#would be so interested in her part of this au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kasagia · 2 days

Text

Dancing with the devil II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: The Na-Baron's birthday celebration on Giedi Prime at the beginning of the season makes you realise just how much work you'll have to put into becoming Empress—and even more into avoiding Harkonnen, who's showing you way too much attention. This is something that your almost-fiance definitely shouldn't like, and something that he doesn't notice. After all, there's little you can see in the darkness of Giedi Prime. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

"Smile. And powder yourself. You look pale, as if we were going there for a beheading and not a ball." Your mother says, adjusting the position of the grid of diamonds decorating your head. You flinch as you feel the cool metal of the gems brush against your cheek.

The damn thing was heavy, but nice. You remember perfectly how Lord Luwael's eyes lit up when he saw you wearing a similar ornament in your hair.

"In a way it is. First we will see the fight in the arena." You are sceptical of what comes next when your ship lands on Giedi Prime. You didn't like this place. It was black and white, barren, devoid of life and any moral principles. It was therefore an ideal place for gossip to arise - especially the spicy ones.

Besides, your... last encounter with Na-Baron was still fresh in your memory. Especially in dreams. On those terrible nights, you dreamed about how, in the darkness of your gardens and under the moonlight, you allowed him to do... more wicked things. Things that even husbands and wives shouldn't do behind their chambers' doors. And as much as you felt aroused after every dream like this, you were also disgusted with yourself and hated the Na-Baron even more for your little fantasies.

This helped immensely when it came to increasing motivation to win the emperor's cousin's heart, but no amount of flirting with him helped you forget the touch of a certain Harkonnen. You found it very interesting. And you hoped that after fighting in the arena, your body would adopt the same attitude towards him as your brain. He was dangerous and should have been avoided by you at all costs, and yet, in every fantasy about him, you enjoyed his burning touch more than the previous ones and wanted much more to happen between you two.

"Better for you. Half of these charpies in silks and sparkles will faint and never set foot in a ballroom. Take this opportunity and stick to the arm of the emperor's cousin." She advises you, licking her finger and twisting a lock of your hair so it rests unruly against your temple and falls onto your cheek.

"Lord Luwael wrote to me all summer. Besides, you saw for yourself that he visited our planet several times."

"It does not mean anything. He could only be bored, so he flew around the planets looking for entertainment. You have to charm him, Y/N. Drive him crazy with a... desire for you so great that he will do anything to have you—only then will he propose to you. It's still a miracle that he looked at you, since we come from a worse dynasty than him." He reminds you dryly, and you press your lips into a thin line. He doesn't wait for your answer. She leaves your room, clearly expecting you to follow her, when the ship announces that you are about to land.

You take a shaky breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your home-coloured dress hugged your curves perfectly, showing off the best of your figure, and your makeup highlighted your cheekbones and gave your eyes depth. All of this made you an irresistible sight. Lord Luwael would have to be blind not to appreciate your beauty. You will leave Giedi Prime with a ring on your finger or on the ship of the emperor's cousin. You did not see any other possibility, nor did you want to allow something other to happen.

You put on your soft, genuine smile and leave the room to join your mother on the exit ramp. Moments later, the ramp descends, revealing the black sun of Giedi Prime. You frown and squint as you adjust to the atmosphere on the planet. Your mother and you come down to earth. As soon as you can see beyond the patch of land in front of you, you shiver as you notice the Na-Baron waiting near your ship. You feel your anxiety and nervousness rising inside you, but you try your hardest to maintain your polite smile.

"Viscountess Y/L/N. Lady Y/L/N." He greets you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. You try to control your breathing and heartbeat, as panic is rising within you.

He looks... even more intimidating than on your home planet. That night, his mask had covered practically his entire face, but now you could see him in all his glory. And damn you, because those tempting lips he had weren't the only advantage of his appearance.

His face looked as if thousands of painters had worked on it, as if it had been lifted from ancient paintings depicting beautiful demons tempting people to damnation. And, oh, what a handsome devil he was. If you believed in an afterlife, you would wonder if he escaped from hell to lead people into temptation.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would recognise you. Does he know that it was you who went with him to the garden a few months ago? You try to read some reaction from his face, but he maintains an emotionless, composed demeanour as he looks at you and your mother.

"Na-Baron. It's a great honour to be here to celebrate your birthday. May fate always be in your favour." She greets him kindly. You shiver in relief as he thankfully doesn't pay much attention to you as his gaze comes back to your mother.

"I hope it will. The maids will show you the way to the guest wing and your chambers. All celebrations will take place tomorrow. I hope that you will soon get used to the atmospheric conditions in Giedi Prime. Until then." He nods at the maids standing behind him. Bald women come up to you and hand you tiny baskets. "Our guests find it quite useful."

You look at the things in the basket; your attention is caught by sunglasses with black lenses and a strange coat. Your mother reaches for her coat and, with practiced skill, slips it gracefully over herself, along with her glasses, as you stare unsteadily at the strange fabric.

"Lady Y/L/N. May I?" Na-Baron asks. However, he doesn't wait for your answer.

He comes closer to you, takes your cloak from the basket, and hands it to your servants. He wraps the coat around you, adjusting it to your figure and making sure to cover all of your exposed skin.

"We Harkonnens have a special pigment in our skin to prevent the carcinogenic effects of sunlight and burns from long-term exposure. You must remember to wear this coat outside to avoid any diseases, Lady Y/L/N." He says, standing behind you and tying the fabric of your coat together. He uncovers your face for a moment and puts on your sunglasses. "Nor your beautiful eyes to be damaged." He whispers, so only you can hear him.

You shiver, staring at him blankly, glad that your sunglasses allow you the convenience of hiding your eyes from him and whatever you're focused on.

Was it possible that he recognised you? Was he giving you a hint that he knew you were his white swan? NO. Impossible. He probably flirted with every single woman who came to Giedi Prime. After all, he was going to find a wife this season. He had to show his softer side and hide Giedi Prime's brutality from the naive noblewomen so that some stupid and naive one would marry him.

"We thank you very much for your kindness, Na-Baron." Your mother speaks for you, obviously angry that you haven't spoken up for yourself. You just nod, shifting your gaze to the castle behind him, trying to escape his watchful, searching gaze for a moment.

"Your welcome." He responds with a nod to your mother.

He takes your hand in his, making you tense slightly as he leans down and presses a short kiss on it. A shiver runs through you as you feel the shape of his lips through your gloves, and your mind automatically recalls the memory of that night. You smile at him politely and quickly join your mother's side, leaving Na-Baron on the ramp as another ship arrives.

"Do not act like that. Don't show that you're afraid of them. And be careful. It's very common for people here to disappear after showing disrespect to the Na-Baron. You know how, right?" She whispers furiously to you as you are led inside the palace by the maids.

"I... I know. I'm sorry." You say this thoughtfully, turning discreetly over your shoulder to watch him greet the other noble families. This time, he doesn't kiss anyone's hand or help anyone put on their protective cloak. You shake your head. He probably saw that you weren't engaged to anyone yet, and that's why you got... special treatment from him.

"Just don't act like a scared mouse. I raised you better."

Right. Your mother raised you better. That's why you shouldn't have disappeared into the garden with this mysterious stranger from the very beginning. It would save you a headache now that wasn't caused by the oppressive atmosphere on Giedi Prime. You just wanted this season to end as soon as possible. Preferably your marriage.

You walk hand in hand with Lady Y/F/N towards the arena, gossiping about what happened since last night. The Giedi Prime sun is somehow more bearable today; you don't know if it's because of the items given by Na-Baron or because the weather was exceptionally not as cruel as the day you arrived, but you feel much better. (Or maybe it was because you didn't see Na-Baron Harkonnen today.)

"I tell you, Princess Irulan was furious. I heard she destroyed her room, and the maids worked all night to get it back in order. Do you think it's possible? That the Emperor wants to marry her off to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha?"

"Possible. It wouldn't be a stupid move. After all, Irulan cannot become emperor. She may be the firstborn, but she has no right to rule. It is logical that her father wants to marry her off to the second-best possible party, of course, when it comes to financial and political issues."

"Second best? Who's first?" You just smile at her question, watching the other noblewomen and their families walk towards the arena.

"Of course, as a woman in love, I must say that Lord Luwael."

"Has someone talked about me?"

A faint blush appears on your cheeks. You and Y/F/N turn around to see a smug Lord. You give him an equally mischievous smirk and curtsy, grabbing the arm he offered you.

"I do not think so. You must have misheard, Lord Luawel. Maybe it's the sun of Giedi Prime that bothers you so much that you lose your hearing?" You tease him as the three of you enter the arena.

"Lady Y/N, you don't have to worry about me so much, as sweet as that is. Fortunately, I don't need as much protection as you ladies do. However, I must admit that Giedi Prime is a terrible place. It does not allow you to see the natural beauty of certain things, taking away their colours."

"Maybe there's something… positive to be found here?" Y/F/N asks hesitantly as you pass a group of Harkonnens heading to the arena. The men say something in their harsh, unpleasant language that makes you shiver. You are only further insisting that there is nothing good to find on Giedi Prime.

"Positive? With all due respect, Lady Y/F/N, the Harkonnens have destroyed everything beautiful that could be left on this planet. Including their appearance and behavior." You giggle, careful not to let anyone else but the three of you hear you. But you wonder why your friend's attitude is so... sullen. She plays with her glove nervously as her eyes fall on the baron's older nephew, Rabban. "I don't know who is worse, him or his younger psychopathic brother."

"I think both of them are equal in their madness." You comment, agreeing with Lord Luwael.

Your eyes involuntarily land on Na-Baron, who exchanges a few words with one of his servants. You shiver when his eyes find yours—as if he has a special detector that makes him aware every time someone's eyes linger on him for too long.

He nods to you, looking at you carefully and examining your dress. His lips twitch into a smile when he sees you're wearing the coat he helped you adjust to your figure yesterday. You quickly turn your head towards Lord Luwael and give him one of your practiced, beautiful smiles.

"I… I'm sorry. I should join my family. Lord Luwael. Lady Y/N."

You frown, watching her walk away like a beaten puppy. You decide to question her about her strange behavior later in the evening. Now you had to focus on your lord.

"And you, lady? Are your wonderful mother and father with you?" Lord Luwael asks, placing his hand on top of yours after managing to penetrate the layers of material protecting your skin. He acts as if he wants to pull you much closer to him.

You feel the skin of your hand burn where it touches his, but unfortunately, not from... the excitement of this tiny, forbidden contact. Someone's eyes are watching you carefully, but you are too afraid to look towards Na-Baron to confirm that it is his irises that are staring hatefully at your joined hands.

"My mother had a headache, so she staid in her chamber. Unfortunately, my father couldn't show up at all. I hope you won't abandon me and leave me so lonely in this barbaric place, my lord?"

"I wouldn't dare do that. I am a gentleman. After all, someone has to catch you if you faint, my lady."

You smile sweetly at him, ignoring the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch for his words. You must maintain the innocent demeanour of a cute, awkward, and sweet noblewoman. Even though you hated it...

"Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate it, my lord." You say, wondering if you should actually pretend to faint and let him catch you. It would be very romantic if he carried you out of the arena in his arms and took you to the medic. Plus, you wouldn't have to watch... Na-Baron's entire performance.

You take your seat in the guest box. The arena shakes with the screams and applause of people who are truly eager for their Na-Baron to shed blood. Lord Luwael hands you the binoculars and gently removes your cloak as you both notice that you are protected from the sun's rays by a special black glass window.

You shiver as the Harkonnen's war drums sound and the announcer says something in their language, announcing Feyd-Rautha's fight.

A blush involuntarily blooms on your cheeks when you see that Na-Baron has decided to fight without a shirt or any armour protecting his chest. You hungrily stare at his muscular torso as he shows off his warrior body, which is decorated with paint—probably their war symbols, bringing good luck in battle.

"A real poseur and playboy. He only does it to attract attention."

"Probably. But you can't say, that it doesn't work, my lord." You say and nod towards the other ladies, who are also staring at the muscular figure of a warrior that Na-Baron proudly displays.

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm just a woman. But I prefer… slightly more hairy men." Lord Luwael chuckles at your comment, giving you a mischievous look. His attention briefly returns to Na-Baron, who lets out a belligerent cry after the murder of the first prisoner. You see him shiver slightly and his eyebrows furrow before his attention returns to you.

"So would I also gain your attention if I appeared… in a similar condition?"

"My lord, you would then have my complete undivided attention." You respond equally flirtatiously. The man sitting next to you hums in appreciation. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he stares at you, entranced.

"You, lady, have my undivided attention at all times and occupy my every thought." Unfortunately, you can't respond to his comment with something as sweet as Na-Baron's angry, painful scream that echoes from the arena.

Your attention returns to the fight. Na-Baron fights the last opponent, who, surprisingly, is not under the influence of drugs. You watch the fight with curiosity, even more so when you see blood pouring from Na-Baron's side.

"He had to distract himself. So far, he hasn't had any problems fighting him." You hear people commenting around you, but your eyes are focused only on Na-Baron.

You shiver as his gaze wanders towards your box, and it feels like he's looking right at you, making sure you're watching him. You put this idea out of your head. He probably didn't even know your name. He couldn't recognise you; he would definitely show it by now if he did.

You shiver as he lets out a menacing scream and charges at his opponent. His movements are quick, well-aimed and aimed as he delivers slashes, perfectly avoiding the blade of the prisoner he is fighting. You hold your breath as he knocks the blade out of your opponent's hands and stabs him in the stomach several times.

Na-Baron whispers something to the warrior and slowly lowers him to the ground as he draws his last breath. You can't take your eyes off his bloody form. His piercing gaze is still directed towards your lodge as he raises his blade. The crowd in the arena screams, people applaud, and you feel Lord Luwael next to you slowly begin to fall to the ground.

"Lord Luwael!" You scream, attracting the attention of the people around you. Several men help you, and they lift the unconscious lord. They carry him outside, and you want to follow them, but unfortunately for you, the second round of Na-Baron's fight begins, so you can't just leave. So you go back to your seat, thinking hard.

Lord Luwael apparently had another negative trait besides being a hopeless romantic—a firm believer in preserving a strictly traditional, patriarchal system. He fainted at the sight of blood and abhorred violence.

You sigh, wondering how the hell you're supposed to cope with a husband and an emperor who's afraid to draw someone's blood and pick up a sword.

Your gaze falls back on the fighting Na-Baron. If only he was less... Harkonnen... You shake your head at the idea that crossed your mind. No. You are going to become the empress. Nothing could change that plan, and certainly not one night of oblivion and pleasure with a brutal, psychopathic future Baron of a dead planet.

But that doesn't stop you from admiring the way Na-Baron's muscular chest ripples with each rapid breath or the way his muscles twitch with his movements. And unfortunately, you can't stop your thoughts from wandering and imagining him moving into a much more... intimate situation.

"Did she watch the fight?" Feyd asks his servant as the medic stitches up his wound.

He finished the fight a few minutes ago. People were probably starting to gather in the ballroom, but he had to clean up and put things in order before he appeared in public. Before he shows himself to you.

"At first, she was a little distracted by this... lord. But he fainted halfway through Na-Baron's fight, so afterwards her attention was entirely on you, my lord."

"He fainted? Weak spawn. Did she enjoy my performance?" Feyd asks, slightly irritated by the way the medic's fingers are shaking with fear as he tends to the wound.

"She was definitely impressed. I think Na-Baron's decision not to wear the breastplate helped, as did the fact that the guards made sure not to let Lord Luwael into the arena again."

"Very good, you did a great job. Keep it up. I'm going to need you to distract that pet of hers for a while. You can do it, right?"

"Of course, my lord Na-Baron."

"Women like flowers. Those outside Giedi Prime." The medic comments as he finishes stitching up his wound. Feyd looks at him for a moment, then nods at his servant.

"This is a wonderful idea. Order a vase of the rarest flower species to be placed in her chambers. I'll give you a note tonight, after the ball."

Before Feyd finishes his sentence, he already holds the medic's arm and plunges a dagger into his stomach. The man groans in shock as he stares in sheer terror at the Na-Baron.

"Because of you, I'll be late for my own ball." He growls and puts on a black shirt, ignoring the blood on his fingers as he walks out of the infirmary.

He walks through the halls of the palace, hurrying to his chambers to change. His thoughts involuntarily go to you, remembering your intoxicating scent and the softness of your skin under his lips. Damn him if he lets some lesser man have the taste of what is his.

You belonged to him from the moment he killed for you the emperor's dog that tried to bite you. If necessary, he will kill another one to make sure that no man will dare to adore you again.

