#Pearl had to learn how to trust him as someone who never had a father figure in her life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lily-drake · 3 years

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Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life. An earth where everyone is born with wings. Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed. If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul. Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian. It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6. But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout. Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers. Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that. She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil. Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety. She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance. She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone. He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings. In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed. She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective. He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health. She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects. Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”. Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training. He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base. She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame. She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up. She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother. She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him. Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that. They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone. She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault. She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction. She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else. So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran. She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran. An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away. Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods. She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing. Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground. She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible. She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves. Pearl-like apples growing on a few. She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark. She was cold, it felt very cold. She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones. She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm. Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet. They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started. It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it. What they discovered broke their hearts. There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them. They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care. They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives. Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it. She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital. How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that? It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything. And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in. They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents. It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off. She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before. The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose. There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache. She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad. She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could. The entire room was white and there were bright lights. There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying. She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here. Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up. It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently. Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever. They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her? What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you? If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction. These were randoms, innocents if you will. They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings. Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed? The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings. Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings. She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is. Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does. Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers. She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept. She didn’t want to hurt them though. But maybe she could protect them? Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt? Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did. She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed. Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok. If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread. She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug. She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though. So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted. She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did. They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France. This was supposed to be her new home. The city of light and love. Maybe here, it would stop her curse. It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness. She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one. Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it. It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now. It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere. They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them. They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission. They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings. She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them. Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed. When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them. Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”. She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged. She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up. The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous freak.” And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest. Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero. She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die. She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk. Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings. He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had. Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could. She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings. It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to. When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out. But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch. Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth. Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi. To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections. Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did. Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth. She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it. After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case. Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly. She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with. That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people. Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon. She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. She had abandoned her brother. She betrayed the league. She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use. The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip. Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would. She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*. Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted. During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get. He almost discovered her wings at one point. She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment. Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful. He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once. But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions. They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him. She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE. The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it. She often thought of Damian when she sketched. She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close. She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die? She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well. Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry Marinette! Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that! I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar. She would never lower herself to do that. She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled. She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her. Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something. She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice. She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop. The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next. The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded. Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak? Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying. They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again. She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body. Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined. When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open. She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable. Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were. He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class. She didn’t listen though, she just observed. The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out. He had such lovely wings though, they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them. They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening? Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention. The insults and jeers stopped after that. She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely. They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them. Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously. She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette. Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you. Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did. Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting. When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight. Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room. The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”. Their father was Bruce Wayne?! She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life. No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen. She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop. Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head. Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them. Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air. Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes. She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had. Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers. The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom. But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something! Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.

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demonslayedher · 3 years

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I lost a bet to myself and paid the price by making another demon sibling AU. Was originally just going to be headcanons and doodles, but I wound up writing the parts I felt like. The names of Tengen's siblings are entirely made up. This will come in two parts due to length.

Clicking each bone in his spine, Yogen stood to his full height, taller than Tengen remembered. It wasn't uncommon to go long periods of time without seeing his siblings when they were on their own missions, but Yogen shouldn't had changed that much. "I'll spare you. It wouldn't do for the Uzui clan not to have a head. Now you're the strongest one."

"...Yogen..."

"I wouldn't had been able to take you on, if not for the fact that you'd never have done it if you knew. You should thank me, Aniki. You know what I've spared you? Father was going to make us all have a fight to the death. You'd have done at least half of this."

"What have you done!?"

"I ate them," he laughed, something Tengen had never heard Yogen do in his adult voice. He had the most infectious laugh when they were children, and this rang with the same pleasure, however dissonant. "I was stunned too, at first. When I came to, I had eaten two of them, they were still warm in my mouth, their cells already nourishing mine. But you know what? I decided to eat the others. I was going to kill them anyway, what difference does it make that I should eat them?"

Tengen's face pearled back into a snarl, his eyes flaring.

"One, two, three... Eizen got away before I could bite him, though. That whelp would had done nothing for me. The one I really wanted to eat was the strongest," he said, his glowing white eyes shifting down to their father's fresh corpse. "And now, even he's nothing to me."

Tengen could stand no more of this. "Yogen!!" he screamed and gripped one of the swords at his back, and charged at Yogen all in one motion. A hard sickle burst out of the flesh of Yogen's arm and caught it, but when Tengen pulled his other sword down through Yogen's shoulder and chest, the sound of ripping sinews what different than it should had been. A look over to the injury revealed that the shoulder was repairing itself before Tengen's eyes. When had he learned any technique like that?

The momentary lapse in focus caught him, Yogen swiped up against Tengen's forearm. It felt too varied to had been spiked knuckles--those were his fingertips, he had grown claws. Tengen drew a sword up to lop off Yogen's forearm, and then his brother let out a shrill scream as his features lit up and revealed how contorted they had become. Yogen didn't look human anymore with how his veins bulged and burned. Burned? From what? Tengen took a look over his shoulder to the sun rising and casting light through the wide open door, and when he looked back, Yogen was gone.

---

Tengen watched the flames consume the house and the bodies of his slain family. He had combed it for any trace of Yogen, but his brother left none. Hope though he did that the flames may consume Yogen too, he knew in his gut that he was still out there.

Behind him, Suma sneezed in a gust of smoke that wafted into her face. Hinatsuru handed her a handkerchief, as she and Makio were already covering their faces in case of poison. Tengen didn't bother, he was resistent to most ninja poisons, and the scratches down his forearm were already less swollen. "You three should go back to your homes."

"No!" insisted Suma.

"We're already members of the Uzui clan," said Hinatsuru.

"Your revenge is ours," added Makio.

Hinatsuru made the most important point, they were already seen as his property. He could hear whispers and feel them all being watched; the other ninja clans knew what had befallen the most powerful family, and the Uzui name was now shunned. Even if Tengen wanted to stay, he had no place in the village, and neither did anything that belonged to him. The only thing left for him now was to track his brother down and drag him to hell.

Someone else was approaching, and Tengen reached for one sword. Uneven footsteps. One didn't have the splat of a foot, it was the thunk of wood--a cane, or two canes? A leisurely, but determined pace. Self-assuredness, even for entering ninja territory. A robust heartbeat. Who was coming?

"Well, is that what you all look like? I feel like I've wandered into one of those storybooks," said an old man. He had one missing leg, a full head of hair and moustache to rival it, a grin, and a telltale scar lining the underside of his left eye. "I had always left your kind alone, but I couldn't when I felt the presence of a demon over here."

