in around them, its shadows stretching like long fingers in the moonlight. The chill in the air grew deeper, almost palpable. Finally, they arrived at a castle-like building, its imposing stone walls rising out of the forest like a forgotten monument. The interior was a strange blend of ominous and inviting, dimly lit yet somehow warm. Dark creatures roamed the halls, responding to Yeonjun's whispered commands.

Yeonjun's hospitality was unnerving. He ordered the creatures about, sending one to fetch the chefs, another to bring warmer clothes for Y/N. Her unease grew with each act of kindness, a sharp contrast to the dark, unsettling atmosphere of the castle.

In the living space, Yeonjun gestured for Y/N to sit on an ornate sofa. His gaze was intense, following her every move, lingering on her with an unsettling interest. As she recounted her story of finding the book in the library and waking up in this strange world, Yeonjun's expression flickered with an emotion that was hard to place—something between fascination and something darker.

"There's more to this place than meets the eye, Y/N," Yeonjun said, his voice low and haunting. "You've stumbled into a realm where the line between reality and nightmare blurs. And now that you're here, leaving might not be so simple."

Y/N's heart raced, a mix of fear and a strange, compelling draw towards Yeonjun. "What do you mean? I need to get back home," she stammered.

Yeonjun leaned closer, his dark eyes piercing. "This forest, this castle, they have a way of keeping things... and people. You're part of a story now, Y/N, a dark tale that's still unfolding."

The atmosphere thickened, the air growing colder. Shadows seemed to dance along the walls, taking on menacing shapes. Y/N felt the weight of Yeonjun's gaze, heavy with an unspoken desire.

"I can't stay here," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, you have to help me get back."

Yeonjun's smile was a mix of pity and dark amusement. "It's not that simple, Y/N. In this place, wishes and fears become reality. And sometimes, they become nightmares."

As the window to the living area shattered open, an icy gust ushered in four ominous shadows. They solidified into distinct figures, and Y/N's heart raced as Yeonjun greeted them with a contrived sweetness. "Welcome, brothers," he said, his voice laced with an underlying tension.

The tallest, a looming figure with a prominent scar, surveyed the room with a penetrating gaze. "The forest has chosen," he stated, his deep voice resonating through the room. His eyes, dark and calculating, briefly settled on Y/N, igniting a sense of foreboding within her.

A sense of realization dawned upon Y/N – these were the brothers from the story, each twisted and changed by the mysterious mist.

The second brother, his hair a light brown and eyes oddly mismatched, one blue and one brown, stepped forward with a curious tilt of his head. "Has the forest brought us a bride?" he inquired, his voice a curious blend of intrigue and malice.

The third, exuding a dangerous charm, clapped his hands with an unsettling zest. His eyes, gleaming with mischief, appraised Y/N. "She's quite the beauty," he remarked with a sly grin. "A perfect match for me, wouldn't you say?"

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within them. "She is mine," he declared possessively. "I found her first, and that's final."

The last brother, his blond hair setting him apart, exuded a calmer aura. "If she is indeed the chosen one, perhaps we should acquaint ourselves?" he suggested, his tone more measured than the others.

Ignoring Yeonjun's growing irritation, the enthusiastic brother, Beomgyu, stepped closer to Y/N, his eyes alight with excitement. "I'm Beomgyu," he announced, taking her hand gently and pressing a kiss to its back, eliciting a blush from her.

Hueningkai, the blond brother, approached with a soft smile. "And I am Hueningkai," he said, his demeanor radiating a warmth that felt oddly out of place among his brothers.

Taehyun, the one with the captivating mismatched eyes, gave a nod of acknowledgment. "I'm Taehyun," he introduced himself, his voice carrying an eerie calmness.

Finally, the scarred brother, Soobin, stepped forward. "And I am Soobin," he said, his scar seemingly a stark reminder of the forest's dark influence.

Y/N's mind raced as she pieced together their identities with the tale from the book. The realization hit her like a wave of ice-cold water – she was in the midst of the very brothers turned monsters by the forest's malevolent force.

Sensing the escalating tension and Yeonjun's possessiveness, Y/N seized the moment. As Yeonjun opened his mouth to reprimand his brothers, she darted out of the room, her instincts screaming for her to escape.

Soobin turned to Yeonjun, a hint of concern in his voice. "Should we not go after her?"

Yeonjun's lips curled into a menacing smile. "Let her think she can escape. The chase makes the game all the more thrilling," he replied, a dark glint in his eyes.

Y/N's flight through the castle was a blur of shadow and fear. Her heart pounded in her chest as the sounds of the dark creatures stirring echoed behind her. The castle 's corridors seemed endless, a maze designed to disorient and terrify. She could hear the brothers' voices, distant yet haunting, as they debated giving chase.

Every shadow appeared to reach for her, every creak of the old castle amplified in her panicked state. The portraits on the walls seemed to watch her, their eyes following her frantic movements. The castle itself felt alive, its very walls pulsating with a sinister energy.

As she burst through the heavy doors into the forest, the night air hit her with its chilling embrace. The forest was no sanctuary; it was a labyrinth of darkness, its trees like silent sentinels watching her every move. The moonlight cast eerie shadows, transforming the familiar into the grotesque.

Y/N's mind raced with fear and confusion. How could a simple visit to the library have led to this nightmarish reality? The brothers, once figures in a story, were now terrifyingly real, each with their own twisted presence and intent.

She could hear the distant howls of the creatures that roamed the forest, the sound sending shivers down her spine. The realization that she was truly part of this dark tale, a pawn in a game she didn't understand, was overwhelming.

The forest seemed to close in around her, the path twisting and turning, disorienting her further. Branches snagged at her clothes, roots tripped her feet, as if the forest itself was trying to hinder her escape.

Her thoughts returned to the book, to the warning it contained. Had she somehow been transported into its pages, into a story that was now her reality? The line between the world she knew and this realm of nightmares was blurring, the distinction increasingly unclear.

Panic set in as she realized the depth of her predicament. She was lost in a world where fantasy and reality collided, a world that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. The brothers, embodiments of the forest's dark magic, were not just characters in a tale but now a very real threat to her.

Suddenly, Beomgyu emerged from the shadows, colliding with her. The impact nearly sent her tumbling, but he caught her by the hips, preventing her fall. His face was close to hers, a pout forming on his lips. "Why would you run from me?" he asked, his voice laced with feigned hurt and a disturbingly playful smirk.