But Feyd couldn't do it; as much as he dreamed of it, he preferred to gain your... feelings rather than force you to marry him. And maybe he enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, but only as long as his claims for you weren't at risk. And this little... lord was hanging around way too close to you.

He didn't know at all what you saw in this weak man. He wasn't handsome, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't defend you. Certainly not before Feyd. You needed someone strong—someone who wasn't afraid of your true nature or unleashing it. You weren't yourself hanging out with that lord. He watched the two of you closely, and countless times he saw you tighten your hand around a glass, a fan, or in a fist when that lord made a remark that irritated you, but instead of snapping back like you did with Feyd, you smiled falsely sweetly and nodded obediently.

His beautiful, brave swan, instead of hissing at the fools around her, only tried harder to attract them. And this annoyed Feyd immensely. You could be so much more than just a pretty face. You had a character that Feyd admired in you, but instead of showing it with pride, you hid it deep inside, afraid of society's opinion.

You would make a wonderful Baroness. With you by his side, he wouldn't worry about anyone seeing him as weak man. And he himself found worthy company in you during that wonderful night on your planet. If only you hadn't run away from him, hadn't believed the rumours so much, and weren't afraid of him, but rather of what he might do to you, you and Feyd would make a wonderful match.

As he approaches his chamber, he hears the ladies giggling. He decides to hide in a side corridor and wait until the gossiping women leave. But he perks up his ear excitedly when he hears what they're talking about—and that you're among them too.

"Na-Baron put on quite a show. Have you seen these muscles?" Feyd can barely keep from giggling. But he can't help but wonder how you assessed his... muscles.

He did it especially for you—to tease you a little with what you could have had that night if you hadn't run away from him like a scared little mouse. How many nights did he spend dreaming about catching you before that frail lord got you...

"Oh please. He's a cruel brute. Psychopath. Did you see how he treated that poor man? Moreover, most of his opponents were under the influence of drugs."

His hairless eyebrows furrow. He feels his rage rising; he wants to come out of his hiding place and show this royal bitch a real fight, but he knows that his uncle will kill him for laying a hand on the emperor's daughter.

"I'm not surprised at him. After all, he's the next Baron, they won't risk his life for some lame arena show."

"What do you think about it, Lady Y/N?"

Feyd licks his lips, eagerly waiting for your opinion on his fight. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you will say. Will you praise his fighting skills? Appearance? Ruthlessness and brutality? Or maybe you loathe it as much as Princess Irulan does?

He waited nervously, his heart beating fast as he waited impatiently for even one word from you.

"I… think we had a rather… interesting fight anyway. Regardless of the circumstances."

His excitement fades when you limit yourself to such a simple, diplomatic, and natural answer. He doesn't want to hear something like that from you. He wants your opinion; he wants to hear the burning heat in your voice as you express your true thoughts and emotions with great conviction, even if they go against what he wants. He wants your passion—the same passion he has experienced the few times he has had the opportunity to be around you.

"But it's not honorable! How dare they treat prisoners like this?" Irulan growls furiously at you.

"And in your country, how are they treated, my princess? They either end up in a noose or have their heads cut off. Here, maybe being under the influence of drugs isn't the best thing, but at least they have a dignified death for warriors—those who don't fight Na-Baron are fighting in the arena for their freedom and are not under the influence of any substance. I don't think this is the case in many countries. Besides, it boosts morale and entertains the people. Two birds with one stone."

Feyd feels a smirk involuntarily form on his lips. He knew that his little, wise swan would think just like he did. However, I regret that you do not praise his skills as a warrior but only focus on the usefulness of such fights. Next time, he will try harder for you. Maybe he will even give you the heart of the strongest warrior?

"Of course you'll flatter him, Lady Y/N. After all, he clearly has his eyes on you. I saw the way he looked at you the day you arrived—it was clearly love at first sight."

"Oh yes! And I saw him looking across the arena towards your box! He got so distracted by looking at you that one of the prisoners stabbed him in the side! It's so sweet, just like a real romance book."

Feyd freezes for a moment. Was it that obvious? He couldn't, right? Maybe he was accidentally looking for you in the crowd of other people, but... he couldn't be that easy to read, right?

"I would never dream of courting Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, not even in your wildest fantasies my ladies. So maybe let's focus on the real, more likely matches that could happen this season."

At your words, Feyd clenches his hands into fists. How dare you so openly reject his possible advances? It was the best match in the empire. In fact, he could be a future emperor, and he'd damn well do it for you if that was all it took to get his hand in marriage. Seething with rage, his hand involuntarily went to the blade attached to his side. He had to find someone; he had to take it out on someone; but then again, he needed to hear more. Why does the thought that he adores you bother you so much? Did he do something to you? Has he offended you in any way? Was it your reluctance and disgust at the idea of having him as a suitor just because he was a Harkonnen?

"You mean your questionable engagement to my cousin?" Princess Irulan mocks you, fueling Feyd's anger both with the way she speaks to you and with your engagement to that weak piece of flesh wasting air in your presence.

"Why questionable, my princess? I think this would be the perfect match. Lady Whistledown herself devoted several of her paragraphs to it."

Feyd rolls his eyes at you. Have you also read the nonsense of some old lady who was bored enough to comment on events in the world of noble families? And here he thought that his swan was too smart for that...

"My cousin may be stupid and be fooled by a few pretty words and eyes, but he doesn't make rash decisions. He knows what kind of marriage will be best for him. He won't marry someone from a lesser family just because some anonymous writer is having fun spreading rumors."

"Do you have someone special for Lord Luwael in your mind, maybe?"

"I think we all know very well who I mean."

Feyd smiles, and for the first time, he is not hating the princess's existence. If she actually took this weak lord from you, the fight for your hand and heart would be much more enjoyable for him; after all, he wouldn't have to worry that you would marry some other man while he was trying his best to get closer to you. It would definitely make courting you easier if Irulan tried to charm your weak little lord...

"Hmm… possible. But tell us, princess, how's your Bene Gesserit training going? Has the Reverend Mother assigned you any task yet?"

"I believe this is none of your business."

Ah, so you knew. You knew that the Bene Gesserit were planning to marry him to Irulan—something he certainly wouldn't allow. But if he lets you believe it, would you fight for him? Would you try to convince him to stop chasing Irulan? You could. After all, you would see it as a threat to your position as empress. Feyd is curious what lengths you would go to if such a situation occurred—how far would you go in trying to seduce him and leave Irulan?

Feyd is no longer eavesdropping on the rest of your conversation. You pass him, and he quickly sneaks back to his chambers, changing his clothes. His mind races as he wonders what he should do now. And he decides to give you one last chance before he puts his plan into action.

The balls at Gieid Prime are… different from those you usually witness. The ballroom is lit by a thousand candles, the room is kept in semi-darkness, and you are more than convinced that some orgy is taking place somewhere in the corners and recesses of this huge hall.

You are just finishing your dance with Lord Luwael when Feyd-Rautha enters the hall. Na-Baron is greeted with loud applause and cheers. He smiles at the crowd of people, showing a row of night-black teeth. You shiver at the sight. You just don't know if it's out of fear or desire. You realise that every time you think he can't make himself a more terrible monster, he comes in like the bane of your existence and proves you dead wrong.

Oh how you wanted to finally leave Giedi Prime.

"Unfortunately, I think we should wish him a happy birthday. Everyone does it."

You nod at his words, seeing the rest of the guests actually gather around Feyd-Rautha. You place your hand in the crook of his arm and let him guide you towards Na-Baron. The alcohol you managed to drink without your companion's attention and the man's mere presence will give you a bit of courage. Although you know, if a real fight broke out between these two men, the candidate for your husband would probably faint from fear when he saw the first blood and lose it. What a pity he had such an annoying condition...

"Na-Baron. Happy birthday." Your companion says as you reach Feyda-Rautha. His blue, ocean-glacial eyes stare at the two of you, ignoring you for a moment to send an appraising glance towards the man whose arm you're holding. You see a strange tension building in the room between these two...

"Thank you very much, lord…"

"Luwael." He finishes for him, angry that he is not properly recognised and acknowledged by the Na-Baron.

"Ah yes. It slipped out of my mind. Wouldn't you be offended if I took the liberty of asking your lovely partner to dance? It's my birthday, after all." Na-Baron's attention is completely on you, and you wish he and Lord Luwael had spent more time on this little alpha male fight. You open your mouth, ready with an excuse to deny him the dance, but the man next to you speaks first.

"Of course. Enjoy yourself." Na-Baron gives him a smug smirk that only widens when Lord Luwael flinches at Feyd's black teeth.

You suppress a grimace and give your hand to the Harkonnen. He takes your hand with incredible gentleness and leads you to the centre of the room, right onto the dance floor. Before the dancing starts, he has the courage to take off your gloves. You give him a confused look, your heart beating faster, as he leans in to press a kiss on your hand. You shiver as the skin of your hand registers the now familiar shape of his plump lips.

He places his hand on your waist and connects your hand with his, leading you to the rhythm of a rather calm song.

"Such fire… and yet your anger does not reach Lord Luwael. What did he do to deserve this special treatment, my lady? Maybe you're worried about him after he fainted in the arena like some weak, little boy?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You say, turning your gaze away from him, wanting to spend the rest of the dance in silence. You keep your eyes peeled for Lord Luwael, but unfortunately, you can't find him anywhere. As if he had evaporated.

"Is it so, little swan?" A cold chill runs through you as you use the nickname for you that he used that night. You feel your world freeze for a moment. He continues to lead you in the rhythm of the dance, allowing himself to pull you a little closer to inhale the scent of your perfume, but you don't notice, terrified of what he told you he knew.

"I... no." You blurt out, trying to control your emotions, and put on the mask of indifference on your face again.

"Well... I guess you know. Your heart beats so fast, almost as fast as that night when I tasted your wonderful nectar straight from the source. You know there's nothing as sweet as your juices?"

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" You growl furiously, unconsciously digging your nails into his palm.

"So she can still hiss! And she even has claws. I remember how sweetly you scratched my neck with them before you ran away like a scared little bird."

"Shut up." You growl, feeling like you're starting to lose control of this whole conversation. And not just conversation. You noticed that you had somehow found yourself outside the ballroom. The music from there reaches you in the form of a gentle hum as it presses you against the wall of one of the empty corridors. You swallow, realising what a sh*t situation you are in.

"Or what? Watch your tone, little swan. It's my birthday. You should be nicer to me. I didn't actually hear you wish me a happy birthday; your little puppet did it for you."

"Unlike some, he is a real gentleman, not a puppet or monster."

"Ah, but we know very well that you don't want a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't do to you the things I did to you, and we both know how deliciously you moaned under my touch and how you shuddered as my tongue tasted you. Do you think your weak lord can do to you the things I showed you in the darkness of your house planet? That he can satisfy your desire? That he can free you from your shackles of social conventions as I can free you? You need someone bigger than the lesser man. I've already told you that. You won't settle for a man like that."

"You do not know anything about me. One night—not even the whole night—spent under my skirts won't suddenly make you know my true desires. You have changed, Feyd-Rautha. You're not the same boy from the Lankiveil I used to know." He hums thoughtfully at your worlds, watching you carefully and curiously.

"Hmm… maybe you're right, little swan. I think I need to do more to convince you that I am right."

You sigh as his lips press against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. You punch his chest, trying to push him away, but he presses hard against you, pinning you against the wall. You feel the toned muscles of his body as he grinds against you, demanding full access to your mouth.

You bite his lip until it bleeds, but that only turns him on more. His strong, large hand cups your breast, squeezing it tightly. You let out a surprised moan, and his tongue somehow finds a way to slip into your open mouth.

The material of your dress tears under his strength; his hands pull your breasts out of your dress and caress them as if his life depended on it. His fingers graze over your sensitive nipples, and you can only moan into his mouth as he sends a warmth straight to your core that reminds you desperately of how his tongue was working so well to release you that you had denied yourself.

You come to the shameful conclusion that maybe you could have let him bring you to orgasm before you ran away from him.

His lips finally leave yours, but you don't enjoy this freedom for long. They move to your neck, licking and nibbling madly, as if someone were about to tear him away from you. And the worst thing about it all is that you don't really know if that's what you want.

You scream as his black teeth dig into your skin, leaving a mark in the crook of your neck. You hear the click of enamel against metal as he accidentally catches your necklace, but he doesn't move away; he just sinks his teeth into it, as if trying to split a diamond in half.

He pulls away from you; you see the blood on his plump lips—your blood—and it only makes you more aroused. His hand slips under your skirts and reaches to your core, caressing you teasingly. You gasp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"Such a good little whore when she gets fingers and a few hickeys on her neck. Does your lord know what a shrew you are until someone kisses the venom from your lips? Does he know what fire burns inside you? Does he know what a wonderful feast you have between your legs for a thirsty man? Does he know you as well as I do? Has he seen how beautiful you look in the whirlwind of passion?"

His every question is punctuated by the rhythm of the thrusting of his fingers. You moan softly, holding back tears of pleasure, as he slowly brings you to the edge. You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him with all your strength as he plays with your clit and sucks hickeys on your breasts.

"So sweet… so soft… so wet. And it's for me. Just for me. For Harkonnen. Say it. Tell me who fucks that little pussy so well with his fingers. Tell me who's driving you crazy. Tell me whose attention you really want, you wanton little bitch, and maybe I'll let you cum, despite the way you treated me… and on my own birthday…"

"I... you... you..." You gasp in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nah. Not like that. My name, beautiful little swan. Scream my name. Exactly the way you should have done that night in the garden." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You moan as his fingers go deeper inside you, and his other hand caresses your breast, playing with your nipple.

"I... ah... Feyd.... Feyd, please..." You cry for him as your hips grind against his hand, seeking the sweet release that only he can give you.

"Yes…just like that…cum for me. Give me my birthday present and shout my name." You can only nod dumbly as you feel him take you over the edge. You bite down hard on his neck, refraining from making any noise as you tighten around his fingers, finally coming.

You gasp, feeling the metallic taste of his black blood on your tongue.

You move away from him as if burned. Your heart beats insanely fast as you stare at him, trying to process what happened. He pulls his finger out of you with a squelch, and you blush furiously. He puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them. He moans at the taste of you, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Perfect birthday gift. Although I believe I can get more." Just as he moves to kneel between your legs, you hear the voices of the guards patrolling the halls. You push him away from you in panic and run forward, trying to improve your appearance a little.

This time, he's not after you. He didn't make any attempt to chase you. He allows you to traverse the halls of Giedi Prime without the feeling of his breath on your back, but you are very aware that you have miserably lost today's battle against him. He did exactly what he wanted with you and would have gone much further (and unfortunately, you would have let him) if you hadn't sobered up with the possibility of getting caught.

You told yourself that this was what you needed to get over him. After all, forbidden fruit always tasted the best, and once you experienced the Na-Baron's... undoubted skills, you could move on and marry a man who was the absolute opposite of him, a man with whom you didn't have to worry so much about the future, as with Feyd-Rautha.

Yes, this was what you needed—one last affair before the wedding—to make sure you're doing it right. Because what would await you as Na-Baron's wife, or, God forbid, concubine? Nothing good. The Harkonnens were the harbinger of misfortune, suffering, pain, aggression, and, apparently, good sex.

Whatever you and Na-Baron were doing, it had to end now.

"I'm supposed to be his wife?! This barbarian?! You can't do this to me, father! Feyd-Rautha will destroy the empire and plunge us into the blood of war and senseless brutality. He's a psychopath; can't you see it? Surely there must be another way to keep the throne!" Irulan's screams echo throughout the guest wing. Your eyes widen in surprise, the unpleasant pang in your chest only adding to your daze.

So the rumours were true. The emperor wants to give Irulan to Feyd. You don't like this idea very much. If the Harkonnens married into the Corrino family, your right to the throne of Emperor, or rather the right of Lord Luwael, would be in jeopardy. No one stood a chance against them.

You snap out of your daze when you see the door handle to Irulan's chambers begin to move. You quickly run to your room and close the door quietly behind you as you wonder what the hell just happened in these few hours.

You return to your chambers blushing and with a rapidly beating heart. You can still feel Na-Baron's lips vividly on your neck, and you're sure you'll have to cover it tomorrow so no one will see the hickeys that bastard gave you.

How stupid you were again! How could you let him get so close to you again and corner you when you were alone in his territory?! And what's worse, he knew that it was you who went with him to the garden that night; he knew and he wanted more from you...

You shudder as wicked thoughts enter your mind, all because of Na-Baron's tantalisingly absurd whispers. How could you enjoy his attack on you? How could you moan so loudly in a deserted corridor? How could you shout his name and attract the attention of the guards?