"Who are you?" Tengen asked, stetching one arm before his wives while the other hand stayed at his weapon.

"You didn't chop its head off, did you, ninja boy? It's long gone by now, you know. It'll hide from daylight. Be even more trouble to find if it's one of your folk."

"How do you know about us?" Makio shot back.

"How do you children not know about demons? Aye," the old man huffed to himself as he set down a stool he carried. He planted his rump on it, then folded his arms. "The name's Kuwajima Jigoro, former Roaring Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corp. I figured this would be out of your expertise, so I've come to help."

Tengen felt in his gut he could trust that. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head, his wives all doing likewise behind him. Jigoro seemed to enjoy that, but insisted they do not. Instead of bowing, he'd appreciate the ladies rubbing his shoulders to display their gratitude, he said.

While Hinatsuru and Makio set about at each arm, Suma kneeled at his remaining foot with a gasp. "Aren't old people not supposed to be this beefy?"

"Can it, Suma!" chided Makio.

Hinatsuru said nothing, but could feel something was different in this man, not only in his physique. Whatever he had to say was going to change their lives more than the previous night already had. They all listened carefully as Jigoro orated about the existence of demons, how they eat humans, how they are near impossible to kill, but also the methods of those who hunt them, with specialized blades and an organization to support them. As he began describing Breath, however, Tengen stopped him. "I already know all that, that's ninjutsu basics. That's not giving me anything I don’t already have."

"Oh? I figured as much. Always made me curious about you pups. So you you've got the basics of Breath technique, huh?"

"It's beyond basic," he shot him an annoyed frown.

"I'll be the judge of that. See that tree over there? That's probably about the strength of the usual demon neck. Go hog wild on it." As much as showing off was against the ninja code, Tengen wasn't in the mood to argue and made short work of that tree, the only sound being the pop of it seperating into two halves. Jigoro gave him a clap, then stood with his cane. "Good accuracy. Spot on. Now you pick one out for me. Take some mercy, though, I'm only working at half-strength." He balanced on his foot and his peg, plopping the end of his cane in his palm to show off that he meant to use it in place of a sword. Tengen hated when other people tried to be show-offs, so he pointed to a tree a few rings thicker than the one he had cut.

The old man eyed it, then slid his good foot through the dirt, and as he leaned forward, clouds of steam rose from his lips. "Breath of Thunder, Fifth Form. Heat Lightning."

The sound hit Tengen so hard that he covered his ears, and the old man was gone--on the other side of the tree, which was not only cleanly chopped, but split itself in half vertically as it fell. A rarity, Tengen's jaw dropped. Jigoro looked back with a fierce grin, knowing he'd have left them all impressed.

Rather than one knee, Tengen planted his palms and face to the ground. "Please teach me this technique, Master."

"When did I ever say I wanted a student like you? You already said you know Breath technique, don't you?"

"You won't teach him?" Suma sat straight up, little tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I only want students with talents I can mold. You're already set your ways and would just try to make Thunder Breathing into what you want. You can't fill a full tea cup, as they say."

Tengen wanted to insist he's do anything to take his revenge, but the old man was right. As he was, he wouldn't be able to unlearn everything he always knew, it was as much a part of him as every experience and memory, like every scar, such as the ones running down his left arm.

"The true nature of Thunder Breathing would escape you, you'd get too caught up in how powerful it looks. You're too flashy!"

His cheeks flushed. "Say that again."

"You're too... flashy? I don't think a ninja should find that a compliment."

"You can't tell him all that and then not train him!" insisted Makio. "Please! There's got to be something you can do! Tengen-sama works really hard!"

"Tengen-sama works harder than anyone!"

"Please, Master. Tengen-sama can think flexibly, please give him a chance."

"I won't! I can already tell he's not the sort of student I'm looking for!" he barked back, and Suma burst out into sobs, while Hinatsuru hid delicate tears and Makio's face turned dark red. Jigoro flinched at the sight of the upset girls, then looked back to Tengen. "I--I didn't come out here to leave you high and dry, you know. I already told you about the Corp, didn't I? That's where you really need to go. I can't teach you Thunder Breathing, but if you really think you can pick up something new, there's an old scroll I've got of an off-shoot Breath. Someone like you might be able to pull it off. What do you say, ninja boy? How about I give that to you and you teach yourself Sound Breathing?"

---

From there, Tengen took much the same course as in canon. When he became a Pillar and had his meeting with Oyakata-sama, he was upfront about his reasons for entering the Corp. Oyakata-sama appreciated his frankness and assured him that the entire Corp would support him if they found any information on Yogen, but Oyakata-sama was also keen on the undercurrent of Tengen's heart; that he was relieved to leave the murderous ways of ninja, and that he wanted to live an upright life. This finally gave words to something Tengen always felt, but thought he had no right to wish for. He and his wives were moved and they swore loyalty to Oyakata-sama.

However, as time went on, there were no clues whatsoever about Yogen. Around the time they all got antsy, Makio finally couldn't stand it anymore and suggested they may never find him. "Think about it," she said. "This Corp is full of strong swordsmen. Someone might had already chopped off his head long before we got here."

While that should had come as a relief, Tengen couldn't help but find the idea frustrating. That revenge was his to take. He could think of only one person stronger than him who might had done it, so he described Yogen to Himejima one day and asked if he remembered seeing a demon like that. Himejima plainly replied that he was blind.

As they began to accept that they may never have closure, Hinatsuru proposed that they be satisfied bagging an Upper Moon. That should be enough for them to earn their peace, she said, and as much as it grinded away at Tengen's heart, he agreed.

In the course of performing Tengen's Pillar duties, they closed in on what was likely an Upper Moon in Yoshiwara. Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma slipped in, but when he lost contact, Tengen went looking for some female Corp members to sneak in and see what was up. That's when he reencountered the boy whose head he meant to spill at the last Pillar meeting, as well as his two annoying buddies. Inosuke would had been satisfyingly flamboyant, if not for the fact that he was gross. The other whelp was named Zenitsu.

"You write that 'Zen' with the kanji for virtue?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Nothing," Tengen replied, never saying anything of it ever again. It didn't take long for him to notice that Zenitsu had ears on par with his own.

The boys managed to get in, and soon the plan went awry. Tengen's first encounter with an Upper Moon broke out, and that went awry in the most horrifically flamboyant of ways. Tengen found himself unconscious, needing to stop his heart to keep the demon poison from spreading, as it was many times more potent than any ninja or demon poison he encountered before. There was fire in the wreckage nearby, he'd be consumed if he doesn't move soon. In the odd space where consciousness was returning to him, his hearing reached into a deeper plain, where he could hear the most carnal thoughts pounding though the bodies of those around him.