Before she could react, he pinned her against a tree, his grip firm. "You can't escape me," he whispered, his breath warm against her face.

In a desperate move, Y/N delivered a swift knee kick to his privates. Staggering back in pain, Beomgyu's laugh was disturbingly amused despite the apparent hurt.

She took this chance to escape, her breath ragged as she plunged deeper into the dark forest. But her relief was short-lived. She soon found herself encircled by a ring of fire, with Soobin standing on the other side. The flames danced menacingly, yet when she tentatively touched them, they were cool, an illusion. With newfound determination, she leaped through the flames, escaping another brother's trap.

Her heart raced as she thought she spied an exit, only to realize it was the edge of a steep cliff. Skidding to a halt, she teetered dangerously close to the precipice. Just as she felt herself losing balance, Taehyun's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink.

His mismatched eyes bore into hers, a sinister fascination in his gaze. "Careful now," he murmured. "We wouldn't want you to fall, would we?"

Twisting out of his grasp, Y/N darted away, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She stumbled upon a hollow under a tree and quickly squeezed inside, her body shaking from fear and exertion.

As she struggled to quiet her breathing, Yeonjun's and Hueningkai's voices approached. Yeonjun's words were laced with obsession. "She will be mine," he declared fiercely. "I'll make sure of it, even if I have to harm my own brothers."

Hueningkai listened, his demeanor unusually calm. He glanced toward the tree where Y/N hid, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. However, he said nothing, choosing instead to pacify Yeonjun. "Let's keep searching," he suggested, his voice unnervingly serene.

Yeonjun, fueled by his possessive desire, hurried off. Hueningkai lingered, then crouched to Y/N's level at the tree. His expression lacked the menacing intent of his brothers. "Stay here a bit longer," he whispered before rushing off, leaving her stunned and bewildered.

Just as she considered making a run for it, another figure appeared. Clad in all white and almost glowing, he exuded a gentle aura. "I can take you somewhere safe, away from the brothers," he said softly.

He introduced himself as Sunoo, and his presence was like a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

Hesitantly, Y/N took his outstretched hand, and they left the forest together. As they crossed the boundary, the brothers stopped in their tracks, unable to follow. Trapped within the forest's confines, they could only watch in frustration.

Yeonjun's face contorted with rage, his fury palpable. "She was mine!" he roared, the forest trembling at his wrath. It seemed as though he might set the entire forest ablaze in his anger, a testament to the dangerous power he wielded.

Sunoo led Y/N through the darkness, his presence a guiding light in the overwhelming darkness. As they moved further away from the forest, the oppressive atmosphere began to lift, replaced by a sense of cautious hope.

Sunoo's guidance, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope amidst the terror. Sunoo's calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the ominous presence of the brothers. They walked in silence, the only sound being their footsteps and the distant, frustrated howls of the brothers echoing behind them.

As they journeyed away from the forest, Sunoo finally spoke, his voice a soothing whisper. "The brothers are bound to the forest by a curse," he explained. "They cannot leave its borders, but they are masters within it. You were lucky to escape."

Y/N, still catching her breath, looked at Sunoo with a mixture of gratitude and confusion. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I am Sunoo, a guardian of sorts," he replied, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness. "I've watched over the forest for centuries, trying to contain its darkness. The brothers were not always like this. The forest changed them, twisted their hearts."

They reached a clearing where the moonlight shone bright, casting a serene glow over the landscape. The contrast between the darkness of the forest and the tranquil clearing was stark, almost surreal.

"Why help me?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling.

Sunoo looked at her, his expression filled with empathy. "Because not everyone should be a victim of this forest's curse. You don't belong in their dark tale," he said softly.

In the safety of the clearing, Y/N felt the terror of the night begin to ebb away, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. The reality of her situation was still hard to grasp – a simple visit to the library had spiraled into a nightmare.

Sunoo guided her to a small, quaint cottage at the edge of the clearing. "You can rest here," he said, opening the door. "The brothers won't find you. I'll make sure of it."

As she stepped into the cottage, Y/N felt a sense of security for the first time since she had opened the book. The cottage was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the dark, foreboding castle and the menacing forest.

Sunoo prepared a small meal for her, and as she ate, he told her more about the forest, the brothers, and the curse that bound them. "The forest feeds on fears and desires," he explained. "It lures people in with promises or curiosity, trapping them in its twisted narratives."

Y/N listened intently, her mind racing with questions. "Is there a way to break the curse?" she asked.

Sunoo's expression turned pensive. "There are legends of a way to break it, but it's a perilous path. It's not just about escaping the forest but confronting the darkness within it and within oneself."

As the night deepened, Sunoo offered her a place to sleep. Y/N, despite the safety of the cottage, found herself restless. Her thoughts were haunted by the events of the night, the brothers' twisted affection, and the eerie, unyielding grip of the forest.

Lying in the darkness, Y/N realized that her journey was far from over. To find her way back to her world, she would need to confront the heart of the forest's darkness. The thought was daunting, but with Sunoo's help, perhaps there was a glimmer of hope.

Outside, the forest remained, silent and watchful, its secrets hidden in the shadows. The brothers, thwarted for now, would not give up so easily.

Back at the castle, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Yeonjun paced back and forth, his rage palpable. "This is your fault!" he spat at his brothers. "If you hadn't interfered, she would be mine now!"

The brothers gathered in the dimly lit room, each displaying their own reaction to Yeonjun's fury. The air crackled with a dark energy, a reflection of the turmoil within the castle's walls.

Beomgyu leaned against a wall, a twisted smirk on his face. "Oh, she's quite the spirited one," he mused, rubbing his side where Y/N had kicked him. "I must admit, her defiance is... enticing," he said, his voice dripping with a disturbing desire.

Soobin, the more level-headed among them, exhaled a heavy sigh. "Blaming us won't bring her back, Yeonjun," he said, his tone laced with frustration. "Besides, you're the one who wanted a chase."

Taehyun lounged on a nearby sofa, seemingly unbothered by the chaos. He flicked a small flame between his fingers, watching it dance with disinterest. "She's gone, Yeonjun. Maybe you should just let it go," he drawled, his lack of concern only fueling Yeonjun's anger.

In the corner of the room, Hueningkai appeared engrossed in a book, his expression unreadable. He seemed to deliberately keep his distance from the heated exchange, his silence a stark contrast to the escalating tension among his brothers.