You were damn lucky that no one caught you, that Lord Luwael disappeared somewhere, and that he didn't see you giving yourself to this... this monster like a mindless whore. It had to be the alcohol. They must have put something in your drink; you couldn't just... enjoy the touch of a Harkonnen, a Harkonnen who just a few hours ago had slaughtered you in the arena before your eyes and was enjoying it like a little child enjoys a candy... A Harkonnen whose body was ethereal beautifully...

You are snapped out of your thoughts when your mother enters your room in a state of… extreme daze.

"Mother? Have something happened?" You ask her, worried that your little (another) tryst with the Na-Baron might have turned out to be not such a secret at all.

"Lord Luwael just asked for my consent to propose to you. You did very well, Y/N. You will be an empress."

You swallow nervously and smile, nodding your head. Your mother hugs you, and you feel millions of thoughts racing through your head. You will become empress, but only if Irulan and Feyd-Rautha don't marry, and there was only one way to make sure that would happen.

You had to play a game with the devil himself and seduce and deceive him until the day it would be too late for his marriage to Irulan and you and Lord Luwael would take the emperor's throne. But how the hell were you supposed to do that without getting burned?

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran

224 notes · View notes

kaidatheghostdragon · 2 days

Text

You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!

Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.

So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.

Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.

Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.

Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)

(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)

Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.

Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.

Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.

Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.

I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)

As for danny's old team...

Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.

Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)

Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.

Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.

There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.

#dp x dc #dpxdc

173 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 23 hours

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (9)

Chapter 9: You (Show Me Where My Days Went)

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Warning: cursing

Word count: 9.8k

Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hi, lovelies!! LMLAR is BACK!! I am sooo happy I could finally update and just write, y'all have no idea! I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update, but finishing my thesis was super important! I still have to study and such this month, but I promise next update won't take as long as this one did! (I'm writing other stories too while writing this one, so that kinda backfires sometimes lol) I am forever grateful that you are patient and stick around for the new chapters, this story is so dear to me you wouldn't even believe it. I am also super grateful and happy whenever you leave feedback, so please, keep on doing just that!<3 This chapter only exists because I was randomly inspired, and I'd like to apologize if it's a little rusty, I always have to get in "character" when I write this story lol. I am soo excited for next chapter, I think it's going to surprise you hehe. PLS PLS imagine that airport look from Mingi when reading this chapter, the pics from the moodboard, you'll see during which part! I also have a very small surprise at the end of this chapter hehe. I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing:(( Please, listen to the song called You before or while reading! Enough yapping, I hope you enjoy and leave feedback! (Taglist is always open for those interested! ^^)

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Later that day

I hate him: hey…just checking in that I got home safely what are u up to?

I blinked, fingers tightening around my phone before I locked it, leaving the message on unread. My mother’s shuffling outside my door caught my attention, bringing a smile onto my lips as I watched her struggle while bringing all the dirty laundry to the bathroom. Then, I got off my bed to go help her.

Friday (11:30 am)

I hate him: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

Friday (12:50 pm)

I hate him: lol, wooyoung has been bitching about seulgi’s professor for half an hour now mr. kwon u know him? i mean…i suppose he also teaches u i should take a sneaky video for u…wooyoung looks like a clown hanging upside down my bed and pouting like a damn child too (dont say im also one, thanks)

Friday (15:26 pm)

I hate him: well…ik my messages are going through so uh… why tf are u ignoring me???! *cries and dies in loneliness* entertain me dollll!!! im so bored pls oh…u said u had an important assignment…i bet u’re busy with that sorry for spamming u (text back tho when u’re done, im dying here…wooyoung is with seulgi and so is seonghwa with hongjoong…the single life sucks, bestie…lets be single and depressed together<3)

My jaw clenched as I heaved a long sigh, falling back on my bed as the sun shone brightly through my open window, the light breeze making me shiver as I only wore a t-shirt and sweats. Autumn was slowly turning into winter; the weather wasn’t so warm anymore. I threw another look at my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the received messages from Mingi for a second before finally deciding to delete them from my notification center, rolling over in bed to muffle a frustrated scream into my soft, and purple, pillow.

Saturday (9:09 am)

I hate him: i had the weirdest dream and im not even sure i want to tell u about it LOL but uh…a grisly was chasing me??? and then u appeared on a fucking white horse like a prince LOL and threatened to like…slay it if it didnt leave me alone??? honestly…what a slay, bestie good morning, btw, doll hope u had a better night’s sleep than me (and dreamed of me ehehehe)

Saturday (17:40 pm)

I hate him: i cant believe i allowed myself to be fooled like this back in highschool yuyu and i used to play baseball for shits and giggles and hongjoong (that rich prick) rented a whole ass baseball field for us for the afternoon and let us play with some of his (rich af) friends and uh… i think i wont be able to walk straight for another week with how much running i did… hongjoong kept scoring homeruns…i wish yuyu was here to kick his loser ass (dont tell hwa or hong i said that PLS) yo doll…everything’s alright with u? uh u…really havent answered me since… yk…i stayed over and waited for the rain to stop… have i done something wrong?

I sighed and put my phone on ‘do not disturb’, suddenly having lost all of my appetite as I forced the rest of the lettuce down my throat. My mother was sipping her kiwi and apple smoothie, eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself while trying to memorize the recipe of a dessert for later. Desserts were never her forte, unfortunately.

“Is it Seulgi?” She asked absentmindedly as I took a large gulp of my own smoothie, staring down at my salad, steak pushed to the side in my plate.

“Huh?” I asked distracted, eyes still glued to the dark screen of my phone.

“Texting you, your phone keeps buzzing, my starlight.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to comment on it. I took a peek at my mother and her eyes were narrowed at me already, video on YouTube paused. Fuck, I had to answer her now or else she’d pester me all day long. And that would be a nightmare.

“Yeah, it’s Seulgi.” I lied, trying to make my voice sound convincing.

“Well, answer her then, don’t be rude.” My mother chastised me, pressing play on her video again, pursing her lips as she shook her head at whatever the man baking was saying.

“Later.” I whispered, biting my lower lip as my eyes remained glued to my phone, stomach clenching and heart dropping.

But I couldn’t.

Sunday (1:01 am)

I hate him: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

『When you came along, I knew what was wrong

If you want to know exactly what I've missed』

Monday (present time)

It truly would have been a missed opportunity if Seulgi and I wouldn’t have grabbed coffee and went to sit in our usual spot in the back garden. The campus of our University was huge and that was perfect, because it meant people migrated and didn’t stay in one spot for long—at least long enough to irritate me to no end. Last week deemed to be rather rough, and I still didn’t feel like completely myself. To be honest, I thought about staying home today—and for the rest of the week—but I couldn’t afford missing any of my classes as exam period was slowly nearing, and so, I had to force my ass out of the house this morning before my mother could come and nag me about my weirdly unusual broody mood that has been going on for the past few days.

I hummed as I took a sip of my sweet coffee, enjoying the taste of warm caramel as Seulgi sighed loudly next to me, both hands cupped around her own coffee cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted from her cup and I scrunched up my nose, not too fond of the ingredient’s smell. Our classes started early in the morning today and we’d be here for at least four more hours, caffeine seemed like our only hope to stay awake and aware at this point. Given the fact that my baffling thoughts kept me up all night yesterday, I felt grateful that I was still on my feet at two o’clock at noon. As Seulgi fidgeted again, I chuckled and finally turned my head to look at her. She had a sheepish look on her face, and I tried not to laugh as I knew she was bursting to tell me all about her date with Wooyoung on Saturday.

“Well,” I started as I took a sip of my coffee, prolonging the suspense for her, “how did your date go?”

“It was amazing!” I had barely finished asking as Seulgi exclaimed, her cheeks turning rosy—and it wasn’t due to the cold air, “Wooyoung is—everything I thought he would be. He’s sweet and up for anything, he makes me laugh until I feel like passing out, and there’s just never a dull moment with him, you know?”

“One would expect that from him.” I muttered against my cup, laughing as Seulgi nudged my side, not looking too happy with my comment, “Oh, come on, it would be hard for Wooyoung to be different than the way he mostly presents himself; don’t you think?”

Seulgi grumbled something against her cup as she lightly bit into the carton, shooting me a pointed stare, “Well, yes, but…he makes me happy. Treats me well and all that, you know, he’s the perfect embodiment of what a boyfriend should be like.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” I teased with a smirk, wriggling my eyebrows at my best friend as her cheeks flushed an even darker color as she bit her lower lip, trying to mask the huge grin expanding on her lips. But as soon as I started giggling, Seulgi also broke out in a fit of giggles, hiding herself behind her wavy hair, pressing her cup of coffee against her face.

“God, I’m so down bad for him, Y/N, I don’t think you’d understand.” She mused, voice airy as she threw her head back, leaning back against the back of the bench. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink.

“Maybe I’d do.” I muttered, memories of my relationship with Yunho resurfacing. Thankfully, however, I managed to repress them as quickly as they came. They didn’t feel so gut-wrenching anymore, and to my surprise, didn’t leave a bitter taste in its wake either. What has changed? Certainly—certainly getting closer to his best friend didn’t influence the way I feel about Yunho, right? Right.

“So,” I glanced at Seulgi from the corner of my eyes as she swung her legs, looking down at her feet in the process, “how are you?”

“Fine, why?” I asked confused, angling my body to face Seulgi better.

“You’ve been…distant the whole weekend. I could barely reach you.” Seulgi’s voice sounded small and I gulped, feeling bad for making her worry about me, “You know…the last time you pulled away and disappeared, it was bad.”

“I promise you I am doing completely fine, Seulgi, you’d be the first person to know if I was in a bad headspace again, alright?” I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Seulgi sighed and then raised her head to look at me, lips pulled into a thin line.

“Promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” I smiled at her warmly and she hummed in contentment, squeezing my hand back as she took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit before removing my hand from hers to fiddle with my half empty cup, “I’m just dealing with some things right now. I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Seulgi asked curiously, leaning closer as I continued to avoid eye contact with her.

“I’ll tell you once I have my thoughts sorted about it.” I chuckled, making Seulgi roll her eyes in displeasure.

“You know, I tell you absolutely everything about myself and how I fell, and you always shut me out and tell me how you felt about a situation when it’s been over for years.” Seulgi pouted, narrowing her eyes at me, “How’s that fair, Y/N?”

“Hey, we work differently, don’t try to guilt trip me now.” I chuckled and took a sip of my coffee, making Seulgi roll her eyes, “Anyways, what did you do on your date with Wooyoung?”

“We went to the cinema,” Seulgi’s face lit up once again, grinning from ear to ear, “He bought me roses, a big bouquet. And after the movie we went for a walk and ended up stargazing in his cabriolet. It was really romantic.”

I smiled, feeling happy for my friend, she deserved someone like Wooyoung, “That actually sounds really amazing…and romantic.”

“Oh, my God, are you really Y/N? Where is my friend that hates anything that has to do with romance, cute stuff, and love?!” Seulgi’s shocked face was mocking and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned back against the back of the bench.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not a huge fan of all of those things, okay?!” I shrugged, letting my arms fall from my chest as I pushed them inside my coat’s pockets.

“Who’s the culprit?” When I raised my eyebrows at Seulgi, a sign that I didn’t understand her question, she chuckled and leaned closer, “Who’s the man that’s changing your views on life, huh?”

“Man?” I asked with a scoff, giving Seulgi a deadpanned expression, “Does it always have to be about a man? Can’t it be just the fact that I had a change of mind?”

“Sure, because of someone.” Seulgi had a smug look on her face, acting as if she won the argument. But there was no argument here and she had no idea what she was talking about.

“Whatever—” But I got cut off as her phone dinged loudly. Seulgi, very comically, scrambled to reach for her phone and as she opened it up, a wide grin stretched onto her lips. It didn’t take two braincells to realize who had texted her, and thus, I chuckled and turned my head. I sipped my coffee, taking in my environment while Seulgi answered her boyfriend, giggling quietly every now and then.

The campus was finally silent and not as busy as it usually was in the early morning hours. The cold weather also helped in keeping the garden a little quieter as most people preferred to stay inside the warm corridors and classrooms. But the chilly air was good, it soothed my nerves and erased thoughts that weren’t productive. Similar to that, were the emotions that I didn’t want to deal with again, like the guilt that’s never left me ever since Mingi walked out of my house wearing Yunho’s old clothes. It felt wrong letting him take them without knowing the truth about them, but I didn’t feel ready to tell him yet about the truth. I was scared, surprisingly, of what he’d think of me once he found out about Yunho and I. I was scared that—he’d walk away, like Yunho had once done. And that was a very frightening thought. But when had I become so attached to Mingi? When has Mingi managed to infiltrate himself so thoroughly in my life, that the thought of completely losing him became scary? And why was I taking the past few days so badly? It’s not like we were as close as Seulgi and I, or him and Seonghwa and Wooyoung, yet, ignoring him felt like the wrong move to do. However, the reasoning I always circled back to was the fact that I needed space. I had to clear my mind, to find the purpose of this whole friendship that’s been blooming between us, and to make sense of everything. I had to figure out first why Yunho barely scraped my thoughts now, and why was it was Mingi who I found myself thinking of so often. In case you were wondering, no, I still haven’t found the reason, and it was becoming frustrating quite quickly. That near kiss was a—mistake. Yet, it could have been so much worse—it could have been a real kiss. And a real kiss would have ruined everything. I didn’t want to open up to anyone just yet, not when the memories of Yunho still haunted me in my dreams and drawings. Drawings that now more often than not consisted of Song Mingi.

And to my horror, the flipping of paper sheets is what alerted me back to my surroundings as I had been lost in my thoughts, oblivious to Seulgi putting her phone down and grabbing my sketchbook that lay between the two of us on the bench. As I turned my head, my eyes widened as Seulgi’s expression held surprise but amusement as well. She chuckled as she looked up, making eye contact with me. I lunged forward in an instant, trying to take my sketchbook out of her hands, but she leaned back and away, putting it behind herself.

“Bitch, I’m not the only one who’s down bad for a man.” She said with a laugh, making me groan as I gave up trying to snatch my sketchbook back from her.

“I’m not down bad for a man, Seulgi, stop this non-sense.” I hissed, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she kept flipping through my drawings.

“Please,” She scoffed, turning my sketchbook around and making me grimace as I came face to face with an exact replica of Mingi, sitting in his chair, at his studio that one time he invited me inside, “Who the fuck draws so many drawings of one single person if they aren’t in love with them—”

“I’m not in love with Mingi, stop it!” I exclaimed, heart beating fast as Seulgi raised her eyebrows at me, looking unimpressed, “Don’t ever again say that, Seulgi.”

“Okay, calm down, whatever. You’re not in love with Mingi.” She chuckled, closing my sketchbook but she didn’t hand it back yet, “But let’s face it, Y/N, you have a thing for Mingi. It’s super freaking obvious even without the drawings.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed and finally snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, clutching it to my chest. I knew bringing this along today would turn out to be a mistake, and here I was, facing the repercussions of my actions.

“There’s this glint in your eyes whenever you look at him—”

“Yeah, it’s called dislike.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“And I see how you struggle to refrain yourself from smiling when you’re around him—”

“Bitch, be for real, Mingi and I aren’t even often together around you for you to notice that.” I scoffed, completely appealed by whatever absurd claims my best friend was making.

“So you’re not denying it—would it really be so bad if you liked Mingi?” But Seulgi ignored all my interruption as she raised her eyebrows at me, smiling softly, “He’s a nice guy. Very well-mannered and with a big, and good heart. Wooyoung loves him a lot and is always worrying about him. He says Mingi hasn’t been the same ever since his best friend moved away for college—”

“Mingi is Yunho’s best friend!” I blurted out before I could stop myself, finally feeling like a stone was taken off my chest as I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes from Seulgi’s shocked expression, “Mingi is the best friend Yunho had always talked so much about while we were together. I—do you understand why it would be so bad if I ended up liking Mingi?”

“Y/N,” Seulgi whispered, eyebrows furrowed, “for how long have you know?”

“Long enough.” I muttered before clearing my throat, “So please understand that I’m not ready for whatever the hell me drawing all those sketches of Mingi could mean. A month ago I was close to bursting out crying even at the thought of Yunho, and now I fail to remember his existence on my best days.”