Tanjiro was panicking.

No scent! No scent! Upper Moon Five--where did--but--no scent! No scent!!

Tengen could hear Upper Moon Six, in both bodies, but he couldn't hear any other demon. It gave off no sound. He struggled to look in Tanjiro's direction, and was stunned by the sight of a demon partway sticking out of the shadow Tanjiro has cast, guarding Upper Moon Six with a kunai stuck in his arm.

"Sakage!" growled Upper Moon Six. That is not the demon's name. "I don't need you here! Were you intruding on my thoughts?"

"I didn't need to. I heard the cacophony from ages away. You wouldn't had seen wisteria coming anyway."

Upper Moon Six looked to the kunai, while Tanjiro panicked that the poison had no effect on the newly arrived demon.

"Quit with all the fuss. I'd appreciate it if you hurry up and silence that Pillar over there," he turned his glance to Tengen. His eyes had writing in them, but that was Yogen. "I can't be bothered."

Yogen disappeared into the shadow as suddenly as he appeared, and Tanjiro fell forward with a stumble. He'd be a sitting duck like that, Tengen had to go save him, he pushed himself off the ground to--but--but his arm was missing--the scars were torn off-----

---

Yogen had been quick to learn some of the ins and outs of being a demon, but not all the finer details. He gathered from the surrounding demons' fear of the drum demon that the "Twelve Moons" were the most fearsome demons, closest to their progenitor, but didn't those other demons notice that the drum demon couldn't stomach humans as he ate them? That demon was weak, and Yogen wouldn't stand for it. He cut off his head.

It did not kill the demon, who screamed at him with the characters "Lower Six" in one of his eyes, but he shut up quick when Kibutsuji Muzan arrived. Despite warning Yogen that this was not how fights between demons were done and he should kill Yogen for acting without permission, Muzan smilingly decided to allow it, and instructed him to absorb the former Lower Moon Six and assume his role. Muzan did not care for how Yogen's name referenced sunlight, though. He renamed him Sakage on a whim.

Sakage went on to learn very quickly how to please Muzan, and how to climb the ranks. While not immune, he could resist wisteria poison, which Muzan was more than pleased to borrow from him and see how he could try to adopt it into his own cells. Sakage could move between connected shadows, and in spying on the Corp, he picked up on the hand signs the swordsmen used and quickly deciphered them, and openly reported so to the demons that outranked him. With hearing far more advanced that his brother's ever was, he listened to the information shared between crows, piecing apart their language to the best of his understanding.

Lower Moons Three and Two later, he used his spying abilities to identify his next target: Upper Moon Five.

Gyokko was startled by the challenge, and under Muzan's gaze, he could not refuse. Sakage made short work of him, and the other Moons all felt a chill. Akaza's chill was excitement.

Akaza wasted no time in chatting up the new Upper Moon, for Sakage likewise had a stated hatred for weaklings. While Sakage did find it a bit of a bother, especially since he knew he was a long way from ever being able to pose a real challenge to Akaza, he learned that the quickest way to stop Akaza from pestering him was to spar. Akaza loved to chit-chat even while sparring, though, and this became a useful way for Sakage to catch up on a hundred years of gossip about the other Upper Moons.

While it did feel they had somewhat of a friendship, one day they got on the topic of poison. "I hate people who use poison," said Akaza, between punches. "It's as cowardly and low as you can get."

Sakage, who could create a myriad of weapons from his cells as needed and always laced them in poison, was not offended, but disagreed. "I see no problem in being effective."

This gave Akaza pause, and an uncomfortable drop in his stomach. He excused himself, and bothered Sakage not so often after that.

Muzan was typically pleased with Sakage, which made Hantengu tremble that the ambitious demon had it out for him next. When Muzan was in a foul mood after Upper Moon Six's defeat, Sakage was likewise in a bad mood for the annoyance he encountered out there, someone who should had stayed hidden away instead of bearing free his inherently show-offy personality by joining the Demon Slayer Corp, especially since he was sure to have his ears set to the ground now for any new sign of him. He was certain Tengen witnessed him. But, for as much of an insult as it was to the Upper Moons that Gyutaro let him live, Tengen wouldn't be much of a threat anymore.

Still, Sakage knew to keep his cool. He had news to report, and he was certain of his deciphering. When he declared where the swordsmith village was located, Muzan had no doubts, and sent Hantengu alone. "Now why couldn't you find that, after all this time?" Muzan smirked to Nakime. She, not being of any rank, could merely apologize. Sakage took no pleasure or pride in looking better than a peer whom he knew he was stronger than. Muzan's mood could never be sustained for long, though, and he very soon frowned back to him. "You've brought no word of the blue spider lily."

"My apologies."

"Aren't ninja supposed to have knowledge of these things? Weren't you of a high ranking clan? Go back and order them to search."

And, at that moment, a dangerous thought escaped Sakage's inner filter, it leaked though to his mind at the same moment it leaked to Muzan's: But I can't show my face back there.

The way Muzan's face bent with disgust drove more terror into Sakage than when he was still a human and first encountered the demon lord. He felt certain of a swift death, but Muzan let him be. Sakage was still too useful. But, Sakage knew he'd have to crawl back to Muzan's graces by providing something of more use to him. He had to unveil a secret of more value.

Tengen, who remained active despite missing an eye and a hand, was present at an emergency Pillar meeting. Tokito and Kanroji were bandaged up, and they recounted how the swordsmith village was attacked by Upper Moon Four. With two Pillars and a few other reliable Corp members all working together they defeated him well before daybreak, but not before discovering an ancient ability known only as "the mark."

As he was now, Tengen knew he'd never attain this. What bothered him more was how the demons found the village, so hidden that he'd have to put his mind to it to have figured out where it was. He could had resorted to old tricks to figure it out, whether that be silently tracking the smiths after their deliveries or flirting with the Kakushi, but what recourse would a demon have had?

'I heard the cacophony----'

A demon may have had ears that rivaled his own, or were better!

Feeling sure of which demon it may had been, he set to thinking of what he would do next. If the demon moved in shadow, listening for the Corps' secrets, what would be a bigger target than the swordsmith village?

Oyakata-sama!

"Uzui-san, are you alright?" asked Himejima. "You seem quiet today."