Yeonjun turned his wrathful gaze on Hueningkai. "And you! You knew something was off about that tree where she hid. Why didn't you say anything?" he accused, his voice rising.

Hueningkai looked up, his eyes meeting Yeonjun's. "Maybe I did sense something," he admitted calmly, "But what difference does it make now? She's with Sunoo, beyond our reach."

Yeonjun's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "This isn't over," he growled. "We will have her back, one way or another."

The room fell silent, the brothers exchanging uneasy glances. The castle itself seemed to respond to Yeonjun's vow, the walls echoing with a sinister energy.

As the night outside deepened, the forest seemed to whisper its dark secrets to the wind. The brothers, back at the castle, understood the gravity of the situation. Y/N had transformed from mere prey into a coveted prize in a sinister game driven by power and obsession.

Inside Sunoo's cottage, Y/N, exhausted from the night's harrowing events, had succumbed to a fitful sleep. Sunoo sat by her side, his attention divided between watching over her and fiddling with a deck of cards adorned with cryptic imagery. Each card seemed to hold its own dark secret, adding to the room's mystical ambiance.

The door creaked open, admitting a sliver of moonlight and the silhouettes of six men. Sunoo glanced up, his finger pressed to his lips, signaling the newcomers to tread softly. As they stepped into the dim light, he greeted them quietly: Jay, Jaeyun, Jungwon, RiKi, Sunghoon, and Heeseung.

Sunghoon, his eyes settling on the sleeping Y/N, whispered, "Who is she?" His voice was a mix of curiosity and caution.

"She found a book named 'FROST'," Sunoo began, his voice low and steady. "It brought her to our world. The brothers believe the forest has chosen her as their bride. But I think she's here for another reason... to break the curse that has ensnared them since the mist descended."

Intrigue flickered in the eyes of the men gathered around. Jay leaned closer, his expression somber. "A curse breaker? Here, in our midst? That's unheard of."

RiKi examined Y/N with a thoughtful gaze, "If she can lift the curse, it could change everything. The darkness that's gripped the forest could finally recede." He added.

Heeseung who was standing slightly apart, observed Y/N with a blend of admiration and concern. "But how can we be sure? What if she's just another pawn in the forest's cruel game?"

As they conversed in hushed tones, the night outside gradually gave way to the early hues of dawn. Yet, the forest remained under a shroud of oppressive black clouds, as if the sun's rays were forbidden from touching its cursed soil.

The aroma of cooking food and the soft clatter of utensils eventually roused Y/N from her uneasy slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she was back in the safety of her own home. But the sight of Sunoo and six unfamiliar faces quickly dispelled that illusion.

"Sunoo?" Y/N's voice trembled with confusion and fear as she sat up, her eyes wide as they darted between the men in the room. "Who are they? What's happening?"

Sunoo approached her, his expression a mixture of reassurance and solemnity. "They are friends," he explained gently. "Allies. They're here to help us... to help you."

Y/N's gaze shifted from one stranger to another, each face a story untold, their eyes reflecting a depth of knowledge and experience with the forest's mysteries. "Help me with what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jay stepped forward, the morning light casting shadows across his face. "You've become a part of something much larger than you can imagine. This forest, it's not just a collection of trees and shadows. It's a living entity, haunted by a curse that has twisted its heart."

"And the brothers, once guardians of this forest, have become its prisoners, consumed by the curse's dark power," Jaeyun added.

Jungwon, his voice tinged with a quiet intensity, said, "The book you found in your library is a conduit, a link between your world and ours. It's no coincidence that you're here."

RiKi leaned against the wall and continued, "The brothers believe you're the chosen bride, a part of the forest's enigmatic plans. But we see a different potential in you – the power to break the curse that has held this forest in its dark grip."

Sunghoon gaze fixed on Y/N, spoke solemnly, "This curse, it's more than just a spell. It's a living nightmare that feeds on fears, desires, and the very souls of those it traps."

"And the brothers, they're now mere shadows of their former selves, twisted and corrupted by the forest's influence," Heeseung added.

Y/N listened, each word adding weight to the dread and uncertainty building inside her. "But how can I break a curse? I don't even understand what's happening," she said, her voice shaky.

Sunoo knelt beside her, his eyes earnest. "We don't expect you to face this alone. We're here to guide you, to stand with you against the darkness. But the path ahead is perilous, filled with dangers both seen and unseen."

Jay nodded in agreement. "The forest will test you, challenge you in ways you can't imagine. It's a place where reality blurs, and nightmares take form."

Jaeyun, his expression grave, added, "You'll need to confront the brothers, each bound to the curse in different ways. They're powerful, unpredictable, and dangerous."

"But in their hearts, they're still victims of the forest's curse. There might be a way to reach them, to remind them of who they once were." Jungwon interjected.

Sunghoon looked directly at Y/N he spoke with a hint of urgency, "But we must act swiftly. The longer the curse endures, the stronger it becomes. And the brothers, especially Yeonjun will stop at nothing to keep you here."

Heeseung's tone was somber, concluded, "You're not just fighting for your freedom, but for the soul of this forest, and perhaps even the brothers themselves."

The room fell silent, the gravity of the situation settling like a heavy cloak upon everyone present. Outside, the forest remained shrouded in darkness, its secrets hidden in the shadows. The brothers, each lost in their own turmoil, were yet unaware of the gathering force against them.

Y/N, feeling the weight of her newfound responsibility, took a deep breath. The fear was still there, but alongside it, a spark of determination had ignited. "I don't know how much help I can be, but I won't give up without trying," she resolved, her voice gaining strength.

Y/N gratefully accepted the food and new clothes provided by the men. After the harrowing experiences in the forest, the chance to clean up and change into fresh attire felt like a small luxury. She retreated to a secluded area for some privacy, her mind still reeling from the events that had unfolded.

As she shed her old clothes, a small red glass ball tumbled out of her pocket. She stared at it, perplexed. It was the same ball she had found in the library alongside the book. She was certain she had left it behind, yet here it was, inexplicably in her possession.

The ball seemed ordinary, yet its presence here suggested otherwise. Y/N turned it over in her hands, noticing how the light caught its surface, casting a warm glow. "Could this be important?" she mused, slipping it into the pocket of her new clothes.

Stepping outside, Y/N was greeted by a stark contrast to the forest's oppressive gloom. The sky was a clear blue, and the sun bathed the area in a warm, comforting light. It was a welcome change, offering a semblance of normalcy.