When I dared take a peek at Seulgi, she was smiling softly, almost proudly, “Fine, I’ll pester you about this later on, when you’ve figured things out, but until then—you can’t deny Mingi isn’t hot—”

“Can we stop talking about Min—”

“Hi, girls!” I jumped in fright at the overly excited and shrill greeting as both Seulgi and I turned our heads to be met with…Wooyoung and Mingi. Speak of the devil. Suddenly, there was a lump in my throat, and my heart started beating just a little bit faster as my eyes fell on Mingi’s tall form. It didn’t help that underneath his coat he was wearing Yunho’s sweater—the one I had given him.

“Hi.” Seulgi giggled as Wooyoung leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, the two looking sickly in love. It was actually endearing, but I’d never admit it out loud for my own sake as I knew I’d get teased about it by Seulgi. I averted my eyes from Wooyoung and Seulgi as they were muttering things to each other, and so, had no choice but to look up at Mingi, who looked—expressionless. Something in my stomach dropped at his cold demeanor, and it was worse that I wanted to assume it was my fault that he looked like that. But just as I was about to look away, he cracked the tiniest smile ever, and I exhaled, licking my lips.

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gulped, eyes trans-fixated on the tall man as his smile became just a little wider. I don’t think I had the power to ignore him anymore, not when he was standing right in front of me, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.

“Hi, Y/N.” Having not heard his voice in days, it sounded even deeper and raspier than usually, making butterflies erupt in my stomach as my grip tightened around my sketchbook. I felt a little awkward, perhaps even tense, as Mingi didn’t say anything else, just continued gazing down at me with his sharp dark brown eyes boring into my own. I had so many things that I could’ve said to him, but I felt tongue tied. I didn’t know what would be the right way to approach him after I ignored him for so many days. Would he understand? Is he mad at me now? Does he hate me now? Will he forgive me—

“Okay,” Wooyoung chuckled, syllable drawn out and sounding amused, “I feel like I’m interrupting something here, yet they are basically just staring at each other.”

“You’re right.” Seulgi giggled, and I finally looked away from Mingi, throwing a glare at my best friend as she had leaned into Wooyoung’s side, who stood next to the bench and her.

“Shush, you two.” Mingi beat me to telling the two love-birds off, and I couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong to.”

“Look who’s lecturing me about poking my nose where it doesn’t belong to—”

“Wooyoung.” Mingi’s tone held a warning, and it made Wooyoung giggle as he leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against Seulgi’s cheek—again—making her push him away playfully.

“We’re headed to class, are you coming over later?” Wooyoung smiled down at his girlfriend, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Maybe, if I get to finish my project.” Seulgi said with a pout and Wooyoung hummed, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips this time around. I averted my eyes, not a fan of seeing couples kiss, only to catch Mingi already looking at me. He was expressionless once again, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, looking almost nervous. And as Wooyoung stood up straight and ruffled Seulgi’s hair affectionately, Mingi took a deep breath.

“Will you come to Outlaw this Friday?” He asked in a rush, sounding almost reluctant as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he chewed on his lower lip. To my horror, I found my eyes fixated on his plush mouth and I gulped before I quickly averted my eyes, praying that nobody caught it.

“Yes.” I answered before Seulgi could, and nodded, smiling a little bit, “I won’t miss it.”

A beautiful smile spread on Mingi’s lips and he nodded once, looking too happy for something so little. I don’t think I’ll understand anytime soon why he gets so excited and happy when I listen to his songs or watch him perform. I’m no expert when it comes to music, my feedback is merely amateur and I’m not even a fan of his band yet.

“Cool, see you then.” And Mingi didn’t wait for Wooyoung as he turned around and walked away, steps hurried. I didn’t miss the confused glance Wooyoung and Seulgi shared before Wooyoung was off, chasing after his best friend. And maybe I would be soon able to make sense of my thoughts and feelings around Mingi, figure out what they meant and why they felt so real at times.

Monday (16:58 pm)

I hate him: hi Me: hi I hate him: would it be a lot if i asked to meet u tomorrow? Me: no, im free in the afternoon I hate him: cool, me too so uh…we can hang out in my studio? Me: or we can go to that new café with pottery I hate him: really? Me: u did say u wanted us to go… I hate him: i certainly said so i’ll pick u up around 4 Me: u don’t have to i’ll meet you there I hate him: come on, y/n…let me drive u Me: u’ve driven me around too many times by now i’ll meet u there and that’s final. I hate him: okay, boss, see ya there Me: :))

Getting here before four o’clock and having to wait in front of the cute café had no business being this nerve-wrecking. Yeah, Mingi hasn’t shown up yet—but perhaps that’s because there were still ten minutes until it’d be four—and I knew I had no reason to think he’d bail on me, but we hadn’t spoken since yesterday, when he had asked me if we could hang out. And so, waiting for him shouldn’t have had me breaking out in a sweat despite the cold weather, making me bite my lower lip harshly as I tried to smooth down the wool, green, brown, and beige patterned coat I was wearing. First of all, why the hell would I be so nervous about meeting up with Mingi alone at this cute café? He probably wanted to talk about that near kiss, and once we had that cleared, things would go back to normal—right?!

And maybe that was the reason which made me want to vomit on the sidewalk, the thought that I knew Mingi would demand answers—answers that I wasn’t yet ready to hand out. Why did I even agree to this? Because I missed him? I should have just stayed at home and done the project I’ve been procrastinating on—again. But when I heard the rumble of Mingi’s old Honda’s engine, I knew there was no turning back, catching the bus and running home to hide underneath my blanket.

As Mingi took his time to parallel park, I took a deep breath and gripped onto the strap of my tote bag harder, looking down at myself. My apricot orange sneakers matched the color of my blouse, the top two buttons out of five undone, but not showing too much skin. My blouse was tucked inside my washed out high waisted mom jeans, the black belt matching the color of my tote bag—I know black isn’t a color, I’m an arts major after all. My hair was pulled in a low ponytail just to prevent the wind from blowing it in my face, and I was thankful that I chose my wool coat as it kept me warm enough. I have opted to wear quite a few rings today, and because my neck felt too exposed, I decorated it with three necklaces of different length. I gulped hard one last time as Mingi got out of his car and took a few seconds until he managed to lock it. However, those few seconds were exactly what I needed to prepare myself to not pass out at the full sight of him.

Mingi, in true fashion to him, wore all black, except for his jeans that were a very dark shade of blue, almost black too. His turtleneck was tucked inside his jeans, a black coat with a hood keeping him warm from the cold late autumn weather. It almost made me smile upon seeing his own tote bag, black, and funnily matching mine. Except that his was plain, while mine had Claude Monet’s Water-Lily Pond painting painted on it, done by none other than yours truly, me. Mingi’s eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, and I snorted as he almost splashed himself up by stepping a little too enthusiastically into a big puddle. Two necklaces hung around his neck, reaching down his chest. A very obvious and sturdy silver cross necklace, and another longer chain that had pearls scarcely strung on it. And in true Song Mingi fashion, his rings weren’t missing, only two of his nails painted black on each hand, almost as if he didn’t have time to finish doing them. My heart racing in my chest so fast just at the mere sight of him, certainly wasn’t healthy, right?

“Hi!” I squeaked out and wished to burry myself instantly as Mingi chuckled, a very charming smile spreading onto his lips. It was a little annoying that I couldn’t see his eyes, forced to stare at his plush lips instead—let’s be real, nobody forced me, I did it because I couldn’t help myself, “The sun is quite blinding today, isn’t it?”

And of course, in good old fashion, my mouth worked before my brain would agree to saying something out loud, and my cheeks were burning as I knew Mingi saw me look at his lips. I had to divert the attention somehow, and teasing him was my best method, actually. It always worked.

“I’m trying to make a fashion statement,” Mingi grinned as he gripped the sunglasses and took them off in a very unnaturally hot way, “but hello to you too.”

“No need for a fashion statement when it’s just the two of us,” I narrowed my eyes, finding Mingi’s hair very soft and fluffy looking, almost as if he had recently washed it, and it wasn’t completely dry, “I’m not one of your fans.”

“Pity,” Mingi hummed, stepping slightly closer to me, “I thought I might just finally wove you.”

I scoffed, and as I was about to tell him off, he grabbed my tote bag and pulled me after himself, headed for the entrance of the café, “Did you have to wait long for me? Traffic was busier today, I had to take a few detours to get here in time.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me walk inside first, “I only waited half an hour for you to arrive, runway princess.”

“Runway princess?!” Mingi’s eyes bulged for a second before he started laughing loudly, making a few customers glance our way as we made it inside the café. I elbowed him in the stomach gently, not too keen of having people glare at us as he disturbed their peace.

“Don’t like the nickname?” I asked with a raised brow as we neared the front desk. The cashier had a friendly smile on her face while she greeted us as Mingi and I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what we’d like to have.

“Never said that,” Mingi answered with a chuckle as he threw me a quick glance, “it’s just surprising coming from you.”

“Why, can’t I call you a princess?” I chuckled, turning to face the cashier as I have made up my mind about what I’d like to have.

“Up until now you seemed to prefer the term ‘bro’, but I’m fine with whatever you decide on calling me, doll.” The look the cashier gave us made my cheeks flame up and I cleared my throat loudly, shooting Mingi a look that told him to shut up.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered embarrassed, smiling at the cashier, “can I get a strawberry cheesecake?”

“Sure, right away, and you, sir?” Her attention was on Mingi now, cheeks flushing the longer she looked at him. Okay, I could totally understand why. Mingi looked quite good right now, it was hard not to ogle him.

“A mint-chocolate cheesecake and a cappuccino?” Mingi hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked down at the cashier.

“Plain cappuccino or with vanilla?” The cashier typed in our orders as she asked Mingi, averting her eyes shyly once he looked at her, pursing his lips.

“Plain,” He decided at last, turning to look at me, “are you not getting anything to drink?”

“An orange fresh will be alright.” I said as I reached inside my bag to fish around for my wallet.

“And would you also like to paint some pottery?” The cashier asked, pointing behind herself at all the displayed options. Mingi and I shared a look and I smiled as I nodded at him, making him grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, we’ll paint some pottery too. Can I have a cup?” He asked, pointing at one on the higher shelf. It was a smaller cup, specifically made for drinking coffee. The cashier nodded and then looked at me expectantly.

“Uh, a mug will do for me.” I said and thanked her once she handed us the pottery and the paint that was used for painting these. Then, she tapped a few more on her tablet and told us the total. I opened my wallet to pay for my purchase, but Mingi had a card in his hands, the cashier already typing in the total sum for him to pay.

“Mingi,” I hissed quietly, looking at him with a frown, “what are you doing?”

“It was my idea to come here—”

“No, it wasn’t.” I cut him off, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric of his coat as I reached out to hold it, “I suggested we come here instead of going to your studio.”

Mingi sighed and pocketed his card, already having paid, then turned his body to face mine. I didn’t let go of his coat just yet, “Yeah, but when I drove you home during that downpour I asked you if you’d come here with me. So technically, it was my idea. Initially, anyways, it really was.”

“Mingi—” I started, but soon swallowed my words as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. My fingers tightened more into his coat and I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous due to our proximity. He faintly smelled of vanilla, it was a fragrance I didn’t except to smell on him.

“Can you not fight me on this one, please?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes softened up and I—struggled to breathe for a second as I stared up in his pleading eyes, mouth going dry. He looked—adorable like this, and I did not like the way I felt myself getting lost in his soft gaze.

“Let’s find a table.” I muttered, forcing myself out of the trance he placed on me, and grabbed my mug and the painting supplies. Mingi followed suit as he took his own cup and followed after me closely. We walked further inside the café and found a smaller table in the next room, closer towards the window. The walls were painted a faint orange and were decorated by white stripes that created abstract shapes. The chandeliers were white and hung low, the place well-lit for those who wished to paint pottery.

I placed the things in my hands on the table carefully, and then discarded my coat on the back of my chair and my tote bag by the leg of the table, pulling my chair out for myself. Mingi followed suit, however, he managed to almost send his cup tumbling to the floor when he took his seat. His eyes were wide as he just barely caught the cup, and I giggled as I watched him while opening the box that held all the paint. Thankfully, the table was spacious enough to harbor both our pottery and paints as the cashier brought out our delicacies. She threw Mingi a lasting look before she hurried back to the front desk, glancing our way at times.

“This is going to be a tough one.” Mingi said before scooping up a bit of his cheesecake with his little spoon.

“Why?” I asked with a chuckle, choosing a thin brush to start painting some flowers on my mug. My cheesecake could wait.

“Because I’m literally sat at a table with an arts major, having to decorate some cup by painting.” Mingi sounded stressed and I chuckled as I looked up at him, amused by his expression. His hair fell in his eyes a bit, and I found myself absentmindedly reaching over the table to brush it to the side. Almost as if realizing at the same time what I had done, we both froze. It felt like time stilled around us as I watched Mingi with a gaping mouth, slowly but surely, my cheeks becoming the color of a fire hydrant. But Mingi wasn’t better off as he bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes shyly as his cheeks turned the faint color of pink. Clearing my throat and accidentally choking as I hastily pulled my hand back, I averted my eyes and fought for my life to not choke. Thank God the orange juice was right there, I quickly took three large gulps.

“Th—thanks.” Mingi stuttered, staring at the table as he licked his lips, “Uh, it’s gotten long, my hair, I mean, I have to cut it when I get the time.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, grabbing my mug and chewing on my bottom lip in embarrassment—God, could the Earth swallow me up right now? Why the hell did I do that?! “Yeah.”

“Do you think I should change it up a little?” I paused as I had dipped my brush in red paint, and slowly looked up at Mingi, “Do something fun with it—like going blonde?”

“I hate blonde hair.” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nice one, idiot. Yunho was blonde while we were together, and thus, yeah, I’ve hated blondes ever since. And to be fair—and this is not me shitting on my ex—but that hair color did not suit Yunho at all.

“Oh, noted.” Mingi whispered, pouting a little. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hating myself for the weird atmosphere I have created.

“Mingi, you can do whatever you want with your hair.” I spoke up, leaning down to try and look him in the eyes as he was busy staring at the table, “My opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your hair. Go crazy with it, have fun, try out something new. Really.”

“But do you think it would suit me?” Mingi was still pouting as he finally looked up at me, looking quite crestfallen. My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to imagine him with blonde hair. He was quite blessed with his skin complex as most colors looked good on him, but perhaps I preferred Mingi with dark hair—black hair, more specifically. Like he had it right now. He looked—good. Handsome, even. Completely gorgeous. Fuck.

“I think it would suit you.” I settled on saying that. He didn’t have to know my train of thought, like at all. Mingi hummed in appreciation, and I watched as he reached inside his tote bag, pulling out a case that held his glasses. He took it out of the case and put it on, pushing it up on the bridge of his nose. He grinned when he looked at me and I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked down at my mug, finally starting to decorate it.

“There goes the cool, mysterious, hot celebrity act.” I teased under my breath, not expecting Mingi to hear me. But he did, and he started laughing, giving me a cheeky grin.

“Not quite a celebrity yet, but at least you admit I am hot.” Of course he was smirking as I gave him a deadpanned look, about to argue him on his statement, but he didn’t let me as he continued talking, “By the way, let’s exchange our cups when we are done. The mug will be mine and the cup will be yours.”

I tried to fight the smile off my lips, “So that you get the artwork of a talented artist for free to sell for an outrageous price later on when I’m famous?”

“I fear you have misjudged my character, doll.” Mingi’s eyes narrowed playfully, but there was truth to his words. I might just have misjudged his character.

“I still think you’re arrogant and selfish.”

“Of course you do, didn’t except anything less from you.” Mingi winked and then looked down, his cheesecake forgotten as he started decorating his cup, tongue just barely sticking out as he concentrated hard on whatever he had in mind to paint onto the cup. I chuckled and shook my head before focusing on my own mug, the silence that’s settle around us comfortable, as always.

Mingi and I were the quietest table in the café as we worked in silence diligently in, painting our own pottery. Mingi, at times, would hum along quietly to the songs that were played on the radio. Despite his cup being smaller and easier to paint, I finished painting mine before him, and so, I took the time to savor my cheesecake even if it had gotten warm and a little too soft. Mingi was hunched over in his seat, glasses low on the bridge of his long nose, with his full lips either pursed or with the bottom one bitten as his eyebrows would furrow every time he almost made a mistake. It was a funny sight, and I grabbed my phone without thinking much, and snapped a few pictures of him, leaning lower and even closer to his face to get the funny angles, all while Mingi remained oblivious to it. I chuckled as I looked at the pictures I had taken of him, looking at him when I felt eyes on me.

“What’s so funny?” He asked curiously, eyeing my phone for a second.

“You.” I chuckled and stuck my tongue out as Mingi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he heaved a long sigh.