"You look pale," added Kanroji.

"I'm jealous I won't get one of those flashy marks," he lief without flaw. "We all know I can't take any demons on like I used to. Maybe I don’t belong here."

"Uzui, what sort of talk is that?" Iguro looked to him with his flamboyant dichromatic eyes wide, and brows knit tight over them. "This isn't like you."

"I've got a different sort of mission to go on, I'll see myself out. You all stay here and keep each other company discussing this."

"Then I'll excuse myself here as well--"

"Not you, you've got no excuse," Uzui forced Tomioka back to a seated position by pressing on his head.

In conducting his own investigation, Tengen set his crow to work investigating from the sky. What the crow learned, tracing a few leaks and scolding the birds involved, was that their mid-air communications may had been what spoiled the secret location. This confirmed Tengen's suspicion about Yogen's hearing. He had a feeling about some other spoiled secrets too, and in following up with Corp members involved in previous mishaps, he concluded that the secret hand signals had been divulged.

(Read the conclusion reblog here.)

#please reblog from the conclusion post thx #tw blood #tw violence #tw cannibalism

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bang-tan-bitches · 4 years

Text

Title: Beloved

Word Count: 17.4k

Rating: M

Genre: Drama/Thriller/Smut

Warnings: Yandere Behavior, Violence, Blood, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Hint of Dubious Consent, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cream Pie, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Mild Dirty Talk

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi X Reader

Summary: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win

Written By: Admin B

Note: This was entirely inspired by Daechwita and everyone should thank A for indulging my madness and encouraging me

“Are you even listening to me?”

You jerk at the sound of your younger sister’s voice, the long carriage ride has made you sleepy. You glance over at her and give her an indulgent smile, “I’m sorry, darling. I can only listen to you wax poetic about his Imperial Highness’ esteemed looks for so long before I lose interest.”

You can’t help but laugh when Ara snaps her fan closed and tries to hit you with it, but you block it with your own fan.

“Stop or you’ll wrinkle your dress!” You giggle, “Then what will his majesty think of you?!”

She sits back in her seat, but you can see her eyes are shining with laughter. She looks positively breathtaking in her pale pink ceremonial dress. Her hair is beautifully styled with pearls and ribbons laced throughout. Her maids really made her as eye catching as possible. When the decree was first announced that all single ladies of marriageable age were invited to the palace on behalf of the imperial princess to find a bride for his majesty, you were concerned. You know Ara had fallen hopelessly in love with the emperor the one and only time she saw him, having begged father to take her to court with him two years prior. Ever since then she had this fairy tale dream in her head that they were meant to be together and you were terribly afraid of her getting hurt.

“He really is beautiful,” her eyes are dreamy as she glances out the carriage window, “did I tell you how his hair is so pale that it practically shines like moonlight?”

“Yes, yes,” the sarcasm clear in your voice, “He is the most handsome and benevolent ruler our land has ever seen!”

“He is,” you sister insists, “even with the scar!”

“He has a scar? I thought that was just a rumor.” You look out the carriage window to see how far you are from the palace. The ride seemed longer than usual, but that could have just been your boredom with the topic. You had no interest in politics - not that that had stopped your father from teaching you - and avoided going to court as much as possible. You had never even been in the presence of the emperor or the imperial princess. Ara had no interest in politics either, but that didn’t stop her dreams of becoming Empress.

“Oh! It’s not a rumor!” Your sister straightens her posture, “There’s a scar that covers his right eye! He got it during the great war when he was still the crown prince.”

“Why didn’t he -”

“Why didn’t he have the Imperial healers treat him and remove the scar?” Your sister cuts you off before you can finish your question, “He wanted a reminder to never show leniency. He was betrayed by some of his own men that weren’t loyal to the crown. He slaughtered not only the betrayers, but also their entire families.”

You furrow your brows and fix the long sleeves of your ceremonial dress, uncomfortable with the emperor’s apparent brutality, “Sounds cruel.”

“It’s not cruel. He had to ensure that no one would try to get revenge. He was protecting our kingdom from those that would try to take it!”

“Of course, of course,” you placate your sister and roll your eyes at her fervent defense of his highness.

“Don’t roll your eyes, I’m terribly sorry everyone can’t be as noble as your dear Namjoon.”

You frown, “First of all, he is Lord Kim and he deserves your respect. Secondly, he isn’t my dear anything. Nothing has been finalized. There has only been talk of marriage, but no contracts are in place.”

Ara scoffs, “Everyone knows he absolutely adores you. His eyes get all big and his cheeks turn bright pink whenever he sees you.”

You smile wistfully and look down at your lap, “He is rather adorable.”

“Mmmhmm and if it was up to him you would already be married and probably with child.”

“Ara, it is impolite to discuss such things.” You scold gently, “What if someone overheard you?”

“Who?” Ara dramatically looks around the carriage before resting back against her seat, “Who can possibly hear us? There is only me and you in this carriage. No one is going to hear us.”

“Still, you need to be appropriate, you cannot slip up at the palace.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, Ara with closed eyes gently fanning herself while you contemplate how to bring up what’s been weighing heavily on your mind. Your younger sister was spoiled and had always gotten her way, even you were guilty of indulging her every whim. You were terribly worried that she would not adjust to court life well. Your understanding was that the women could be even more vicious than the men and you needed to prepare her.

You chew your lip before deciding to broach the delicate topic, “I heard another rumor about your emperor.”

“Mmm… what’s that?” Ara opens one eye to look at you.

“I heard,” you lean forward and lower your voice, “that his harem is… extensive.”

Ara pouts adorably, “It is. Apparently he has over 300 concubines.”

“300? That has to be an exaggeration. No man would want 300 concubines. Although,” you continue quietly, “he is the emperor and a large harem would show off his wealth and power. Does he have a favorite among them?”

“Ugh,” you watch Ara’s eyes darken in anger, “Concubine Nam In-Suk. She is his favored concubine and I heard the only reason she wasn’t named his empress is because Imperial Princess Min would not allow it.”

“Why would the emperor care what his elder sister thinks?” You already know the answers to all these questions, but you hope that asking them will help Ara realize what she needs to do to secure her place as empress. The carriage starts to slow, you were almost to the palace and wouldn’t have much time alone to prepare her going forward and no time alone once you’d arrived.

“She is his advisor and closest confidant. He trusts her with everything.”

“Ara,” you grab your sister’s hand and give her a meaningful look, “It is very important that you gain the favor of Imperial Princess Min. If you have her blessing, you will not be denied. Most of the silly girls will be striving for Emperor Min’s attention, not realizing that the imperial princess is making the final choice.”