Sunoo noticed her emerge and approached with a bright smile. "You look like you belong in this world," he said, admiring how the clothes suited her. He took her hand gently, leading her to where the others were gathered. "Let's join the others. We have much to plan."

As they walked towards the group, Sunoo began outlining their first objective. "We need to understand the origin of the mist. Such darkness doesn't just appear without cause."

The group was deep in discussion when Hueningkai suddenly appeared at the edge of the clearing. He halted at the invisible boundary where his brothers could venture no further.

The seven men instinctively stepped back, wary of his presence. " You can't move any further Kai!" Sunoo warned and protectively pulled Y/N behind him.

Hueningkai laughed, a sound that lacked the menacing edge of his brothers'. "I know my limits," he said, acknowledging the boundary. Then, to everyone's shock, he took another step forward, then another, showing he could venture further than expected. He stopped just in front of Y/N and Sunoo.

"I need to speak with Y/N alone," Hueningkai said, his gaze fixed on her.

Y/N, feeling a surge of mistrust, shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea," she replied, her voice firm.

Hueningkai reminded her softly, "I was the one who didn't reveal your hiding spot in the tree. And I told Sunoo where to find you."

Sunoo, though wary, added, "That's true, but it doesn't mean we trust you completely."

Hueningkai's expression turned earnest. "I know you all want to break the curse, to save me and my brothers. I can help, but I need to talk to Y/N. It's the only way forward." He looked down, a hint of shame in his demeanor.

Sunoo remained protective, his body language tense. But before he could react, Hueningkai vanished in a swirl of shadows, taking Y/N with him.

Sunoo, his protective instincts kicking in, turned to the others, his expression filled with urgency. "We need to find them, now!"

Jay quickly took charge. "We'll split up. Cover more ground and keep in contact. If you find them, signal the rest of us immediately."

Jaeyun, his brows furrowed in concern, added, "Be cautious. This forest is full of deceptions. Hueningkai may not be as hostile as the others, but we can't underestimate him."

Jungwon, clenching his fists, said resolutely, "Let's move. We can't waste any time."

RiKi, picking up a fallen branch to use as a makeshift staff, nodded in agreement. "We'll find them. Y/N is key to breaking this curse. We can't let anything happen to her."

The group quickly dispersed, each heading in a different direction, their steps hastened by the gravity of the situation.

Meanwhile, Hueningkai and Y/N reappeared in the heart of the forest. Y/N, startled by the sudden teleportation, looked around, trying to get her bearings. "Why did you bring me here?" she demanded, her voice tinged with both fear and defiance.

Hueningkai's grip on her arm was gentle but firm. "I needed to get you away from the others to explain," he began, his tone serious. "The mist, the frost, it didn't just appear. It has a source, a story."

Y/N, still wary, listened as Hueningkai began to recount the tale. "We were lost boys, much like you are now. We found refuge in this forest, which was once vibrant with life and color. Our kindness and willingness to help were what made us beloved by the forest's creatures."

As they walked, the scenery changed, and they soon arrived at a small clearing where a red tent stood. Hueningkai led her inside, where an old, ornate box rested on a table. "This is where it all began," he said, a note of regret in his voice. "We found this box and, against the warnings of our fortune teller, we opened it. That's when the mist and frost were unleashed."

Y/N, looking at the box, felt a chill run down her spine. "So, the curse was self-inflicted?"

Hueningkai nodded solemnly. "Yes, and it consumed everything – the forest, its creatures, and us. It twisted our fears and desires. Lust, possessiveness, obsession, Regrets, loss and darkness took hold of my brothers. What you see now are the manifestations of their deepest fears."

Y/N absorbed his words, a mix of empathy and horror filling her. "And you? How were you affected?"

Hueningkai looked away, his voice a whisper. "I too was changed, but somehow, I retained a part of my true self. Maybe it's because my fears were different, less... dark."

Before Y/N could ask more, the sounds of the search party echoed in the distance. Hueningkai's eyes widened. "They're close. I must go, but remember, the forest is not just a prison; it's also a reflection of our innermost selves. The darkness you see is a manifestation of the curse, but it can be overcome."

Y/N, her mind racing with this new understanding, asked, "How do we overcome it? How do we break the curse?"

Hueningkai, stepping back, replied, "You'll need to confront the forest's heart, the epicenter of the curse. It's not a physical place but a convergence of the forest's darkest energies. To break the curse, you must face it and survive its trials."

"But what about you and your brothers? Will you help us?" Y/N asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

Hueningkai's expression was conflicted. "I will do what I can, but my brothers are deeply under the curse's influence. As for me, I'm torn between two worlds – the darkness of the curse and the fading light of who I once was."

Y/N reached out, her hand hesitating in the air between them. "You can fight it, Hueningkai. You can choose which world you belong to."

Before he could respond, the sound of footsteps approached. Hueningkai vanished into the shadows, leaving Y/N alone as Sunoo and the others burst into the clearing.

Sunoo, relief flooding his features, rushed to her side. "Y/N, are you alright? What did he tell you?"

Y/N recounted Hueningkai's explanation about the mist, the curse, and the need to confront the forest's heart. The group listened intently, each absorbing the gravity of their task.

Jay, his expression grim, said, "It seems we have our work cut out for us. Confronting the heart of the forest won't be easy."

Jaeyun added, "And we need to be prepared for whatever the forest throws at us. It will test us, play on our fears and weaknesses."

Jungwon, looking determined, said, "We'll need to strengthen our resolve. The forest can't break us if we stand together."

RiKi, his gaze fixed on the horizon, added, "We should start training, both mentally and physically. We need to be at our best when we face the forest's heart."

Sunghoon, nodding in agreement, said, "And we need to keep an eye on the brothers. They won't sit idly by while we attempt to break the curse."

The group gathered closer, their determination solidifying into a unified resolve. They knew the path ahead would be fraught with peril, but with each other's support, they had a chance to break the curse and restore balance to the forest.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest, Y/N and her allies prepared for the challenges ahead.

In the cold, dark halls of the castle, tension simmered like a storm about to break. Yeonjun, his frustration boiling over, stormed through the doors. His fixation on Y/N had grown into an obsession, driving him to the brink of madness.

Beomgyu, attempting to reach out, was sharply brushed aside, his complaint trailing off into a pout. "Yeonjun, just listen to me!" he whined, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Hueningkai, perched in a shadowy corner, observed the scene with a mixture of concern and contemplation. Taehyun, meanwhile, seemed indifferent, his true feelings obscured behind a veil of apathy.