“I’m finally done.” He grinned and I looked down at his cup, taking in the yellow chicks he had painted quite—clumsily. Well, not all of us had the skills of a painter—not that it was an issue or anything—it’s just that it’s been long since I had seen someone have the skills of a—kindergartner, “It’s pretty sick, huh?”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from giggling and nodded with my eyebrows furrowed, “I’d give it a seventy out of a hundred mark.”

“Hey! That’s too low!” Mingi said, looking offended. I chuckled before shrugging.

“You’ll have to work on your skills for a higher mark.”

“Fine, next time you come to the studio, I’ll make you sing.” Mingi raised his eyebrows, making me narrow my eyes at him playfully.

“Oh, I didn’t know we are in a competition.”

“We weren’t, until now.” He winked and then stood, grabbing my mug and his own cup carefully as he took it to the front desk for drying. I gathered the items we had used to paint the pottery with to place them back in the box, and couldn’t help it but sneak a glance at Mingi. He was leaned up against the front counter, grinning widely at the cashier as she spoke to him, using her hands for big gestures as she was probably explaining something. My eyes narrowed as Mingi leaned slightly closer to her, only to detach himself from the front desk and walk back towards our table. I looked away and busied myself with my glass of orange juice.

“So, we’ll get them delivered to our houses once they are dry and all.” He said with a smile, sitting down, “I hope you don’t mind I gave her your address too.”

“I don’t.” I muttered, chewing on the straw for a second, “I didn’t think you’d know my address.”

“Well,” Mingi flattened his hands on the surface of the table, “I’ve been to your house twice now. I think it’s only right I remember your address, doll.”

“Right,” I muttered, “you’ve been to my house.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and I figured he didn’t like the tone of my voice. But before I could correct myself and explain that I had nothing against that, he spoke up, “Y/N, I—I didn’t mean to scare you or—I don’t know—make you think that I want anything from you. I mean—we are friends, and I respect you as a woman and as a friend, and I know we almost—kissed. But I—I don’t want you to think that I’m playing some sort of game with you to get—to get in your pants. I’m your friend. And even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t do that to you.”

Hearing him say all that felt wrong. I didn’t deserve any explanation from him. I was the one that’s overreacted that day, and Mingi was the one that deserved an explanation and apology from me for the way I have acted. I knew I couldn’t completely open up to him right now, that some parts of the truth had to be omitted today, but he also deserved to know why I had pulled back. And I wanted him to understand that it wasn’t his fault for the way I reacted to everything.

“Mingi,” I offered him a small smile and gripped my empty glass for some support, “If you think you are the reason why I ignored you, please, stop thinking that. It’s—we both leaned in, okay? We were both about to kiss each other, it’s not like you initiated it or forced me to do something I didn’t want to. And nothing even happened, for God’s sake. I reacted that way because I—”

When I paused, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned over the table, gently poking my hand with his ring clad fore-finger, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable sharing it, Y/N.”

“But I want you to know this, Mingi.” I averted my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing myself for what I was about to tell him, “I had a boyfriend back in high-school who completely broke my heart, shattered it into pieces. And I know that happened a long time ago, and yes, I am over him, but I—I am scared people will treat me like he had treated me. I’m scared that if I let you close, you’ll just—leave. Like he did. And I know ignoring you for days was very shitty of me and I shouldn’t have done that—because quite frankly, Mingi, you deserve better—I just didn’t know what to do. I needed a few days to myself, to figure things out. It’s a bad excuse, but it’s the truth, and I think you deserve to know it. Since we are friends.”

Mingi’s face conveyed no emotion for a few seconds and I gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did he figure it out now? That I was talking about Yunho? That maybe I have started feeling something for him too, for Mingi? Would he stand up and leave? But to my surprise, a wide smile stretched onto his lips and he hummed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Thank you for trusting me, it means a lot that you told me all that.” I bit my bottom lip, looking down at the table abashedly, “And I was never mad at you for ignoring me. I completely understand you, Y/N, and for the record, I have zero intentions of leaving you. And your ex is a fucking asshole for breaking your heart like that, tell me who he is and I’ll beat him up when I cross paths with him.”

There was nothing funny about what Mingi had said, especially since he was talking about his best friend, but the comically tough look on his face made me snort loudly as I shielded my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from laughing too loudly. Mingi started grinning like an idiot, his giggles deep, and making something coil in my stomach. When has Song Mingi become adorable instead of annoying?

“I doubt you’d want to kick his ass once you find out who he is…” I grimaced once that was out of my mouth, regretting it instantly. What was it about today that I couldn’t keep my thoughts and mouth in check? It was turning really frustrating.

“So, you plan on telling me one day?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows, making me snort, “Like real besties gossiping and shit.”

“You never fail to make me cringe when you call us besties, Mingi.” I shook my head, taking a glance at my wrist watch. Oh, the time had flown away, it was well past five now, and the sun was going down. I’d probably have to head home soon to have dinner with my mother. I was becoming hungry too.

“Well, that’s what we are so…” He cleared his throat before slowly standing up, making me look up at him, “Did you know today we’re celebrating the Festival of Light?”

“Nope, I had no idea.” I shook my head, standing up too as Mingi wore his coat, “I don’t follow the events our city organizes.”

“Pity, it’s really pretty.” Mingi pouted, waiting for me as I grabbed my tote bag and pocketed my phone, “Should we check it out?”

“I mean…maybe?” I shrugged and Mingi beckoned me over as he crossed his arm with mine, making me chuckle as I looked up at him. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his sneakers had a thick sole and they made him even taller, “Where is this festival held at?”

“Just down the street, at the Citadel.” Mingi smiled as he led the way out of the café, waving at the barista as she blushed again, making me chuckle as I subconsciously nuzzled up against Mingi’s side, the air chilly as the sun had set by now.

“That barista totally has a crush on you.” I found myself saying as we walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid crashing into the people that came towards us. Yeah, there certainly was an event on-going in the city, otherwise you wouldn’t see so many people out and about around this time. Everyone preferred staying inside after the sun had set, not keen of the cold nights.

“You think so?” Mingi mused, bottom lip jutting out as he narrowly avoided a child that was running around, “I didn’t notice.”

“You must be really dense then.” I snorted, eyebrows furrowing as I looked up at him, “She was constantly blushing, and she was totally looking at you with hearts in her eyes.”

“How do you know when someone is looking at you with heart eyes?” Mingi’s question threw me off, and I detached myself from his side, clearing my throat as I looked ahead, pushing my hands in my pockets. He was warm, it made me realize as the cold bit at my skin now that I wasn’t nuzzled up by his side anymore.

“Well, they have this look in their eyes, you know? It’s warm, and soft, and it lasts.” I explained, feelings my cheeks heat up, “And their eyes always linger on you when you aren’t watching them. It’s like…puppy eyes, I suppose? I wouldn’t actually know, Mingi, nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”

When there was no response, I looked back to find Mingi looking at me intensely. My eyebrows furrowed as we have arrived to the Citadel, the gates open for the visitors of the festival. The place was packed, this wouldn’t be so fun anymore. I would’ve turned around and walked back home if I didn’t see how excited Mingi was when I agreed to come check it out.

“There’s lots of people here.” Mingi muttered, and then walked closer to me as I led the way inside, a little baffled by his reaction to my answer. I just merely gave an answer based on my beliefs. It was him that was acting weird now. But as I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore, that he wanted us to drop the subject. His last comment was a way to veer the conversation in a different direction. What was it about us today making everything weird? I sighed and just walked further inside, trying to avoid the big crowd which seemed almost impossible as it stretched on and on. The Citadel, however, was beautiful as it was coated in darkness, only the little paper lamps and fairy lights illuminating the place. It had a certain aura to it, almost romantic, and I soon found myself smiling as we walked down the cobblestone path, still trying to avoid people and stick close to each other’s sides. The air was chilly but the walls of the Citadel did a great job at keeping the breeze out, and the crowd certainly kept the place warmer than it was outside the stone walls.

I found myself admiring the décor in wonder, my mouth hanging open as I took in all the little lamps placed down on the ground, following the cobblestone paths, illuminating our way. It was truly beautiful, it almost felt like the scene was taken out of a fairytale. I found myself filled with excitement and happiness as I turned to grin at Mingi.

“This is so beautiful!” I giggled, absentmindedly grabbing the sleeve of his coat and dragging him away from the path and into the dying grass as there was a panel covered with paper, and people were writing on it. Mingi remained silent, but as I searched around for a pen or pencil, I felt him watching me, “What, do you not want to write something?”

“If you manage to find a marker or pen, I will, sure.” He said with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his tote bag before he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. I chuckled and looked around for a marker, but it was hard to see it in the darkness whether they were laying around in the grass or not. To my surprise, a little girl standing next to me looked up at me with a small smile on her lips, and offered me her purple-coloured marker, saying she was done with her drawing. I thanked her with a chuckle and turned to face Mingi with a grin.

“I found one!” Mingi chuckled and took the marker from my hands, being able to reach high up where the paper was still empty, due to his height. The panel was illuminated from the inside so you could actually see what was written on the paper. I watched him as he wrote on the paper, hesitating for a second, before he stepped back and handed me the marker. I raised up on my tip toes curiously, and craned my neck to see what he’s written. ‘The moon is beautiful tonight.’

I felt a smile spread onto my lips as I looked back at Mingi, who’s expression was serious and almost sad-looking as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his tall nose. I craned my neck back once more to gaze at the dark sky, at the moon, and indeed, there she was, beautiful and shining brightly. It was a new moon. Taking a swift glance at Mingi, I raised back on my tip toes and stood close to the panel, reaching up, just underneath Mingi’s writing. Thankfully, I could reach just bellow it, and I grinned as I quickly drew a new moon, adding a little shading to it and dents as well, creating the illusion of a real moon. Mingi remained silent as I took a step back, admiring our work. I handed the marker to another child as I fished my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture quickly of our artwork.

“The moon turned out beautifully.” Mingi commented once we had stepped away from the panel to let others draw too, headed back onto the cobblestone path.

“Still, it’s not as beautiful as the real one, but I tried my best.” I chuckled as I crossed my arms in front of my chest for a second, avoiding a man as he wasn’t looking in front of himself as he raced down the path. Mingi threw him a displeased look before looking down at me.

“Your drawings and paintings are always beautiful, Y/N.” Mingi said and I found myself blushing, thankful that it was so dark he wouldn’t be able to see it. I uncrossed my arms and turned my body a little to face him. There was music coming from one path, the one which led to the southern part of the Citadel.

“Are you nervous about Friday?” I found myself asking him as Mingi veered us towards where the music was coming from. He looked at me for a second, and then shook his head.

“I’m rarely nervous when we have to perform.” He said nonchalantly, the back of his hand brushing lightly against mine. My heart did a somersault against my ribcage, but I ignored it.

“Oh, you’re such a cool guy.” I teased him with narrowed eyes, making Mingi chuckle.

“I rarely get nervous, to be honest, even less when it comes to performing.” He hummed, looking up at the dark sky for a second, “I trust myself and my bandmates that everything will go well, so, there’s no actual reason to feel nervous.”

“But I’ll be there on Friday, that still doesn’t make you feel nervous?” My question was meant to be teasing, part of our playful banter, but the way Mingi gulped and quickly averted his eyes told me that perhaps I hit the nail spot-on. Well, now I have turned things awkward again. I sighed loudly, chewing on my bottom lip as Mingi remained silent, the two of us walking down the narrow path as the music became louder as we were nearing the stage. Jazz music was playing, the lady who was singing had a powerful and smooth voice that carried over the crowd neatly. There were a few people dancing in the crowd.

“Perhaps having you there will make me nervous.” Mingi’s voice was barely above a whisper and I tensed when I felt his pinkie brush against my own, making me clench my hand into a fist. But a very quiet voice inside my head demanded me to accept Mingi’s subtle request, and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard in my chest, I relaxed my hand and slowly slipped it into Mingi’s. If he stopped walking for a milli-second, I didn’t say anything about it, and he also ignored it. His grip turned firm as he intertwined our fingers together, gently pulling me closer into his side as he smiled at a mother who apologised for his son almost running into us.

I gulped and kept my eyes ahead of me, too nervous to look at Mingi. Holding his hand like this meant nothing in particular, but it was a nice feeling. It made my cheeks warms and heart race. And I didn’t have to look at Mingi to know he was smiling like crazy, his cheeks just as red as mine as we came to a stop behind the dancing people.

Have I started falling for Song Mingi?

『It's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm just saying it's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

You, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

You're what I've been chasing

Show me where my days went』

❱❱ Next chapter

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

so...the festival of light scene was totally inspired by me and my bestie attending it in our city lol; it was sooo beautiful and the pictures in the moodboard were actually taken by us; also, her and I kept laughing about the romantic vibes we were getting, all in all, we had a nice time...and OFC we make everything about Ateez so :))

I wrote that LOL I'm like Mingi, tall enough to reach the top where people haven't scribbled onto yet lol

also, this is what y/n's outfit looks like for anyone wondering, except for the colors as they are the way I have described them in the scene ^^

79 notes · View notes

thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 3 days

Text

Love is a killer that never dies (part 4)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. NSFW!! Discussion of dub-con.

Sex Pollen!AU for the short series that began with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart). Can be read as a standalone.

This is part four of four.

Title taken by another song by Beast in Black -Born Again- since it's not part of the main continuity. Kuraigana Island is Mihawk's home in the manga/anime.

Shanks being in a relationship with his crew's doctor is an allusion to this headcanon list and then to this fic, even though they take place in a different continuity.

Mihawk having a sister is a reference to this headcanon list.

*****

The soft notes of a flute entered the room through the open window. Mihawk didn’t know who was playing, just like he didn’t know what time it was; the world out of his bedroom seemed to have disappeared, leaving only him, the woman he loved, and the bed he was lying supine on.

(name) smiled as she sat on his lap once again; she bent to kiss him, letting her hands roam the naked expanse of his chest. “Sometimes I try to imagine you clean-shaved.” she mused “You didn’t have a beard when we met as kids, but I have never seen you without it as an adult.”

“I have had a beard since I was old enough to grow one.”

“Why? It does become you, of course.”

The real reason why Mihawk had always let his beard grow was to look as different as he could from his father, who used to shave every day; and after the old lord Dracule had died, by simple force of habit. He could explain it to (name), but he didn’t feel like talking about his father, at least now.

“I like my face the way it is.” he said in the end, and he felt her smile against his throat.

“I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

She kept kissing him, murmuring how good he looked and how happy he made her as she explored his chest with her mouth, gently sucking and biting his pale skin. “I want to kiss every inch of your body.” she declared.

Mihawk grinned. “No matter how meticulous I am regarding my personal hygiene, there are parts of my body it would be highly improper to kiss.” he pointed out.

“You heard me. Your feet, your elbows, your ears… any part of you is lovely and perfect; I want to show you how ardently I adore you.”

Mihawk stopped breathing when he felt (name)’s lips kiss the thin strip of hair that went from his navel to the waistband of his trousers; he lifted his head from the pillow to look at her, and the woman met his eyes with a smile, kneeling over him, her perky ass lifted in the air. He was starving for her, his throbbing erection begging for mercy, but (name) limited herself to observe the fabric-covered tent in front of her with an half-interested expression that was both arousing and infuriating.

“Hmmm, what do we have here…”

“For the Gods’ sake, woman!” Mihawk exclaimed, exasperated; he could have taken care of the matter himself, he wasn’t tied down or trapped in any way, but he wanted her to do it… to disrobe him, to feel her hands on him, to touch a part of his body he would have gladly allowed her to kiss “Will you take them off me or not?”

“I didn’t know you were so impatient.”

“(name), I’m not kidding…” Mihawk warned her before sighing, admitting privately he had no way, and intention even less, to threaten her. As if she had read his thoughts, (name) giggled; a moment later her fingers were resting to the hem of his trousers.

“May I?”

Mihawk didn’t answer; he simply lifted his hips, letting (name) free him from his clothes - all of them; no longer constricted under the fabric, his still painfully hard cock sprang up, rising as if it had felt the close proximity of the woman who would soon take care of it.

(name)’s eyebrow raised as she contemplated it. “Eager, are we?” she asked, but Mihawk could see she was impressed with the size of his erection, vainly trying to hide how her eyes lingered on the thickness of the column, and the veins that would feel so good inside her.

“Am I not to your liking, my lady?” Mihawk inquired with a smile.

“You most certainly are, kind sir. Now, you remember what I said?”