Ara nods her head, determined. “I will gain her favor.”

“Also,” you know she will hate what you are about to suggest, but it has to be done, “You need to become friendly with Concubine Nam.”

“Never!” Ara gasps and tries to pull away, “As soon as I’m chosen as empress I will make him disband his harem!”

“Ara, you cannot!” You lean close and let the severity of your demand bleed into your tone, “You must become friendly and show you are not a threat.”

“But I am a threat…” she pushes her lip out in a pout.

You squeeze her hand, “I know, darling. But court politics are not that different from bedroom politics. He will not get rid of his harem just because you demand it. If Concubine Nam thinks she can manipulate and play you, she will be less of a threat. She has his ear and his favor. Let them think you are stupid little girl with stars in her eyes. It will bend them to your will.”

“But,” Ara’s voice is quiet, “I want him to love only me.”

“Oh my beloved Ara,” you hold her close to you, “these things take time. Once you bed him and provide an heir, you will secure your place at his side. He will have to love and cherish only you. How could he not?”

Her smile is blinding when the carriage stops outside the palace gates.

-0-0-0-

“Relax,” you whisper, “you are the most beautiful lady here. You have nothing to fear.”

Ara releases her bottom lip and nods subtly. When you had arrived at the palace earlier that day, you were welcomed inside to a large hall filled with other single young ladies and their chaperones, all from the most prominent families in the kingdom. Imperial Princess Min herself greeted everyone and announced that a welcome banquet would be held that evening. You were then ushered to your rooms where you could refresh yourselves before the evening. The Daisy Courtyard would serve as your temporary home for the next few weeks. It was a smaller courtyard, but it was beautiful and secluded and you were thankful to learn that it was nowhere near the concubine courtyard.

It was almost impossible to remember how quiet the courtyard was now.

Now, in the palace banquet room awaiting the arrival of the emperor for what felt like hours with the crowd growing more restless by the minute, you dearly missed the seclusion. Imperial Princess Min was present, drinking wine and enjoying the performance of the dancers brought in for entertainment. If she was upset with the late arrival of her brother, her face did not show it.

The music abruptly stops and everyone quiets down. The large golden doors at the back of the room are opened and an imperial servant steps in, placing their fisted hand over their heart, they bow and announce, “His Royal Highness, Emperor Min Yoongi, 37th Emperor of the Min Dynasty.”

Everyone immediately bows, giving reverence to the Emperor. He is dressed in the darkest black with gold dangling from his ears, neck, and fingers. His blond hair is pulled up into a high topknot and a black headband is across his forehead.

You notice a beautiful woman trailing a few steps behind him. She is covered in diamonds. They glitter from her shiny black hair down to the long train of her bright purple ceremonial dress. The dress itself is decorated in patterns of golden tigers, matching the pattern of the emperor’s black robe.

By the clenching of Ara’s hands, you realize that this must be Concubine Nam. You discreetly nudge your sister and mouth for her to relax.

The emperor takes his seat on his golden dragon throne, while his favored concubine sits obediently at his feet. His presence is overpowering and you can feel his displeasure radiating throughout the room.

“So… I was told that one of you will be this emperor’s bride and empress consort.” Emperor Min’s voice is deep and controlled, but the underlying fury is unmistakable. You can feel his eyes trail over the room, “Do you really think that one of you will enrapture this emperor? Do you truly believe one of you will become my chosen?”

Everyone is deathly silent, afraid of angering his highness even more. You can feel his penetrating gaze stop on you. You did not dare look upon the face of the emperor. You knew the rules of the court. You keep your eyes lowered and wait for his eyes to move past you.

They don’t.

You can still feel him staring at you and after several silent minutes you hesitantly look up and meet his eyes. You feel your breath catch in your throat. He is startlingly beautiful. His features are delicate but his scar provides him a hint of roguishness that accentuates his already extraordinary beauty.

His gaze is intense and you can feel his angry aura disappear to something unreadable. His dark eyes are burning with something as a devilishly handsome smile spreads across his face.

You quickly lower your eyes and ignore the chill down your spine and the heat spreading across your face. You now understand how your sister could be so enraptured with one look.

The emperor laughs, startling you into looking again. He’s staring at his sister and smiling. You can see Concubine Nam’s face screwed up, but staring at the floor. You look away quickly before he can feel your stare. His voice is filled with warmth and something else, something unsettling, “Maybe this emperor will finally meet his bride amongst the ladies here today. Rise and enjoy the welcome feast.”

Immediately servants present platters of food to the various tables and the music starts again. You ignore the burning gaze you feel on you and direct your attention to Ara.

“Make sure you eat. You have to be strong if you plan to carry the next heir of the kingdom.” You add more food to her plate.

“Yes, yes,” Ara giggles and pushes your hand away, “I could feel him staring in our direction. Did you feel it too?”

You force a smile, “Of course. How could he not stare at you. I told you that you were the most beautiful lady here.”

When it’s your turn to introduce yourselves to the royal family, you make sure to keep your head low and only make eye contact with Imperial Princess Min once you’re allowed to rise. Next to you, your sister does the same, following your example, even as you feel the hot eyes of the emperor on you once again. Ara pays a pretty compliment to the Princess, and you smile proudly when the Princess laughs delightedly and asks for your names.

“Oh, I remember you. And your father.” Princess Min says, a delicate finger resting on her bottom lip. She shares a look with her brother and you can feel the hateful eyes of Concubine Nam on you and your sister. You ignore her. You needed Ara to win over Princess Min before she won the hearts of anyone else. “I look forward to getting to know you once again. Both of you.”

You smile, and bow again before moving on to let the others greet the royal family.

Ignoring the heavy weight of Emperor Min’s gaze, you try to keep your sister distracted and engaged during the remainder of the banquet. For every goblet of wine your sister has, you make sure she also has a goblet of water. You don’t want her embarrassing herself in front of the other eligible ladies. You relax once the emperor’s gaze is no longer focused on you and take the chance to glance towards the throne, noticing the emperor in a deep discussion with his sister. The imperial princess has a strange smile on her face and is nodding her head along to whatever his highness is saying. You also notice that Concubine Nam is nowhere to be seen.

“Where did Concubine Nam go?”

“What?” Ara quickly looks around the large hall, her voice tinged with excitement, “Concubine Nam? His highness must have sent her away.”