Beomgyu, now slumping into a chair near Hueningkai, let out a long sigh. "I'm bored. I miss how things used to be with Yeonjun," he lamented.

His words sparked something in Hueningkai. "What did you just say?" Hueningkai asked, his interest piqued.

Beomgyu repeated himself, then added, "Yeonjun's obsession with that girl... it's not like her to be a bride, is it? If she were, she'd be here by now."

Hueningkai, leaning back thoughtfully, pretended to be oblivious to his earlier meeting with Y/N. "Maybe she's here for something else. Perhaps to break the curse we unleashed," he mused aloud, careful to mask his true intentions.

Beomgyu's eyes widened in alarm, and he gestured frantically for Hueningkai to be quiet. "We promised not to speak of that, especially not in front of Yeonjun. He'll lose it," Beomgyu hissed.

But it was too late. Yeonjun, having overheard their conversation, whirled around, his eyes blazing with fury. "What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

Taehyun and Soobin stopped what they were doing, turning their attention to the brewing argument. The air in the room grew thick with tension, a prelude to the storm about to erupt.

Hueningkai, undeterred, continued. "Breaking the curse... going back to the human world... wouldn't it be nice to be free again?"

Yeonjun's laughter cut through the room, a manic sound that sent shivers down everyone's spine. "And lose all this power? The magic we were given? You think I'd give that up for 'normality'?" he sneered.

Taehyun and Soobin remained silent, their expressions unreadable. While the thrill of the chase had its allure, the prospect of regaining their former lives wasn't without its appeal.

Yeonjun's gaze then fixed on Hueningkai, his eyes narrowing. He leaned in close, his voice laced with menace. "Did you help her escape that night, Hueningkai? Are you betraying your own brothers?"

Hueningkai met Yeonjun's gaze, his own expression a blend of defiance and sadness. "It's not about betrayal, Yeonjun. It's about what we lost. We've been consumed by this darkness for too long."

Yeonjun's face twisted with a mixture of anger and confusion. "We were given a gift, Hueningkai! Power, control over this forest. You want to throw that away for a return to obscurity?"

Beomgyu, breaking his silence, interjected, "But at what cost, Yeonjun? Look at us, look at what we've become. This isn't living; it's existing in a nightmare."

Taehyun, his voice calm but firm, added, "Yeonjun, we've been ruling a dead land. Our power is nothing but an illusion, a cage. Maybe it's time to let go."

Yeonjun's fury boiled over. "Let go? After everything we've been through? I won't let some girl and her allies destroy what we have!"

Soobin, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "We were not meant to live like this. This power has corrupted us, turned us into monsters. Maybe it's time to face the truth."

Yeonjun, feeling cornered and betrayed, let out a roar of frustration. "No! I refuse to give up what we've gained. I will find Y/N, and I will make her mine. None of you can stop me!"

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Beomgyu let out a long sigh. "What are we going to do?"

Hueningkai, looking at each of his brothers, said, "We need to make a choice. Either we continue down this path of darkness, or we help Y/N and her friends break the curse."

Taehyun, gazing out a window at the dark forest, replied, "I think we've already made our choice, whether we realized it or not."

Soobin nodded in agreement. "The question now is, how do we proceed?"

The brothers, united in their decision, began to plan their next move. In the bright light of a new day, Y/N, accompanied by Sunoo and the others, dedicated their time to uncovering the secrets of the forest. They delved deeper into Hueningkai's revelations - the mist, frost, the fortune teller, and the mysterious box. Despite their efforts, the answers they sought remained elusive, hidden within the enigmatic depths of the forest.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N decided to step out of the confines of the cottage for some fresh air. RiKi, ever watchful, followed her, ensuring she didn't wander too far. In a quiet, grassy spot, Y/N sat down, lost in thought, with RiKi settling beside her.

As Y/N's hands wandered into her pockets, she felt the familiar smooth surface of the red glass ball. Pulling it out, she turned it over in her hands, observing its peculiar beauty.

"What's that?" RiKi asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It's something I found in the library with the book," Y/N replied, still examining the ball. "I don't really know what it is."

RiKi carefully took the ball from her, inspecting it closely. "What happened when you first saw it in the library?"

Y/N recalled the moment vividly. "I saw the forest with a black, misty shadow in it. That's when the book fell at my feet."

"Have you tried looking into it since you've been here?" RiKi inquired.

"No, I didn't even realize I had it with me until recently," Y/N admitted.

RiKi suggested, "Maybe you should try looking into it now. See if it shows you anything."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then brought the ball close to her eye. Suddenly, the world shifted in her vision. The forest transformed into a street in the human world, and the distant castle took on the shape of a hospital. Shocked, she stood up abruptly, the ball still in her hand.

RiKi jumped up, concern etching his features. "What did you see?"

"It's... it was a street, and the castle was a hospital in the human world," Y/N explained, her mind racing with the implications.

RiKi, visibly anxious, rushed back to the cottage to inform the others. Y/N, curious, looked into the ball again, this time turning towards the cottage. The view shifted once more, revealing a building with the name 'HYBE' in the human world. The boys, emerging from the cottage, now appeared in normal human clothes.

Y/N pulled the ball away, and the illusion vanished, revealing the seven boys in their forest attire.

Heeseung approached her cautiously. "Are you sure about this? It could be dangerous."

Y/N, her determination unwavering, nodded. "I think I'm close to breaking this curse."

Together, they ventured back into the forest, the eerie sounds and unsettling atmosphere as pervasive as before. As they neared the castle, Y/N's eagerness to uncover the truth grew. Peering into the ball again, the hospital in the human world became clearer.

Sunghoon, intrigued by the ball's power, asked, "Is that like a window between our world and the human world?"

Y/N handed him the ball. "Take a look."

Sunghoon peered into the orb, but all he saw was a swirl of red. "It's just red for me," he said, perplexed. "It seems only you can see these visions."

As they drew closer to the castle, the tension among the group mounted. Suddenly, Yeonjun appeared, materializing directly in front of Y/N with a menacing grin. His eyes were wild, and he grabbed her waist tightly, pulling her close.

With a snap of his fingers, the seven boys were sent tumbling down the hill, separated from Y/N in an instant.

"Hello, my queen," Yeonjun said with a twisted smile, pulling Y/N into a deep, possessive kiss.