Before Mihawk could answer, (name) had lowered her face to his cock, her lips brushing against the tip; the swordsman’s hips quivered. “Hello… it is nice to meet you, finally…”

She kissed it; Mihawk moaned, a hand pressed to his mouth, and felt the woman’s tongue lick up and down his length, stimulating the member until its owner was literally babbling, unable to form a coherent sentence beyond “fuuuck…!!”

And then she swallowed.

What followed were six minutes of complete bliss, that (name) spent worshipping and torturing Mihawk’s length to the best of her ability - an ability that the swordsman never imagined she possessed. His moans, heavy breaths and occasional swearing filled the room; Mihawk kept his dominant hand on the woman’s head, caressing her hair to demonstrate his appreciation, and used the other to grab the side of the mattress, to unconsciously try to keep himself anchored - to what, he couldn’t explain. To reality, perhaps; because she was driving him crazy, a folly Mihawk wasn’t sure he would ever want to come back from.

“Oh… oh, Gods… mmmh…! (name), don’t… don’t stop… oh… oh, yes, darling… oh-oh, fuck…!”

The last expletive left his lips as the woman did something particularly filthy with her tongue; she smiled at him, clearly happy and flattered at the way her lover -because this was what they were, Mihawk reflected; because of what they were doing, and so much more- was reacting to her ministrations. Then, unable to speak, she raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

Mihawk shook his head. “No, not like this.” he murmured; no matter how divine it would have been to come in her mouth, he had other plans for their first time, other places he wanted to feel her, and he wanted (name) to enjoy it as much as he did “Not now. Come here, my beauty.”

She kissed the tip of his cock one last time before crawling to him; Mihawk used his fingers to clean her mouth before kissing her, softly but intensely, and he felt the woman’s body mould itself against his.

“Let me make love to you.” Mihawk murmured; there was no real need to ask for permission, but he had to hear it - because he wanted (name) to be sure, and because he needed her to say she wanted him “Let me take you, let me make you feel good… I swear I’ll make you happy, it’s the only thing I want…”

(name) giggled; she circled his shoulders with her arms, close enough they could both feel the other’s heartbeat.

“You still haven’t figured it out?” she asked, gentle disbelief in her eyes “Mihawk, I am already happy. How could I not be, when I’m with you?”

He had no answer for that - a new experience in his life. Mihawk turned carefully to depose (name) on the bed under him; she lifted her hips to allow him to take her panties off, but when she waited for him to do the same with her underskirt, the swordsman shook his head and simply lifted it to expose her pelvis.

He looked at her; he had to force himself to swallow as (name) opened her legs, tempting, inviting, open and warm for him. He lay down over her, and when he slipped a hand between their bodies he could already feel how ready for him she was, but he wanted to take no risks, and so he started to gently caress her, relieved and proud to hear (name) approve vigorously, her soft body writhing against him, until he suddenly felt her whimper, and his fingers were no longer damp… they were soaking wet.

He met her gaze, disbelief and delight dancing in his eyes. “Darling, did you…?”

“Hmm-hmmm.”

“But I haven’t even…”

(name) blushed. “Well, clearly what you did was enough.” she admitted, and as she smiled Mihawk felt her hand, until now resting on the small of his back, descend to his buttocks to squeeze vigorously enough to elicit a gasp “But I want more than your fingers in me, Mihawk.”

He gave it to her. He felt her hold her breath as he penetrated her, his hips moving slowly, cautiously and deliberately as he explored the warmth of her body; he felt (name) tremble and hold her breath until he was immersed inside her to the hilt. Every inch of his being screamed at him to move, to drink from the cup that was now in his hands and that would finally satiate his thirst, but Mihawk didn’t; he searched her gaze, and in her smile, in the trust and adoration that filled her eyes, he saw she was alright, and then she was ready.

And then, reassured, Mihawk started to move, at first cautiously, and then, when she dug her nails in his back

“More.” (name) growled; the swordsman had never heard her talk like that, but given the shiver of pure lust that ran through his body, he immediately decided he liked that “Harder, Mihawk. Please…!”

faster, and faster, and after a moment of awkwardness his body and (name)’s learnt to move at the same rhythm, guiding and following each other, and soon they were one, a single, trembling and fiercely hot thing, the sensual music of their panting matching the sounds of the man’s hips pounding against the woman’s, his muscles tense, his self-control already hanging by a thread, because he had known already she would be soft and warm and tight, and she was, much than he expected, the realisation of all of his dreams and so much more, and while he wished that moment would never end, the delicious torment of their coupling lasting until they would both forget their names and just be able to feel each other, on the other he just wished to let go, to relinquish control like he had never allowed himself to do in his life, to allow himself to be weak, if only for a moment, confident she would not judge him or think less of him for it. He wanted to make her come, yes, he wanted to hear her scream her pleasure and realise no one else could give her what he could, but what he needed was to find his peak inside her; it’d be a miracle, a moment of perfection in an otherwise dirty and squalid world, and Mihawk demanded that moment, he’d let nothing and no one take it from him, because (name) was her own woman, she belonged to no one, not even to him and that was why he loved her, but his first orgasm inside her - Gods, that was his and he couldn’t wait to take it.

“Oh… Oh, Gods… M-Mihawk… yes, darling…” (name) murmured; she was so beautiful like this, her hands clawing at his back and shoulders, her chest bouncing with the strength of Mihawk’s pounding, her legs now crossed around his hips as she moved, searching desperately for any ounce of friction and contact to satiate the thirst they had both awoken in each other “Take me, take me… Mihawk, please… this is so good…!”

“Do you love me, (name)?” Mihawk asked; he knew already, but he needed to hear her say it, and as usual, his woman did not disappoint.

His woman. It felt exhilarating to think about her like that, and at the same time natural, as if she were made for that, for being his just like he was hers. Mihawk smiled as he bent to kiss her once more, and (name) drank from that kiss like a woman who found a cup of nectar after dying of thirst for days.

“I love you; I love you so much.” she murmured; for a moment she looked frustrated, as if realising that, no matter how articulated and well-spoken she could be, no declaration could do justice to the intensity and depth of her feelings “I have never… I’ve never felt like this before. You’re part of me, Mihawk, and it’s… it’s almost scary how much I… the thought that one day I could lose you…”

“You’ll never lose me; I promise. No sea, no God, not even death could ever keep us apart.” Mihawk murmured; he was a breath away from penetrating her, he could already feel her warmth on his tip, but he wanted her to know the truth - to know that he would kill mercilessly anyone who would put her in danger; even if that danger came from him “Whatever happens, even the end of the world, I’ll always come back to you.”

“Oh, Gods, Mihawk…!”

A breath held; a slow but deliberate arching of the hips; and he finally bottomed inside her, the friction between their bodies so perfect in its sensuality that it elicited a moan from both of them. Mihawk moved cautiously, determined not to hurt her, but to his delight he found (name)’s body was already open for him, the expression of bliss on her lovely face proof enough she was more than alright with what he was doing.

“Harder… harder, darling, please…”

“Hmm, so eager.” he murmured as he caressed her hair “We have all the time…”

“I don’t care… please… oh, yes… Mihawk, please, I need more… I want to feel all of you, I have wanted you for so long…”

So open in her pleasure, her body singing for him and at the same time craving for more, she was the most inviting sight Mihawk could imagine; he grinned, determined to drive her crazy, to give her more pleasure than she thought her body could bear, so much that she would be indifferent to any other man. Not that he thought she could betray him; but it was good imagining other men could perceive his mark on her body.

Without warning, he suddenly slammed his hips into hers, almost slipping out to then bottom out again; (name) screamed. “Yes! Oh, fuck… like that, love, just like that…”

“You want more?” he provoked her; holding it together was becoming harder by the moment, but he was determined to make her come, and scream his name, at least twice before succumbing “Are you sure you can take it?”

(name) looked at him, both frustrated and supplicant; Gods, she looked so good like this, begging for him, begging to be ravished “Of course I can take it. Give it to me, Mihawk, it feels so good…”

“What feels good, my beauty?”

“Your-your cock inside me… fuck me, Mihawk, please…”

He grinned as he arched his back. “As you command.” he murmured before devouring her mouth once more to suppress the screams that would soon follow “My lady.”

A group of men was labouring in the gardens, hauling and assembling wooden planks to build a pentagonal-based gazebo; it was the sound of their work, the hammering on the nails and the saw’s buzzing, that awoke Mihawk from the deep slumber he hadn’t realised he was falling into, as he listened to (name)’s slowly decreasing heartbeat, his cheek pressed against her chest and her fingers in his hair.

He woke with a start, instinctively looking all around for whatever danger might have penetrated the room, and relaxed a moment later, realising that he was safe - and indeed, in a place from where no opponent and no threat could push him away from.

“I’m sorry, I should have closed the window.” (name) apologised; she was lying next to him, her lovely body bathed in the early afternoon’s light. She smiled, and obediently offered him her mouth to kiss as Mihawk took her in his arms.

“I’m the one who should apologise.” the swordsman admitted “I fell asleep while we were together.”

“Well, I did tire you out. And I guess the last twelve hours weren’t the most relaxing of your life either. If you need to rest some more it’s alright, we can…”

“I’m fine.” Mihawk reassured her; he wasn’t lying, since all the pain and fatigue, all the agony he had experienced due to the flower’s pollen, had magically disappeared as soon as he had been able to release his impulses in (name)’s arms - for the time being, at least. The conversation with Shanks had to have reassured the woman his feelings for her were genuine, irrespective of any mortal danger celibacy could pose, but he planned of showing her himself how much he loved and desired her; they had already made love twice, and he planned on not leaving the bed before the next morning at least “Really. Which obviously doesn’t mean I plan on letting you go any time soon.”

(name) smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, because I didn’t intend to leave either.”

Mihawk smiled softly as (name) snuggled against his side, and circled her shoulders with his arm; for a while neither spoke, the two lovers content with simply enjoying that newly found intimacy. Mihawk had now skipped a whole day of meals, and he didn’t care - for the time being, at least; the warmth of his woman’s body pressed against his, and the quiet joy he knew both felt as they lazily caressed each other were enough.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you I had a sister once.” Mihawk murmured after a while.

If (name) felt it was a weird topic to touch in their circumstances, she didn’t show it.

“No, I had no idea.” she whispered as she rested her cheek on his shoulder “What was her name?”

“Yoru. Lady Dracule Yoru.”

Neither felt the need to mention the large sword placed against the wall just a few steps from them, where its owner could grab and wield it at a moment’s notice.

“Oh, Mihawk, that is so sweet…”

“It sounded appropriate. This way I feel like she is here with me, wherever I go.” the swordsman explained; discussing his emotions was not something he was used to, but (name) was special, and that at least he had known long before he had fallen in love with her “She… she was all the family I had. Our mother died in childbirth, our father cared more about his gambling and business than about us, and gave us the boot when I was seven. Yoru took care of me, she made sure I was educated, she made great sacrifices to ensure I was safe, with a roof above my head and food in my stomach; I really don’t know what would have become of me if she hadn’t been there.”

“She must have been a truly exceptional person.”

“She was; she really was, I’m not saying it just because I was her brother. She… she died long ago; the same night I became the world’s strongest swordsman.”

(name) frowned for a moment; she perceived that was more than a simple coincidence, but she didn’t want to force Mihawk to share the truth with her, given the pain and regret she could see in his eyes.

“I am so sorry.” she murmured; words like those often felt empty and she knew Mihawk shared her opinion, but she couldn’t help it “I truly am.”

“Thank you. I… I really wish you could have met her.”

“I would have been happy to. Do you think she would have liked me?”

Mihawk seriously considered the question. Yoru, shy and reserved, with so much love to give and who felt most at ease alone or with the people closest to her, and (name), outspoken and self-assured, who could happily hold her own against both a Marines’ vice-admiral and the worst scum the world of crime had to offer, were probably as different as two women could be, but they were both clever and kind people, resilient in times of need. They would have probably respected each other seeing how much both of them cared for him, but Mihawk didn’t doubt the two women could have become great friends.

“She would have loved you. Really.” the swordsman added, seeing the joy in the eyes of the woman next to him “And I would have loved introducing the two of you. I know this is not the sort of thing one should discuss while in bed…”

(name) kissed his shoulder. “Mihawk, I thought it was clear that whatever you want, or need, to talk about, I will listen.”

“I know. I just… well, it is still hard to talk about her, but I wanted you to know about Yoru. She passed years before we met as adults, and after I lost her for a long time I thought I’d never… care for anyone else again in my life.”

“Mihawk…”

“I know. I am not saying you remind me of my sister or anything of the sort, but…”

Thank you. Thank you for reminding me what it means to love someone. He didn’t say it, but (name) understood it all the same, and a moment later it was her who had taken him in her arms, Mihawk gently kissing the softness of her breast -”It tickles!”- as his hand moved up and down her side. There was more than pleasure and affection in her, the swordsman realised, there was empathy and understanding and trust; he didn’t particularly need them, but it felt good to know he could find them in her.

Yoru would have been pleased.

“I am not done with you, you know.” (name) murmured after a while, circling Mihawk’s hip with her leg to lightly press her pelvis against him; the swordsman groaned, whatever tiredness he felt quickly disappearing from his body. He was half-hard already, but he lingered for a moment, looking into her eyes as if he could read his future in them; and that was exactly what he wished to do “I think I will never be.”

Mihawk smiled. “Now you’re flattering me.”

“Not at all. Which poses a question we should address, sooner or later.”

He saw his lover’s expression had turned serious, which made it easy for him to realise the meaning of her words.

“You’re talking about the future. Our future.”

“I am.”

“Hmmm…”

(name) turned on her belly, her arms crossed in front of her; Mihawk saw her stare into the void for a minute before sighing. “I have duties here.” she murmured, her tone not apologetic but factual as she described a truth she couldn’t and had no intention of challenging “In… many many years, I hope, but I am destined to become the lady of this island. This is my home, and I intend to take care of it to the best of my abilities, even if it means renouncing the life I have built for myself outside of it. Nor I plan on becoming a housewife, taking care of my home and then of my man when he returns.”

“I know. I would never ask you to change who you are, (name); not to mention I am not interested in a woman of that kind.”

“I know you wouldn’t, and I love you for it. Mihawk, this… thing we have, I want it to last; I want us to last. I won’t ask you to change who you are either, but there will be a time where I won’t be able to meet you on some island in a far-off corner of the sea for a weekend together, or to simply have dinner and spend the night in an inn after we met at the Marines’ HQ. I’d like that, and I can do it now, just… not forever.”

“I understand.”

Mihawk was silent for a while; the noise made by the men working to erect the gazebo was unpleasant, but he didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, even if getting up to close the window would take him no more than a few seconds. “You want to… I mean, do you intend to get married?” he asked in the end “As far as I know political marriages are common among noble families.”

(name) smiled faintly. “Does it interest you?”

“Answer me, please.”

“Well, not necessarily. Here on the island marriage has long been deemed unnecessary for two people to live together and raise a family; many decide to do it nonetheless, but it’s a personal choice. I’ll have to decide what to do regarding the succession, since I cannot bear an heir, but no one can force me to marry… unless I want to, that is.”

“And you want to?” Mihawk asked again; (name) sighed as she took his face in her hands.

“What I want is you; lover, partner, husband, I don’t care. I just need to know wherever you are, whatever you are doing, you’ll be thinking of me, because I sure as hell will be thinking of you.” she murmured “And yes, I’d really like it if between trips, when you’re not busy with your Warlord duties or otherwise occupied, you’ll come back here, to me, not out of habit or because you have no other place to call home but because you want to - because you miss me.”

“I don’t think I’d be a good consort for the lady of this island.”

“I beg to differ; and I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you’re not interested in, or to stop being a pirate. I just want my home to be yours as well; I want to be your home.”

She already was, Mihawk thought, even though she didn’t know; that made things easier on one side, and immensely more complicated on the other. “Let me think about it for a while.” he said, and (name) smiled, suddenly getting up on her knees to straddle him; she sat on his lap, looking immediately pleased with what she could feel under her buttocks.

“Of course; the offer will stand as long as you need it to. Fortunately I shouldn’t have to take my mother’s place for a few years at least, barring accidents, so you have time before having to decide; I just thought…”

“... I ought to know what it entailed being with you in the long run. I understand.”

“I’m glad you do. Now…” the woman’s smile widened as she started rolling her hips “Do you need to rest, or to eat, or may I fuck you the way I have dreamt of doing for months?”

Mihawk grinned as he gripped her hips; he could feel she was wet again, or still, and while he usually disliked taking a submissive role he couldn’t say the current situation displeased him…

He felt the softest part of (name)’s body brush against his cock as the woman started to move. “Lift.” he ordered, gently pushing her hips upward, and the woman pouted.