"Strange..” you take a delicate bite of the fresh dumplings brought out by the servants, smiling a bit at how excited Ara is to find her possible rival missing, “I thought she never left his side.”

“Well…” Ara is interrupted by the arrival of an imperial maid. The maid bows her head respectively and holds a silver tray with a folded golden parchment.

You grab the parchment and slowly open it, quickly read the contents, fold it and place it back on the tray. “Please tell your mistress we accept.”

The maid bows and scurries away. You watch her go and keep a calm mask on your face, even as your heart is racing. You knew the point of these banquets and festivities was to find the Emperor a bride, but to receive an invitation so quickly… You notice many of the young ladies in attendance are watching and you refuse to show any sort of emotion.

Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win. For Ara.

Ara grabs your hand under the table where no one can see, “What was that about?”

“Ara, did you bring that pretty pale green dress that grandfather gifted you for your birthday last year?” You take a sip of your wine, and keep your tone low.

“Of course.” Ara nods her head and grabs some fruit slices from one of the platters on the table, but by the tenseness of her shoulders, you could feel her excitement. You would have to instruct her on how to hide it better.

“Good. Wear it tomorrow.” You squeeze her hand, “we are invited to the morning meal with Imperial Princess Min.”

-0-0-0-

Imperial Princess Min’s courtyard and private rooms are absolutely gorgeous. Everything is draped in golds and pastels and smells of the fresh flowers that are placed throughout her rooms. The three of you sit at a finely crafted table in her pavilion, the only sounds are the bubbling of the large fountain nearby and the tinkling of the platters of food as they are placed upon the table before you.

“Thank you for joining me this beautiful morning.” Princess Min smiles sweetly at you both, once you rise from your bow, gesturing for a maid to pour tea, “I do hope you enjoy the meal.”

“We are honored to be invited by her majesty for a meal. Thank you.” You bow your head reverently and sit in the chair the maid has pulled out.

“Yes, thank you, your highness.” Your sister follows suit. The plates are quickly set with delicious smelling food, but you can only sip your tea, taking your cue from the princess who has barely glanced at her plate.

“Tell me,” Princess Min takes a dainty sip of tea, “Are you enjoying your time at the palace?”

“It is very beautiful here. We are forever indebted to the emperor and the imperial princess for allowing us to visit.” You keep your voice soft and your sister nods along, her cheeks slightly puffed with the food she has in her mouth.

“And your rooms…” Princess Min continues, directing a maid to put some kimchi on her plate, “are they to your liking?”

“Yes your majesty. The Daisy courtyard is beautiful. Thank you for gracing us with such lovely lodgings.”

The princess inclines her head briefly and smiles, “What do you think of the emperor?”

“Oh, he is wonderful. The best ruler our empire has ever seen.” Ara gushes enthusiastically, “May our emperor live ten thousand years!”

You and Princess Min share a small smile, both seeing that Ara is completely infatuated with his highness. You take a small bite of the delicious food on your plate as Ara continues to praise the emperor.

“And you?” Princess Min interrupts your sister and turns her gaze on you. Her dark eyes are so similar to her brother that it catches you off guard for a moment, “What do you think of the emperor?”

You didn’t understand why but you feel like your answer holds more weight than your sister’s. You lick your suddenly dry lips, smile demurely at the imperial princess and respond as blandly but nicely as possible, “His highness is a most generous and benevolent king.”

“That he is.” Princess Min smiles and glances at your sister, “And what are your thoughts on his harem?”

Your sister is quiet for a moment and you can see her struggling with finding what she wants to say, you gracefully answer for her, “I’m sure my sister would be most grateful to have others help serve the emperor.”

“Yes!” Ara nods eagerly, “I am most grateful that the emperor has many to keep him company.”

Princess Min hides a giggle behind her hand and you tilt your head, curious what could make the Princess giggle like that.

“Indeed. You may be grateful for the… help.”

Your eyes widen but Ara continues to look confused. You share a look with the Princess before she continues, “My brother, the Emperor, has a… healthy appetite.”

As if summoned by your discussion of him, your meal is interrupted by the arrival of a servant stepping into the pavilion, “His Royal Highness, Emperor Min Yoongi, 37th Emperor of the Min Dynasty.”

You and Ara quickly place down your chopsticks and stand from your seats to bow properly.

“You may rise.” The emperor’s voice is deeper than you remember. He is dressed in an informal black robe patterned with crimson lotus flowers. Thick golden necklaces rest against his collarbones and his pale hair is pulled up into another topknot. You notice that his long, golden earrings aren’t as extravagant as the ones he wore the night before. You and Ara quickly return to your seats.

“Here is my darling sister.” The Emperor gently kisses Princess Min’s cheek before sitting in the empty chair that is placed directly across from you by a servant. “I hope you do not mind if I join you three for the morning meal.”

“Imperial Brother I can see right through you.” Princess Min giggles, “You just want to look at my pretty company.”

You feel your breath hitch when the emperor locks eyes with you, a dangerous smile pulling at his full lips, “Can you blame me? I cannot remember the last time I’ve been so enchanted.”

Princess Min smiles and glances between you and your sister, “The sisters are true beauties.”

“Indeed,” The emperor's eyes flicker to your sister before focusing back on you, “It’s refreshing to know that a father did not exaggerate his claims of his daughters’ virtues.”

"Our beauty does not dare compare to the Imperial Princess." Your sister answers perfectly, the flattery clear in her voice. You see the smile spread across Princess Min’s face, clearly pleased with Ara’s answer.

Princess Min and Ara chatter for a while, the emperor occasionally joining the conversation, but his burning gaze never leaves your face. If anyone else notices his attention on you, they dare not mention it. You stay quiet, trying not to draw any attention away from Ara. You are proud of your sister, she is so poised as she engages in conversation with the royals. You were worried she would freeze up, or even worse, prattle on incessantly about nothing. You motion for a servant to refill your teacup and are startled when the emperor waives the servant away, refilling your cup himself. “Please, allow me.”

Everything stops around you at his actions, even the servants seem to freeze in place. You glance at your sister and the imperial princess, both completely in shock at the emperor’s generosity. Although you notice the imperial princess has a look of unbridled delight in her dark eyes.

“Thank you, your grace.” You incline your head and keep your face impassive. Only years of training drilled into you by your tutors prepared you for this. A lady must always be composed and even though you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you keep calm. You have no idea why his eminence would pour your tea as if he was your servant, but did not dare question his actions.