As their lips met, Yeonjun and Y/N vanished, teleported into the depths of the castle.

Back down the hill, the boys scrambled to their feet, disoriented and alarmed.

"Y/N!" Sunoo shouted, panic in his voice.

Heeseung, regaining his composure, said urgently, "We need to get to the castle. Now!"

The group, united in their resolve, raced toward the castle, their minds filled with worry for Y/N's safety.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Y/N found herself in an opulent, yet cold and dark room. Yeonjun's grip on her was unyielding, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and madness.

"Why are you doing this?" Y/N demanded, struggling to free herself.

Yeonjun's laugh echoed through the room. "You are the key, Y/N. The key to the power I crave, the control over this forest and beyond. With you by my side, nothing can stop me."

Outside the castle, the group approached, their determination fueled by concern for their friend. The castle loomed ominously, its dark walls a stark reminder of the danger that lay within.

As they prepared to enter, Jay spoke up. "We need a plan. We can't just barge in. Yeonjun is powerful, and he's unpredictable."

Sunoo, his eyes set on the towering structure, replied, "Our priority is to find Y/N and get her out safely. We'll need to be stealthy and smart about this."

In Yeonjun's bedroom, a tense and unsettling scene unfolded. Yeonjun, convinced that Y/N was now his, leaned in for another forceful, needy kiss. Y/N, trapped in his strong grip, struggled futilely to push him away. Just as the situation escalated, Soobin and Hueningkai burst into the room.

Yeonjun broke away from the kiss, his glare piercing as he turned to face the intruders. "What is it?" he snapped, irritation clear in his voice.

Soobin, his voice urgent, replied, "We need you, Yeonjun. It's important."

Yeonjun's attention still partly on Y/N, asked with a hint of annoyance, "Can it wait? I'm a bit occupied at the moment."

The desperation in Soobin's tone was evident. "No, it can't wait. It's about the forest."

Reluctantly, Yeonjun released Y/N and walked over to Soobin and Hueningkai. He eyed Hueningkai suspiciously. "You're coming with us," Yeonjun commanded. "I don't trust you alone with her."

Hueningkai followed behind, his steps slow. As he closed the door, a distinct locking sound echoed through the room, signaling Y/N's confinement.

Alone in the room, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the red glass ball, holding it close to her eye as she scanned the room. When her gaze fell upon the bed, she was met with a shocking sight.

Through the ball, she saw Yeonjun lying in a hospital bed, connected to life support, his body marred with cuts and bruises. She waved her hand over the bed, but she couldn't feel anything.

As she watched, Hueningkai and Taehyun appeared beside the bed in the vision, their expressions filled with concern and prayer. They spoke softly, and Y/N could faintly hear her name being mentioned before they left the room.

"This is more than a curse," Y/N murmured to herself, realization dawning on her. "It's a connection between this world and the human world."

The implications of her discovery were profound. Yeonjun and his brothers were not just bound to a magical curse but also linked to a reality in the human world, a reality where Y/N seemingly played a significant role.

Her mind racing, Y/N knew she needed more time to piece together the puzzle. Y/N settled into an armchair, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and revelations. The library where she had found the book and the glass ball was eerily empty, unnaturally so. The more she reflected on it, the more she started to question the reality of the library itself.

"Was any of that real?" she wondered aloud, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle.

As she pondered, exhaustion crept over her, and she felt herself drifting into a deep sleep.

Y/N awoke, but not in the dark, imposing room of the castle. Instead, she found herself in her apartment in the human world. The familiar sound of her alarm clock pulled her back to a reality that felt both distant and strangely comforting. It was another day at HYBE, working on her latest comeback, and she was eager to see Yeonjun and the other TXT members, especially since she hoped to confess her feelings to Yeonjun.

She prepared for the day and headed out, her first stop being her favorite coffee shop. With her usual order in hand, she made her way to the HYBE building. As she crossed the road with other pedestrians, a loud honk shattered the morning calm, followed by the screeching of tires, screams, and the horrific sound of a car crash.

In the chaos, Y/N saw the two cars – one with TXT. Yeonjun was unconscious at the wheel, and Soobin beside him, also out cold. The others were injured but awake. The other car, speeding and pursued by police, had collided with TXT's vehicle and by TxT's car was Y/N also unconscious and injured. It was a scene of devastation and despair.

This vision, unfolding before her eyes, brought a new understanding. Y/N realized the deeper connection between the two worlds. She woke up again, back in the castle, her heart pounding with the urgency of her revelation.

She rushed to the door, but it was still locked. Just as she was about to call out for help, the door opened, revealing Taehyun and Beomgyu.

"This place... it's not real," Y/N said breathlessly, meeting their surprised gazes. "None of this is real. We need to find Yeonjun. He needs to know the truth."

Taehyun and Beomgyu stepped into the room, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern.

"What do you mean it's not real?" Beomgyu asked, his brow furrowed.

Y/N quickly explained her vision, the connection she saw between their world and the human world, the accident, and the state of herself, Yeonjun and the others.

Taehyun, his eyes darkening with understanding, nodded slowly. "That explains a lot. The strange connection we feel to the human world, the echoes of something we can't quite grasp."

Beomgyu, his voice tinged with worry, added, "Yeonjun... he's lost in his own delusion. Breaking through to him will be dangerous."

Y/N, her determination unwavering, said, "We have to try. He, and all of us, are trapped in a lie. The real world, our real lives, they're waiting for us."

The three of them knew what had to be done. They needed to confront Yeonjun, to break the illusion that held him captive. It was a daunting task, especially given Yeonjun's descent into madness driven by the curse.

"We need a plan," Taehyun said, his voice steady. "Yeonjun won't easily accept the truth. His hold on this reality... it's strong."

Beomgyu paced the room, deep in thought. "If we can somehow show him what Y/N saw, make him see the connection to the human world, it might jolt him back to reality."

Y/N nodded. "The red glass ball. It showed me the truth. Maybe it can show him too."

"But how do we get him to look into the ball? He's not going to just listen to us," Beomgyu pointed out, his expression grim.

Taehyun's gaze fell on Y/N. "Yeonjun has a connection with you, Y/N. He might not listen to us, but he might listen to you."

Y/N, though apprehensive, knew he was right. "I'll do it. I have to."

The plan was risky, but it was their only chance. They waited for the right moment, for Yeonjun to return.