“I thought I was in charge right now.”

“I’m more than willing to let you be so, but you need to give me some space to slip it in.”

“Hmm, in that case I might decide to obey…”

A moment later, just as (name)’s gentle but firm fingers guided Mihawk’s erection inside her and soon after the labourers in the gardens had interrupted their work, both lovers became aware of a noise coming from the fortress’s west wing: shouts, an heated conversations, a man screaming in pain…

“That… that is my mother’s voice.” (name) realised, her gaze turning instinctively towards the room’s door; she had frowned, momentarily distracted just as she prepared to impale herself on Mihawk. The swordsman sighed, but he understood why she was concerned: while he couldn’t discern her words, the lady Veressa sounded completely beside herself, either with rage… or fear.

“Do you think she’s in danger?”

“I don’t know; I thought she had gone out, and the fortress is well-guarded, but…”

She bent to kiss him, quickly but fiercely. “Forgive me. I’ll be back soon, I…”

“I’m coming with you.”

“... you sure?”

“Of course. Not that I don’t think you can protect your mother.”

That last statement earned him another kiss. “Gods, I love you so much.”

They separated, and quickly got dressed; Mihawk retrieved his pants, and put on the shirt he had worn the previous day, while (name) slipped on the dressing-gown the swordsman had found in the room at his arrival at the fortress. Both bare-footed, they quickly walked out of the room.

“Where is the lady Veressa?” (name) asked the first servant they met “Call the guards, someone might have assaulted her…”

“She is in the main corridor of the west wing, my lady; and she is not in danger. She… well, you should see for yourself.”

Mihawk followed his lover, only partially reassured, to the corridor. The lady Veressa, he later learnt, had left that morning to visit a friend whose birthday fell on that day, soon before (name) decided to check why her guest was suddenly avoiding her; having returned to the fortress after lunch, she was informed (name) had ordered to have Theon locked in his room.

And then she discovered why.

The shouting, the two lovers found out, came from that very room, whose door the lady of the fortress had ordered to open before marching in and giving her nephew a piece of her mind.

“I should have you put in the stocks in the courtyard!” she cried, under the impassive gaze of two servants standing at the door; Mihawk didn’t know whether she had ever used the riding crop on a horse -the woman, an avid rider, was also known for the love and patience she treated the animals with- but given the brutality with which she was now wielding it, Theon probably regretted he hadn’t been handed over to the jailers already “I can’t believe you would do something this despicable! To your own cousin!”

The man was lying on the floor, younger and stronger than his aunt and still unable to defend himself against her righteous fury. “Auntie… please, I swear it was just a prank…”

“Don’t call me aunt! You’re no longer part of my family from now on! And your prank could have killed (name) or her friend! What would your poor father think? You’re a disgrace, you… you bastard!”

“Mother, language.” (name) intervened idly, stepping closer to the older woman. She looked down at the man snivelling at her feet, and her expression darkened; she had probably left her derringer in her room, but her homicidal gaze said clearly she could easily kill her cousin without shedding a tear “Hello, Theon. Clearly our ideas of pranks differ somehow.”

“(name), I… I’m s-sorry…” the man stammered; he sat on the floor, holding his stomach where a particularly vicious blow from the riding crop had hit him “I had no idea someone could die… I only thought it would embarrass you, and cause gossip to spread around the island about you and whoever you would choose to…”

“And what if I wasn’t able to control myself? What if I assaulted someone and ended up hurting them? Or if someone abused me, taking advantage of the fact I wasn’t able to consent to a rapport?”

Theon bit his lip; he didn’t even try arguing that he hadn’t thought about the possibility. A moment later he noticed Mihawk, standing silently behind the two women; he paled, as if suddenly realising who the friend who had been poisoned by his gift was, and knew instantly that apologising -and even begging for mercy- would be useless.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, returning to look at (name) and her mother.

“You do understand what you did could qualify as treason, if we decided to consider it as such.”

“It was a joke! I swear I didn’t mean to hu… to kill anyone. Please… my family needs me…”

(name) sighed; he turned to look at Mihawk. “You want to have him killed?” he asked “You are the victim, you should at least have your say.”

The swordsman reflected on it. “Can he wield a sword?”

“He can.”

“I can’t!” the man protested, immediately seeing where the discussion was going; the lady Veressa looked at him, disgusted, and took a step back to avoid the man touching her.

“Then no. If he were a worthy opponent I could let him challenge me and settle the matter with a fight, but I think it’d only waste my time.”

He preceded the two women in leaving the room; (name) closed the door. “And I thought my opinion of him couldn’t sink any lower.” she muttered, while her mother looked at Mihawk; given the state the two lovers were in, and what she had learnt about the Lily of Twilight’s properties, she had to be well aware of what he and her daughter had spent half of the day doing, but there was no embarrassment in the woman’s eyes.

“Mihawk… I am so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, my lady. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Still, both you and Theon are guests under my roof, and I am the head of our family; I know he harboured resentment towards the two of us, but I really can’t believe my nephew would stoop so low. He does deserve to be punished.”

MIhawk, who didn’t forgive easily, agreed; he didn’t even want to think what would have happened if (name) had been the one poisoned by the flower… especially if he hadn’t been there to take care of her.

“Unfortunately we can’t have him killed like our ancestors did with the relatives they didn’t like a few centuries ago.” the younger woman mentioned, clearly unhappy “We could order him to send his child here as a hostage, to punish in case he misbehaves again…”

“(name).”

“I was kidding, mother. I can’t believe it, he’s really getting away with it? I know he’s part of the family, and punishing him would only exacerbate his hatred, but he needs to know he can’t defy us and suffer no consequences.”

In the end, the two women decided Theon would be banished from the island for a year; from then on, a person of trust would be sent to his house to discreetly check whether the man had learnt his lesson and was behaving himself, or he was still scheming against his aunt and cousin, whether for revenge, spite, or in order to become the new lord of the island.

The lady Veressa asked the servants who had remained nearby to help Theon to prepare his luggage, and to make sure he’d be out of the fortress within the hour.

“To think that his father was my favourite cousin.” she added with a sigh “Well, I better go back to my study, I have a few letters to write. Are the two of you… alright?”

(name) looked at Mihawk; the swordsman nodded, his expression impassible. “I think we have everything we need.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I’ll see you both later.”

A smile and a nod, and the older woman walked away.

“Your mother doesn’t get embarrassed easily, does she?” Mihawk pointed out; from inside the room he could hear Theon moan that his aunt had covered him in bruises. (name) smiled, slipping under his arm to press her body against her lover’s “I mean, she could probably see you’re naked under your robe, and smell your perfume on me.”

“She really is; I think nothing short of a Buster Call could actually upset her. And she knew how much I care for you, so the fact that we are together now wouldn’t have surprised her in any case.”

She looked up at him. “You want to continue this in my room?” she murmured quietly, turning to face him “I could ask to have some food brought there; even the world’s strongest swordsman needs to regain his strength.”

“I could eat something.” MIhawk admitted; with a smirk, he slipped a hand under the hem of her dressing gown, immediately finding the warmth between her tights “Maybe food, maybe something else…”

“Hmmm, you’re so forward…”

(name) smiled. Mihawk felt her relaxing her legs just enough to let him plunge his fingers inside her; the woman’s inner muscles clamped around him, her lovely body wet and warm just like he had always imagined it to be. She was perfect, he thought admiringly as he gently rubbed the pad of his middle finger against her clit, eliciting a moan so exquisite and decadent Mihawk wished he could have tasted it, perfect for him and capable of bringing him so much joy, and he would never allow anyone to come between them. Whatever happened, no matter what challenge or obstacle the world threw their way, Mihawk would prove himself worthy of her love, and never let her doubt his.

He promised himself.

“Fuck… Oh, God, darling, yes…” (name) whispered; she had pressed her back against the wall facing her cousin’s door, as if her legs could no longer support her, shamelessly riding the wave Mihawk was gifting her with the simple but deliberate pressure of his fingers “Like this… just like… oh! Oh, yes, love…”

He knew anyone who needed to cross the corridor would see, and hear, them; she did as well, and neither cared. He made her come, a sudden kiss pressed to her mouth to swallow her scream, and when he felt her collapsing against him Mihawk was quick to lift (name) in his arms. She kissed him, hard and possessive.

“I’d ask where you have learnt to do that but I doubt I’d like the answer.”

“I’m a swordsman; I’m good with my hands.” he pointed out “Now, I think food can wait.”

He swordsman didn’t waste any time before setting out towards her bedroom.

“You are stuck with me now.” he murmured; Gods, ambrosia was nothing on her lips “I hope you know what awaits you.”

The woman smiled. “I think I know.” she murmured before kissing him again “And if I don’t, I can’t wait to find it out.”

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

28 notes · View notes

lunaloveeee · 2 days

Text

past lives

chapter one

In one age, your elbow is tucked in the crook of your father's arm, held tight as he guides you toward a pale-haired figure who watches you with his piercing eye - the man you're arranged to marry.

In another, your elbow is propped on a cedar table in the library, your head heavy as the endless hours of research and swirling words on a page are drowned out by thoughts of your classmate who sits beside you - daydreams about running your fingers through his pale hair, about finally feeling his piercing gaze on every part of you.

Time ripples with these familiar echoes. And as you turn each dusty page - when each word beckons past and future to collide - you ask yourself: Is my end already written?

aemond targaryen x f!reader || dual timeline, second chance, modern day (but also set in the past), soulmate au.

masterlist | ao3 link, for those who prefer.

Anticipation is a funny thing. It’s the body’s innate way of setting an expectation, of looking forward to an event, an opportunity, a change. It’s also interesting, in that often it can do exactly the opposite of what you would like it to. For example, you know you’re meant to wake up early for class today.

It’s a class many dream to take with a professor who touts many accolades throughout their career, and it’s only offered as a summer class. Only — you don’t wake up early for class. In fact, by the time you roll over to reach over and slap your alarm clock on your phone off, you realize it never even went off in the first place. Nervousness had led you to staying up until the early hours of the morning. The repercussions are clear now as panic-stricken fingers tremble as they reach across the surface of your night table, grasping at air until colliding with the edge of your iPhone. Oh no, you slap a hand to your forehead, 7:30. Class starts at eight, and if there’s one thing you know about this professor it’s that they’re prompt. Punctuality is not a laughing matter.

“Crap,” you nearly shriek, rolling off the bed completely in your haste, grunting as your body collides with the carpeted floor below. “Lydia?!”

The apartment is silent. Lydia must have stayed out the night before at her fiancé’s place. Suiting, as they would be marrying at the end of summer and finally moving in tighter once your lease expires. Choosing to ignore the impending realization of having to find a new place soon on top of everything else you have presently going on in your life, you quickly dart over to the closet in search of something to wear. Two weeks of laundry sits in a hamper, taunting you, the offerings of your closet dwindling with each thrust of a hanger as you rummage about.

“Come on, come on,” you cry, settling on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt that probably should be thrown away at this point, as the edges are fraying, but it’s all you have at the moment that isn’t in need of a wash.

It’s a mad stumble over to your mirror, shrugging out of your clothes and slipping into new ones, taking in the horrifying state of the makeup you never took off the night before. Mascara and eyeliner has since smudged along your cheeks in your sleep, and it seems you’re doing a great impersonation of a raccoon. You don’t have much time, so you make work of brushing your teeth and washing your face at the same time — not a simple task — and blow a strand of your messy hair out of your face, giving that a quick brush before deciding you’ll have to forego makeup this morning. Already off to a great start, you huff out a sigh, snatching your backpack from the floor and phone off the charger. Fortunately, your school is a quick few blocks away that you manage to run, ignoring the protesting blisters that are likely forming on the bottom of your sandal-covered feet.

Students whirl around as you enter, muttering your apologies under your breath as the professor reprimands, “Lateness will not be tolerated, Miss…”

You provide your name, slouching as you make your way over to a seat beside Lydia and think about all the ways you might disappear off the face of the earth. And quick, preferably.

Her blue eyes scour your features, gesturing to the state of your clothes and the bedraggled hair on your head. “In a little rush this morning?”

“My alarm never went off,” you tell her in a low growl, quieting as the professor stands to his feet and draws the attention of everyone in the room with their booming voice.

“The summer syllabus is simple, students. I want passion. I want exploration. I want you to research something that gives you life. So I want you to explore, to really dig into the material, to see why history is still a living, breathing, thing.”

The professor’s words ring throughout the classroom. It’s a small one, housing only twenty-eight students for the summer course, but naturally they’re the most eager of your classmates. You recognize most of them — the history major itself is not very popular at this school as it is. But that’s not to say you’re friendly with most of them, so when the professor announces you’re to pair up before they explain the project any further, you immediately blurt out your best friend, Lydia’s, name. Only she’s holding onto the hand of her fiancé, looking up at him like the sun quite literally shines out his ass.

“Babe…” she starts, frowning piteously, and you raise a hand, not needing her to finish, “You could try Demi —”

“Demi is working with Paul,” Chase tells you both, curling his girlfriend closer to his chest. “I saw her run over and grab him.”

Damn you, Chase. A forced smile tugs your lips. It’s not like the morning can get any worse. “No, no — it’s fine. I can work with…” Your eyes circle the room, a groan of frustration spilling from you when you find most of your classmates already pairing off. You start to question if you spoke too soon, if things could actually get worse, and then — “Aemond Targ. Uh —” A pause. “Aemond?”

“Yes?” he asks, sounding bored as ever, head rising from whatever he’s scribbling in his notebook.

Aemond…well, you wouldn’t call him your friend. He’s really not anyone’s friend in class; mostly keeps to himself, aquiline nose always in a book of some sort. Even now, he regards you with very little care. His lips are pursed, in disapproval if you had to guess, the scar bisecting his prosthetic eye (you only know this because people gossip around campus), pinkened against pale flesh stretched taut along angular features, silvery blonde hair wavy against his forehead.

It’s unfortunate he’s so beautifully handsome, sculpted like the gods of old, and yet so…

“You called my name,” he repeats, tucking his book beneath his notebook. You can barely make out ‘weaponry’ scrawled on the binding. Curious. His eyes trail down to where yours have seemingly chosen to linger. “Hm.”

Lydia presses at your lower back in your clear hesitance that has you rooted on the spot under his stare, pushing you forward, whispering. “He’s not going to bite.”

Swallowing thickly, you laugh, muttering, “I was wondering if you wanted to…be my partner for the project.” Aemond glances over his shoulder, looking to see if you’re truly talking to him, and you wish for the ground to open up beneath you at the way he eventually returns his focus to you and smirks. Your stomach plummets, chest burning with your growing embarrassment. “Look — if you’re going to make fun, I —”

“I won’t prolong your evident misery. I’ll be your partner.” And he says it with that accent of his, that reminds you he’s not from New York, that he’s seen the other side of a world you’ve only read about in books.

“It was not evident misery,” you grumble beneath your breath as you stalk over to the chair directly beside his, hearing the professor’s voice call out above the din that everyone is to make their way back to their seats. With a thump, you drop down beside Aemond, not missing the way he shifts further away from you — as though the very thought of you simply touching might ruin his day. “I am quite mysterious, I’ll have you know.”

“What?” he asks, leaning in a little toward your ear.

“Hmpf.” Your arms cross, head tips upward in defiance, and lean back against the chair, awaiting further direction.

All in all, the project is simple. Instead of the traditional six weeks spent in a classroom, you are to use the six weeks of class to work on your summer project. The professor does not care how it is done — be it worked on literally together, or within a shared document. They just want it to be a culmination of actual interest. Something not derivative. Something new, invigorating, something you’re passionate about.

Which you suppose is simple enough, but through your limited scope of exploration in the last twenty something years of your life…by the time you return to your shared apartment later that evening, Lydia is ready to glue your fingers together because of your incessant tapping on the keyboard. Because as it stands, you have no idea what you feel passionate about.

“You're going to destroy your backspace button.” She’s grimacing as she pours a glass of wine, handing you one, then pours another for herself.

“The letters are already worn off,” you point out, sipping gratefully at the rosé. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because you enjoy your major,” Lydia states plainly, dragging you over by the hand to the living room couch, “because you care. Because you’ve been dreaming of taking this class for ages and convinced us all to take it with you, because you said it’s the best the school has to offer.”

Pouting, you whine, “I want to care less.”

“Have you texted Aemond? Maybe he has ideas?”

You level her with a frown. “He actually hates me. I think he took pity on my soul to work with me; he could see a sad, lonely me standing in the corner with no partner. It was like gym class back in high school all over again —”

“Now that is dramatic,” Lydia giggles, choking a little on her wine. “From where I was standing, he only looked at you with mild disdain.”