The silence lasts longer than is socially acceptable and when you dare to look at him, the emperor’s eyes are already focused on you. You can feel Ara’s eyes darting between the two of you, but you can only focus on the emperor. He opens his mouth to say something when your meal is interrupted by several maids rushing into the room. His eyes release you from your trance as he looks away.

You tell yourself that you’re grateful for the interruption.

“Your highness!!!” They all drop to their knees once they see the emperor, their heads touching the ground, “Your highness you must hurry. Concubine Nam has collapsed!”

You glance at the maids in alarm and look back at the emperor, his brows furrowed, “Have the imperial healers been summoned?”

“Of course, your highness.” The head maid answers, rising from her bow. You realize that they must have been the personal maids of Concubine Nam. The other maids remain on their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground.

The emperor turns away from the maids and takes a sip of his tea, dismissing them without words. You watch the head maid bite her lip before taking a step forward, “Please your highness, she is calling for you.”

You can see the displeasure on the emperor’s face. His eyes are angry, but the anger fades when he looks at you. He stares at you for a moment as if he’s waiting for your approval. You swallow and glance at the maids before meeting his gaze, “Your highness, please forgive this lowly maiden for speaking out of turn, but your beloved needs you. You should be at her side.”

“My beloved?” His voice is filled with mirth, and you wonder what is so humorous.

“Yes, your majesty.” You continue, licking your lips. His eyes follow your tongue. “Everyone knows she is your favored concubine. She needs you. You must attend to her.”

“You’re right.” His smile disarms you, again causing your breath to catch. “I must do what my beloved asks of me.”

With a swirl of his black robes, he is gone. The maids and his personal servants trailing behind him.

The silence left by the emperor’s abrupt departure is broken by the tired sigh of the Imperial Princess. “I apologize for Imperial Brother.”

“No, no,” you immediately respond, seeing a forlorn expression on the princess’ face, “It’s alright. Concubine Nam needs him. I do hope she is alright.”

“Yes, hopefully it is nothing serious.” Your sister cannot hide the distaste in her voice at the mention of the concubine.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” The princess laughs scornfully, “Concubine Nam always pulls some sort of devious trick whenever she thinks my brother’s attention might be taken away from her.”

You glance in the direction the emperor disappeared, “Does she?”

“Yes. It’s pathetic.”

You choke back a giggle when the princess rolls her eyes and instantly feel yourself relax.

“She thinks she has my brother wrapped around her finger. Always throwing a tantrum or faking some sort of illness.” She sneers and shakes her head, looking at you as if confiding something, “Several months ago, when I first spoke to my brother about finding a potential bride, I thought for sure that she would do something then, but it looks like the little bitch was just biding her time.”

“That is terrible.” If Ara is shocked at the vulgar language used by the princess, her face doesn’t show it. She is calm and poised and while you know she has a million questions she wants to ask, she is keeping her composure until the two of you are alone in your courtyard. “Hopefully his highness sees through her tricks.”

“She’s not half as clever as she thinks she is. He knows exactly what she is doing, but he indulges her.”

“I’m sure his majesty has his reasons,” you smile at the princess, “have faith in your brother.”

Princess Min stares at you, a contemplative look on her face. You don’t know what she is looking for, but after a few quiet moments she smiles beautifully, “Yes. Of course, you’re right. I have faith in the emperor. He was chosen by the gods to rule our kingdom.”

“May he live ten thousand years.” Ara says solemnly. You and Princess Min murmur in agreement.

“Still,” Princess Min’s voice is resolute as she gestures for a maid to refill her tea cup, “Concubine Nam cannot be trusted. Be careful.”

You sip your tea, pushing thoughts of the emperor’s dark eyes to the back of your mind and wonder just how much danger your sister is in.

-0-0-0-

When you return to your courtyard, servants are rushing around packing your trunks..

“Excuse me,” you feel bad interrupting one of the maids, but you have no idea what is going on and can’t help but fear the worst, “what is happening?”

“My lady,” the maid bows her head, “we have orders to move you and your sister to the Golden Bell courtyard.”

You frown and watch the servants continue to carry out your things, Ara clutches your hand, “On whose orders?”

“His Royal Highness.”

“As you were.” You dismiss the maid and turn towards Ara. You can see the excitement in her eyes. She’s practically vibrating. You nod for her to follow you out to the main yard where an imperial carriage is waiting to take you to your new courtyard.

“Sister,” She whispers, “The Golden Bell Courtyard. That’s closer to Imperial Princess Min’s private courtyard.”

“I know.”

-0-0-0-

The Golden Bell Courtyard is stunning. The main yard is filled with the fragrant Golden Bell flowers and the rooms were at least twice the size of your previous courtyard. Ara is practically giddy with excitement as she throws herself down on the large bed in the room you chose.

“He must already be in love with me.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You were surprised Ara was able to contain herself until the servants left.

“Everything is so luxurious.”

“It is.” You sit yourself at the fancy dressing table in the corner of the room and check your reflection in the bronzed mirror, “You should get used to this.”

Ara giggles and snuggles into the soft bedding. You watch her through the mirror and smile at her behavior. She was still so young and you wish you could shelter her forever. You still worried about her marrying into the imperial family, but you felt a little better knowing that Imperial Princess Min seems to have warmed to her. “You need to thank his majesty at tonight’s banquet.”

“Of course.” Your sister smiles and throws a soft goose feather pillow in the air, “I will make sure to thank him for his hospitality.”

-0-0-0-

Unfortunately, Emperor Min is not at the banquet that night. In fact, you were informed, for the next fourteen days he would not be attending any of the events Imperial Princess Min had scheduled.

You can tell the princess is upset. Her smile seems a little more strained and while she is able to handle everything as a hostess should, you can tell she is very stressed about whatever the emperor is currently handling. You have a strong suspicion it is related to Concubine Nam, but it is not your place to ask questions so you remain quiet. You do, however, try your best to help where you can, becoming a steadfast and loyal companion to her majesty, continuing to have meals with her whenever she requests and spending many afternoons in her pavilion with her. She would ask your opinions of the young ladies from the different households and tell you about what would be required of the empress consort. As the days moved along, the princess dismissed more and more of the potential brides for his majesty until only a handful were left. You were pleased that Ara seems to be the favorite.

You sit across from the Imperial Princess. She sent you a note at the morning meal requesting you to join her in her plum blossom garden this afternoon. You can tell the princess is upset. Her lips are pursed and her fingers are white as she grips her cup of tea tightly. You're afraid the delicate cup might crack.