When Yeonjun finally re-entered the room, his eyes were wild, his demeanor more unhinged than ever. He immediately noticed Y/N holding the red glass ball.

"What's that?" Yeonjun asked, a hint of curiosity piercing through his madness.

Y/N took a deep breath. "It's a window to the truth, Yeonjun. The truth about this world, about us."

Yeonjun scoffed. "More lies? You think a trinket can change what I know to be true?"

"It's not a lie, Yeonjun. Look." Y/N extended the ball towards him. "See for yourself."

As Yeonjun peered into the red glass ball, the world around him transformed. In it, he saw himself in a hospital bed, surrounded by Beomgyu and the other boys. Beomgyu's voice faintly echoed, mentioning he was going to check on Y/N before leaving the room.

Images and memories flooded Yeonjun's mind – the car crash, the impact as he hit Y/N, the overwhelming fear and regret before slipping into unconsciousness. He realized that this forest, this entire world, was a construct of his subconscious, a dream born from his happiest moments mixed with his deepest fears and regrets.

Yeonjun turned to Y/N, tears streaming down his face. The weight of the revelation was almost too much to bear. "This... all of this was just a dream. I'm... we're in a coma," he stammered, his voice trembling.

Y/N looked at him with a mix of compassion and sadness. "It's time to wake up, Yeonjun. We can't stay here any longer."

As he struggled to come to terms with the truth, Yeonjun saw his 'brothers' – Taehyun, Beomgyu, Hueningkai, and Soobin – all dressed in white, resembling angels. It dawned on him that their bond was not of blood, but of brotherhood formed through their shared experiences as a group.

Yeonjun, still looking dark and demonic in contrast, confessed to Y/N, "I was going to tell you... in the real world... how I feel about you. I didn't want to lose you."

The darkness within him, fueled by his fears and desires, had twisted this world into a personal haven. But Y/N's presence, a reminder of reality, called to him.

Y/N gently took his hand. "We can be together, Yeonjun. But it has to be in the real world. Our families, friends, and your group members, they're all waiting for us to wake up."

The four boys stepped closer, echoing her sentiment. "We miss the human world, Yeonjun. We want to wake up, too," Hueningkai urged softly.

Yeonjun, his heart torn between the comfort of the dream and the call of reality, looked into Y/N's eyes. She whispered in his ear, words of love and promise, before pulling him into a tender, loving kiss – a kiss that belonged to the real world.

As they kissed, Yeonjun's appearance changed, shedding the darkness to match Y/N's angelic glow. The castle around them brightened, the colors vibrant and alive. Outside, the sun broke through the clouds, melting away the frost and revealing the forest's true beauty.

When they finally pulled apart, both Yeonjun and Y/N were dressed in white. As they stepped outside, they found themselves alone, the others vanished – a sign that they were on the brink of waking.

Y/N looked at Yeonjun, a sense of peace in her eyes. "It means we're waking up now," she said softly.

Yeonjun, a mix of fear and readiness in his eyes, nodded. "I hope we remember this, we wake and we remember the goal we had that day."

The forest around them began to glow, a warm, welcoming light enveloping them as everything started to fade to black. Yeonjun grasped Y/N's hand tighter, as if to anchor himself to her.

"I hope so too," Y/N replied, her voice a whisper in the encroaching darkness. "I want to remember every moment, every feeling."

As the light grew brighter, enveloping them in its warmth, Yeonjun felt a sense of release. The burdens of the dream world, the fear, and the darkness that had consumed him were lifting, replaced by a feeling of hope and anticipation for what lay ahead.

"See you on the other side, Y/N," Yeonjun said, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

"See you there, Yeonjun," Y/N responded, her heart filled with a mix of sadness and joy for the end of their dream and the beginning of a new reality.

The light reached its peak, turning their surroundings into a blinding white. The last thing Yeonjun felt was Y/N's hand in his, a comforting presence as they stepped together into the unknown.

Then, there was silence, a peaceful void as they drifted away from the dream world and toward awakening.

In the softly lit hospital room, Yeonjun's eyes gradually opened, bringing him back to reality. His mind was awash with the remnants of a vivid dream. Turning his head, he looked around, half-expecting to see Y/N, hoping she too had escaped the dream and remembered it.

Hueningkai was there by his side, his face lighting up with joy and relief. "Yeonjun, you're awake! How do you feel?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Yeonjun's voice was hoarse, a side effect of his long slumber. "Disoriented... How long have I been out?" he managed to ask.

"You've been in a coma for two months," Hueningkai replied, his tone gentle but serious.

Yeonjun, still processing this, felt a pressing need to share his dream. "Hueningkai, I had this intense dream. We were in a forest, and there was this darkness... it consumed us, made us evil. And Y/N was there too," he said, eager to share the details before they faded.

As he recounted his dream, Beomgyu and Soobin entered the room. Their faces immediately brightened upon seeing Yeonjun awake, and they hurried over to embrace him.

After a moment of reunion, Yeonjun's thoughts returned to Y/N. "Has Y/N woken up? Is she here?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Beomgyu's smile faded as he exchanged a glance with Soobin. "We just came from her room," Soobin said softly. "She's still in a coma, Yeonjun."

Yeonjun felt a pang of despair. In the dream, he and Y/N had promised to wake up together. The realization that she was still trapped in her own unconsciousness weighed heavily on him.

Hueningkai, noticing Yeonjun's distress, offered comforting words. "We've got to stay hopeful, Yeonjun. She's strong. She'll pull through."

Yeonjun, his resolve strengthened by Hueningkai's words, said, "I want to see her. Maybe if she hears our voices, she might find her way back."

The group agreed, and together they made their way to Y/N's hospital room. Standing around her bed, they took turns speaking to her, their voices filled with encouragement and hope.

Yeonjun took Y/N's hand gently. "Y/N, we're all here, waiting for you. You're not alone. Please come back to us," he whispered.

In the serene hospital room, where the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitors, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Hueningkai, and Soobin maintained their watchful presence by Y/N's bedside. Yeonjun, holding Y/N's hand gently, continued to speak to her, his voice soft yet filled with emotion.

"I'm sorry for everything that happened in the dream," Yeonjun whispered to Y/N. "The darkness... it took over me, made me possessive, obsessive. It wasn't really me."

Beomgyu, Hueningkai, and Soobin exchanged glances, a mixture of confusion and concern in their eyes. They hadn't experienced the dream, but they understood that Yeonjun and Y/N must have shared a profound connection within it.