“You know, from Aemond Targ, that’s practically a love declaration. Move over, Mr. Darcy.”

Groaning, you press your fingers to the bridge of your nose and tug out your phone. His contact is there, in the form of ‘Ae-hole’ — for asshole, naturally. It brings a little — slightly evil — grin to your lips that has Lydia leaning in closer to see what it is you’re laughing at.

“How should I start…?”

Lydia stares into your eyes, giving you an ‘are you serious’ look. “Hello might be a good start, you weirdo.”

Waving a hand in front of you with a swirling flourish, you begin, “Hello, Partner. I hope this is a good time — although, seeing as it’s seven on a Friday night…I would say it’s a little sad if you’re already sleeping —”

“Babe,” Lydia warns, cutting you off.

Backspace, backspace, backspace. “I hope you’re having a good afternoon. Thank you again for showing mercy, it means a lot to little ol’ me. You’re probably wondering why I’m texting you on a Friday night. Well — shit! I accidentally sent it.”

There’s silence in your shared apartment, and you chug the remainder of your wine glass in anticipation. Holding out a pathetic hand, Lydia snatches your cup and refills yours and her own, dropping back down beside you on the sofa. Little dots appear on your phone screen, and then —

Ae-hole: I am wondering why you’re texting me at all, actually.

A knife emoji is typed out, but Lydia tuts and you backspace. “I wasn’t actually going to send it,” you tell her, blanching.

“Sure you weren’t.”

Ae-hole: I’m assuming you want to talk about the project?

“He is so charming,” you drawl, practically seething at your phone.

Fingers press against the keyboard, striking swiftly with your next words — and backspacing the ones that are a little more colorful and mildly offensive (Lydia’s suggestion, naturally). In the end, you settle on: ‘I was wondering if you had any ideas. Anything you’re passionate about? You seem…refined and…worldly. Hop, skip, and a jump across the world and all of that. Isn’t that the saying?’

Ae-hole: I’m from England, not Mars.

“Well isn’t he a ray of bloody sunshine,” you grind out, pressing your phone screen to your forehead in exasperation. “This is useless.”

Another text comes through a second later.

Ae-hole: I’ll think about it. Let’s bounce ideas back and forth over the weekend. How is that?

——

Clothes bounce and roll around in the dryer when the first texts come through. Aemond’s suggestions are intriguing enough, sure, but you’re hours deep into two week’s worth of laundry, so it shouldn’t really be much of a surprise when you hop up onto one of the folding tables and type out. ‘How do we feel about Khal Drogo?’ — Just to get a rise out of him.

The buzzer goes off on your machine and you begin folding when he finally replies. Part of you wishes you might see the look on his face when he reads the message to himself, watching those little bubbles appear and disappear multiple times before he must have finally hit ‘send.’

Ae-hole: Are you quite…passionate about Khal Drogo?

A giggle spills from you, drawing the attention of a woman reading a gossip magazine that touts the latest scandal. Her lip curls at the loud interruption, and you wonder if you might get kicked out of your favorite laundromat should a folded pair of socks end up as a projectile object.

‘I mean…have you seen the old drawings? Call me Khaleesi, am I right?’

His reply comes quickly. Almost instantly, really.

Ae-hole: Striking Khal Drogo and any related topics off the list.

‘Rude.’

Ae-hole: I didn’t complain when I crossed out ‘Free Folk migration patterns’ earlier.

‘Aemond, no one is passionate about that.’

——

It’s Saturday night and you’re out to dinner with Lydia and Chase at some fancy Italian restaurant that definitely pushes your ramen noodle budget.

They’re talking wedding plans, bridesmaids dresses, and groomsmen and you’re scrolling through social media, flicking past reels and memes and you land on a history meme with a familiar face that has you reaching for your cell phone.

‘What about this: Hodor, man, myth, or legend that he is?’

You attach the photo for reference, at which Aemond reacts with a thumbs down.

Ae-hole: Sometimes I wonder if you’re being serious or if you’re just trying to screw with me.

Lydia raises a brow your way, head tilting at the smile that unknowingly blooms across your lips. “Are you good over there?”

“Huh?” Lifting your head, you snap to attention, “What were we talking about?”

“We were talking about our entrance songs. I wanted to get your opinion…” Lydia trails off, leaning over to try and see who you’re texting. You tuck it away into your back pocket, feeling your cheeks burn hot. “But it seems like you’re elsewhere. It’s fine, I’ll let you keep your secrets, you weirdo.”

And maybe, just maybe, as Lydia leans back in to throw her ringed hand over her fiancé’s arm, you sneak off to go to the bathroom to text back your history partner.

‘Hodor is NEVER a laughing matter.’

It’s worth it, if only because it’s the most fun you’ve been in a bit…even if he doesn’t reply.

——

“I always hated this next season,” Lydia sighs, leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve lined around the floors for your TV binge night.

“We can stop after this one if we want? Pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“No,” she decides, “let’s keep going.”

These nights have become a weekly thing over the years — a way to keep the ‘Sunday Scaries’ at bay. You wonder how soon that’ll change once she’s married and living with Chase, but decide not to dwell on that for now.

Instead you return your attention to the screen, where Jon Snow and Danaerys Targaryen are sleeping together for the first time, unknowing of his parentage. It’s a loose retelling and wrought with historical inaccuracies, you know this, of the history of Westeros — but it’s also highly addictive. Unfortunately, the last season of the show adaptation, right before it was sadly canceled, truly left much to be desired. Still, it remains your favorite, and you rewatch religiously with your best friend, often turning to it as a comfort show.

It’s only then, your body cocooned beneath a fluffy blanket, that a sudden idea strikes you.

‘What about dragons?’

Your mind jumps to the CGI dragons that you’ve seen on your screen, the ones you’ve seen in textbooks and children’s books growing up. Great beasts with large wings — tails, talon, and teeth that could rip one to shreds. People rode on them back in the day, soaring high above the world, immense power beneath them — one with them.

Ae-hole: The Targaryen family?

‘Yeah, don’t you find all of that so interesting? I mean, they rode on dragons, Aemond!’

The next episode of your show begins, Lydia’s face awash in the bright light as the HBO logo flashes there in the reflection of her glasses. “Have you guys settled on a topic yet?” she asks, gesturing to the phone in your hand.

“Not yet,” you mutter, reading his next message. “But I think we might be getting close.”

Ae-hole: It was also a really…abysmal time. All of it, really. Starting from Aegon and ending with Daenerys.

‘Killed by her lover.’

Ae-hole: How most love stories end, it seems.

‘Don’t know what kind of love stories you’ve read but — anyway! I feel like there is so much there. We could start researching and try to find something that intrigues us?’

Ae-hole: I admit it’s an area I haven’t read much about. It’s one of those things in classes they talk about so briefly. Which was always so strange, seeing as not only did the family line die out — but the dragons, too.

‘See! Look at us, coming to our first ever agreement. I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your Sunday. We can text tomorrow about when we want to meet up and start honing in on our topic. Sounds good?’

Ae-hole: Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

“Well?” Lydia asks, and you’re smiling, endlessly smiling.

“It seems we have a topic,” you tell her, flopping onto your stomach, reaching into the popcorn bowl to fish out an M&M in the mix of salty goodness. “Finally.”

“You two seem to be getting along,” she says, and it’s the tone in her voice, the searching within it, that has you turning your head and narrowing your eyes. Innocence blooms in the jut of her bottom lip, in the tilt of her head. “What?”

“He’s my partner,” you remind her, shaking visions of his dark and stormy features out of your head when they announce themselves unbidden in your mind’s eye. “And he’s kind of an asshole. Now let me watch my silly history show in peace, woman!”

——

Corner Street Coffee sits a few blocks away from Columbia University, sitting quite literally on a corner of a street. The money isn’t great, but the customers are, and you’ve found that after a few years working here, it’s one of your favorite places to be other than the library studying away.

“What can I get you?” Your voice is bubbly and bright as expected of you.

You’ve been running around behind the glass case for hours, sweat likely dotting your forehead and hair a mess, the morning rush finally behind you, when your next customer appears before you. As you lift your head, air spills from your lungs in a giant rush. Standing there is none other than Aemond Targ in all his glory — as in, he’s dressed down for once. His usual dress shirt has been swapped for a simple black tee shirt that shows off way too much of his arms and a pair of dark wash jeans.

“Is it typical that you stare at your customers for this long?” he queries, head tilting to the side.

“I’ve just never seen you outside of the classroom,” you admit, though that’s not true. If you’re being honest, you’ve seen him at the library often. He keeps to himself there, always settled at a table or on one of the couches, typically positioned by a window to watch the bustling city move and swirl below. Shaking your head rapidly, you continue, “Just…surprised me, is all.”

“Hm.”

“Can I get you a coffee then?” You whirl around, reaching out to grasp a cup in hand. “Black, perhaps?”

“Is that a remark on my soul?” he asks, stepping in closer to the counter.

“Let it be known on the record that you said that,” you laugh, writing out his name on the top of the cup, “not me. So, what does Aemond Targ like to start his…afternoons?” The clock reads noon, you notice as you squint a bit. Fortunately, or unfortunately for you, there are no other customers waiting to be served. Most have settled into their studies or chatting with friends along the many tables positioned around the building perimeter.

“An Americano, black, two sugars.”

Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you expect too much from him, but when you narrow your eyes his way the corner of his mouth twitches — and it’s the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen on his face, and you’ll take it as a small victory to kick off the next few weeks with him.

“I actually came here to proposition you —”

“That sounds sexy,” your coworker, Markus, teases as you pass him Aemond’s cup along to be made.

Aemond ignores him, focusing on you as he continues, “It…might be outlandish. And you can say no, though I’d be a little upset as I’ve already done something impulsive.”

“I’m listening.”

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Come with me to London.”

Your stomach drops, because there’s no way he said what he has. “You say it so casually,” you prattle mockingly, an overly airy lilt to your words, “‘come with me to London,’ he says. I have a job, Aemond. And what are you…rich or something? We’re broke college students, and I’m pretty sure tickets to London are expensive.”

Aemond gives a little dismissive, blasé shrug. So he’s rich, rich.

“His father, Viserys, is quite literally the Hotel King,” Markus interrupts, handing Aemond his coffee over the counter. His lip ring glints as he points to the building across the street and says, “T Hotel.”

You’re contemplating how you haven’t quite put two and two together about the fact you never even realized his name was on a building you stared at every day as your manager, Solene, appears from counting money in the back room.

“Take her off our hands,” Solene orders. “She hasn’t asked for a day since her accident.”

“Hm.” Aemond sips his drink, eying you wearily. “Accident?”

Changing the subject, because that’s not a light conversation at all to be had with a literal stranger, you tell her, “He’s trying to steal me away for a long time…like — well, how long?”

“Five weeks,” Aemond says, like it’s the simplest thing he’s said all afternoon.

Your head whips around, brows high on your forehead. “Five weeks?! You can’t be serious.”

Another shrug. “I figured we needed the time for research.”

Markus whistles. Solene’s lips curl into a feral grin full of scheming and plotting and you want to be mad but your heart swells instead. “She’s due for a vacation. I can’t get rid of her; even when she’s off she’s here.” A pause, and then, “In fact, you’re fired for the next five weeks. Effective immediately.”

Eye twitching, you raise a finger at Markus and Solene. “You’re traitors.” Markus chuckles. “Both of you!”

“Goodbye,” Solene sing-songs, waving at you as you untie your apron from around your waist and toss it onto a nearby hook. “Enjoy London. It’ll be your first time abroad. Take lots of pictures!”

Aemond trails behind you on your way outside, the door swinging shut behind you both with a lyrical chime. He takes it upon himself to grab the nearest chair and pull it out for you, tipping his head in the slightest so you get the memo and drop down onto it. Once you’re settled, he joins on the other side, taking another sip of his drink, anticipating your latest outburst.

“Five weeks?” Heart hammering, you run your fingers along your bare forearm, trying to wake yourself from whatever fantastical dream you’ve found yourself caught within. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot of money,” you remind him, chewing on your bottom lip, “I can pay you back in installments, I just can’t afford it out right at this moment. I just paid my rent and my phone bill and I —”

“Don’t worry about it.” Another sip. “My family flies so much, it was basically free. I always go home for the summer, so I figured I might bring you with me. For the project.”

“Right,” you whisper, voice trailing in the wake of the thoughts swirling around in your head, “for the project. And you’re certain you want me there?”

“Yes —”

“That’s five weeks of constant me. I’m an early riser. I start the day with a run — not really, but maybe I’ll take up running in England.”

“Hm.”

“I also snore. I get car sick on long rides. I’m a serial music-changer.”

“Serial music-changer?”

You nod. “I can’t listen to the same song for more than thirty seconds before changing it. It’s an impulse or something, I don’t know how to stop it.”

“It’s not that unusual,” he states, a little too calmly, “you remind me of my brother, Aegon, in a lot of ways. Will you stop trying to talk me out of my decision?”

Your fingers snap together. “What about your family? Won’t you want to see them?”

“Naturally.” His head dips. “My mother already knows you’re coming with me for the project. She’s asked that you come along — if you’re open to that, of course. She and my father like to host.”

“Oh.” Your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. “I mean…if it’s no trouble —”

“Then it’s settled.” He rises to his feet. “You’ll come?”

Standing to join him, you say, “Yeah.” You grab your things. “I’m temporarily fired anyway, thanks to you.”

He stares at you evenly, eyes glazed over a bit in thought. “Which way is your apartment?”

Your eyes narrow, not quite understanding his meaning. “Uhm…”

“To walk you home,” he supplies, with what you might call a groan, only it’s much more reserved than any sound you might have produced of the same nature.

“Oh, you don’t…” Words trail off at the glare he shoots you. A thumb is thrown over your shoulder, head tipping in the way of home. Aemond dips his head, following your lead. “Thank you.”

The roads are busy even for this time of day, bodies brushing your’s and Aemond’s as you walk. Cars honking greet your ears, the familiar smell of exhaust in your lungs. Summer hasn’t fully rained down on New York City’s streets, but it’s always warmer here — clings in a way that it doesn’t anywhere else. Part of you wants to ask Aemond why he chose to study in the place you’ve lived all your life, but the words dry up in your throat, caught in the nervousness like sticky tar in your belly.

“So you’ve never been out of the country?” Aemond’s voice carries over the chatter of a group of women out to brunch, the open doors of a restaurant spilling sound onto sidewalks.

You haven’t really been much of anywhere. New York, Long Island here and there — Florida, for a girl’s trip. The past few years haven't really been conducive for traveling, as it is.

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p,’ glancing at him over your shoulder. “This will be my first time.”

“Hm.”

It’s quiet again, save for the world around you and the flip-flop of your shoes beneath you. You’re only made aware you’ve arrived at your apartment building when you step up onto the curb in front of it and Aemond calls your name. It sounds so…odd coming from him; coming from someone who you’ve rarely spoken to, but was always aware was living life in the background of yours.

“Oh — this is my place.”

“Okay.” He tosses his drink into a nearby garbage can, and you can’t help the way your eyes linger on the curves of his arms, the defined ridges of muscle there.

“Look, I’m really grateful that you want to bring me home with you but it feels like too much, and I —”

“Please,” he starts, cutting you off, “it’s really nothing.”

To you, to you it’s everything. It’s…an opportunity you’ve never had before.

“Okay.” Your bottom lip settles between your teeth. It’s decided, then. “When do we leave?”

“I’ll be here to pick you up Friday at four for our flight at seven”

“In the afternoon?”

“Morning.”

Your throat bobs with a swallow. “Okay, four in the morning. We’ll get coffee?”

In the light, you think he almost smiles. Almost. “We’ll get coffee.”

“Have a good day,” he says, jolting you from your silent reverie. “Friday, remember.”

“Friday.”

Waving goodbye, you open the door behind you, slipping into the main area and rushing up the stairs leading to your floor. People passing by throw themselves against the stair railing as you barrel past, your shouts of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ doing little against the suddenness of your exhilaration. But you’re on a mission. You’re reeling — spinning like a top, brain moving a mile a minute. Trying to plan outfits in your mind, dreaming of potential excursions, trying to process that you’re finally getting away after long years of being stuck in one place. Sure, you’ll be working on a project as well, but it’s one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ sort of experiences that has fallen into your lap, the kind of thing that only happens in movies, and you’re not going to put it to waste.

Lydia’s watching Love Island without you (rude) as you enter, and just as another bombshell enters the villa, you enter the apartment, shrieking, “You will never guess what just happened!”

——

#aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction

30 notes · View notes