Yeonjun continued, his words tinged with regret and hope. "I confessed to you in that dream. We promised we would wake up together and be together in this real world, remember?"

Beomgyu leaned in closer, his voice gentle. "Yeonjun, what was this dream about? You keep mentioning a darkness."

Yeonjun turned to his friends, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness. "It was like another world, a forest where we were different, changed by some evil force. But Y/N was there too. She helped me see through the darkness."

Hueningkai added softly, "It sounds like it was a really intense experience for you."

Soobin, looking at Y/N, said, "It must have been the same for her. Maybe that's why she's still... here."

Yeonjun nodded, squeezing Y/N's hand a little tighter. "We made it through that darkness together in the dream. Now, we need to do it again, here, in the real world."

Back in the library of her dream, Y/N sat alone amidst the towering shelves of books. The book was now complete and the silence was oppressive, mirroring the loneliness that had always lurked in the corners of her real life. Despite being surrounded by people, a sense of isolation clung to her, a feeling she couldn't shake off.

"Why am I still here?" Y/N murmured to herself, her voice echoing slightly in the vast, empty space. "Why can't I wake up?" Her thoughts turned to Yeonjun, to their promise in the dream, and to the confession she never got to make.

As she sat there, lost in thought, a faint sound began to penetrate the silence. It was Yeonjun's voice, distant but unmistakable. He was speaking about the good times they had before the accident, the laughter, the shared moments. His voice was filled with longing and sadness.

Y/N strained to listen, the sound of Yeonjun's voice bringing a mixture of comfort and sorrow. She heard him speak of the dream, of their promise to wake up together. His voice cracked as he spoke of the accident, of his fear of losing her, and his misplaced guilt.

"It wasn't your fault, Yeonjun," Y/N whispered to the empty library, her voice laced with tears. "It wasn't."

With a heavy heart, Y/N stood up and walked towards the library doors, Yeonjun's voice growing louder with each step. She reached the doors, hesitating for a moment before pushing them open. A blinding light greeted her, enveloping her in its warmth.

Back in the hospital room, Yeonjun sat by Y/N's bedside, speaking to her unconscious form. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could have protected you. I wish..." His voice broke as tears streamed down his face.

At that moment, Y/N's eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was Yeonjun, his face etched with pain and relief.

"Yeonjun?" Y/N's voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

Yeonjun's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y/N! You're awake! Oh, God, you're awake!"

Y/N blinked slowly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. "I heard you," she said softly. "In the library... I heard everything."

Yeonjun took her hand gently, his tears falling onto their intertwined fingers. "I thought I lost you. I... I've been so scared."

Y/N offered him a faint smile, despite the weariness that clouded her eyes. "We promised we would wake up together. And here we are."

In the quiet of the room, their shared experience in the dream, the fears, and the unspoken emotions hung heavily between them. It was a moment of profound connection—a realization of the depth of their bond, forged in the dream and now carried into the waking world.

Beomgyu wiped away his own tears, added, "We all were worried. It's been tough without you."

Soobin's voice barely above a whisper, said, "We didn't know if you'd ever wake up."

The room was filled with a profound sense of unity and relief. Each member of the group was silently processing the emotional weight of the moment, grateful for Y/N's return yet aware of how close they had come to losing her. As Yeonjun leaned down to kiss Y/N, their moment was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. The doctor, a bit taken aback to see Yeonjun out of his own room and in Y/N's, showed a mix of annoyance and relief.

"Yeonjun, you should be in your own room," the doctor chided gently, though a smile hinted at the corners of his mouth. "It's good to see you both up, but we need to follow procedures."

Yeonjun, reluctant to leave Y/N's side, gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, though his face betrayed his reluctance to part, even for a short while.

Y/N chuckled at Yeonjun's obvious pout. "Go, Yeonjun. The sooner you get your check-up, the sooner you can come back," she encouraged him.

Once Yeonjun had reluctantly left with the doctor, the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional beeping of the monitors.

A day later, both Yeonjun and Y/N were cleared to leave the hospital. The news of their recovery and the accident that led to their comas had filled the internet, with fans and media eagerly discussing their return to the music industry.

During their stay at the hospital, members of ENHYPEN had been regular visitors, offering support and companionship. Their presence had been a source of comfort for both Yeonjun and Y/N during their cons and recovery.

Upon their return to the HYBE building, they were greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by staff and fellow idols. From members of NewJeans to Seventeen, everyone expressed their happiness at seeing Yeonjun and Y/N back and healthy.

Yeonjun and Y/N walked hand in hand through the building, finally together as they had promised in their shared dream. The experience had brought them closer, solidifying a bond that had been formed under the most unusual and challenging circumstances.

The other four members of TXT followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of gratitude and relief. They too had been profoundly affected by the car accident and the subsequent recovery period.

"So, how does it feel to be back?" Hueningkai asked Yeonjun and Y/N, his voice light but filled with genuine curiosity.

Yeonjun glanced at Y/N, then back at Hueningkai. "It feels surreal, but in a good way. Like we've been given a second chance."

"It's overwhelming, but I'm grateful. Grateful for everyone's support and for being here with all of you." Y/N nodded in agreement.

"It's like we've all been through a storm together and came out stronger on the other side." Beomgyu chimed in.

"Yeah, it puts things into perspective. Makes you appreciate every moment." Soobin added.

Yeonjun, holding Y/N's hand, felt the lingering presence of the dream's darkness. It was a personal battle, a remnant of the frost that he alone had experienced. "It's still there, you know," he said softly. "The must from the dream. Sometimes, it feels like it's trying to come back."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "But it's not the same, Yeonjun. You're not alone in this and the crash wasn't your fault. We can help keep it away."

Hueningkai, walking beside them, glanced at Yeonjun with concern. "You went through something intense, Yeonjun. But we've got your back, always."

"We might not have been there in your dream, but we're here now. That darkness doesn't stand a chance against all of us." Beomgyu added.

The group continued down the corridor, a renewed sense of camaraderie binding them together. Yeonjun, buoyed by the support of his friends and Y/N, felt a glimmer of hope. The frost from the dream, though a part of his past, would not define his future.

With each step, Yeonjun felt the weight of the darkness lessen. The laughter and conversation of his friends and Y/N acted as a light, pushing back against the shadows of his dream. Together, they moved forward, leaving the remnants of the dark frost behind, stepping into a future where hope, love and friendship reigned.

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