“Your majesty’s plum blossom garden is beautiful. It must be the most fragrant and lovely plum blossom garden in all of the empire.”

Imperial Princess Min gives you a soft smile. She dismisses the servants and they step back so they are out of hearing range, but close enough to see if her highness requires anything.

“Concubine Nam is with child.”

You are silent for a moment. You keep yourself composed and don’t dare show your thoughts on your face. Your mind is frantically trying to process what this means. How could this have happened? What does this mean for Ara?

You swallow and gently speak, “Princess Min, please forgive this simple one for questioning, but I thought it was against the imperial law for a concubine to bear children?”

“It is.” Princess Min throws her tea cup on the ground in anger, two imperial maids rush over to clean up the shattered mess and prepare another cup of tea for her majesty. Once the servants step away, the Princess continues, “She stopped drinking the herbal tea the day my brother agreed to find a bride.”

“Will Concubine Nam be punished?” You don’t look at the princess when you ask, you focus on the full cup of tea in front of you.

“If she is punished, it won’t be until after she gives birth.” Princess Min takes a small bite of sweet cake, “The little bitch thinks the emperor will make her his empress consort.”

“Will he?”

“No,” Princess Min gives you a reassuring smile, “He will choose someone most deserving.” Her eyes shift as she stares at you until you feel you have to look away. “He’s been diligently working on preparing everything for his chosen consort. That and this unfortunate incident with Concubine Nam has kept him busy.”

You feel relief to know that Concubine Nam’s schemes do not seem to be working. And from the knowing smile the princess gives you, you feel elated that Ara will definitely be chosen as the consort. “What of the child?”

“The child will be recognized as a prince of the kingdom, but not an heir. Only the Empress can provide an heir.” Princess Min still looks unhappy, “I hope this won’t affect things going forward.”

It almost sounds like a question, as if she’s asking you if it will affect things. But you know that can’t be. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This news will be upsetting to Ara, but not all is lost. This can still be salvaged. She could still marry and become the empress. Her child will still be the rightful heir. “No, I’m sure my sister will love any child that his highness produces.”

“Oh, yes, of course your sister would.” Princess Min gives you a curious smile, her dark eyes shining as if she’s amused. She takes your free hand in hers, “I hope I can request your confidence in this matter.” She says and gives your hand an almost too tight squeeze, “This must not be told to anyone.”

“Of course,” You nod your head solemnly, “I won’t say a word.”

-0-0-0-

The Emperor continues to absent himself from any events involving the possible consorts for the next several days. Even though it had yet to be announced, you knew he had already decided on an empress consort, therefore he did not need to attend any of the lavish events and parties his sister had scheduled. Though as the days progress and nothing more happens, you grow more and more concerned over Ara’s position until finally you are moved again to an even larger, more extravagant courtyard.

The Mugunghwa Courtyard.

The Mugunghwa Courtyard was reserved for the empress consort and is located directly next to the emperor’s private courtyard. The servants treat you and your sister like royalty, you are given the same respects the emperor and his sister are provided. Ara is enjoying the envious glares she receives from the other ladies and you allow her to enjoy her victory, but remind her to be polite and courteous to the servants because they will be her eyes and ears to what is happening in the other courtyards(including the harem).

Soon after you’re comfortably moved into the Mugunghwa Courtyard, the gifts begin arriving. Some days when you return to your rooms after the festivities, you find fresh Mugunghwa flowers on your bed. One morning you wake up and find a bottle of sweet perfumed oil. You know that it isn’t uncommon for a groom to bestow gifts upon his bride’s family, but you’re a little uncomfortable as the days progress and the gifts become more elaborate. Silk slippers, golden hairpieces, diamond necklaces… it’s all too much. Ara has also been receiving small gifts, flowers and oils. You don’t know why, but you don’t mention the jewelry or clothing to her.

You continue to spend time with Imperial Princess Min, her personal servants would invite you, and only you, to have a private audience with her almost daily. Once, you asked her where the emperor was, as you had not seen him since breakfast almost a week ago. She had smiled at you as if you’d said the one thing she longed to hear, and informed you he’d been out of the palace. Taking care of business. But assures you that he would return soon.

“If you would like, we can invite him to breakfast again.” She takes your arm and giggles, as if breakfast with her brother is against the rules. “But I might get jealous if my soon-to-be sister pays more attention to my brother than me.”

Your heart soars at her words. This is practically confirmation that Ara will be chosen!

She keeps you updated on the goings on with Concubine Nam. The child is growing strong, and Concubine Nam has already started showing a small bump on her otherwise perfect body. While you never wish harm on anyone, you cannot hide your small sense of satisfaction when you're told that Concubine Nam is visibly distraught over the fact that the emperor has not once visited her since she collapsed.

You are still very concerned about Ara finding out about the pregnancy. You have kept your word and stayed silent on the matter, but you know Ara’s bubble of happiness will burst once she is made aware. You spend many of your days touring the multiple gardens of The Mugunghwa Courtyard in contemplation, trying to decide if you should tell Ara what is happening.

You’re taking a leisurely stroll in the hibiscus garden when you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. This happens most days when you’re alone in the gardens, but no one is ever around so you dismiss it as your imagination. You startle when you hear the emperor’s deep voice call your name.

You spin around quickly and meet the burning gaze of the emperor. He’s dressed in his signature black robe, but this one is patterned with dark blue koi fish. His pale hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with a black headband across his forehead. Today he is wearing one long golden earring and a heavy golden choker around his throat.

You briefly wonder if he would adorn his Empress in so much gold.

“Your highness!” You immediately remember yourself and bow low.

You are still bent low and staring at the ground when you see a long black robe come into view. You feel a gentle finger under your chin and your head is tilted up until you’re standing again and staring directly up into the emperor’s perfect face.

He continues to stare at you, his eyes swirling with emotion. His finger moves from your chin to rub along your bottom lip and your eyes close involuntarily. He leans closer and you can smell the clean scent of his skin. You feel his breath on your lips…

The sound of a throat clearing jolts you. You snap your eyes open and immediately step away from the emperor’s personal space. Emperor Min is glaring heatedly at a eunuch who is standing several feet behind him. The eunuch looks apologetic, but you are grateful.

“Your majesty, are you also here to tour the gardens?” You can feel your cheeks heat and you absentmindedly smooth out your dress. “The hibiscus garden is especially fragrant this time of year.”

His eyes are gentle when he looks at you. He gives you a soft smile, “No. I am here to see you.”

“Me? I do not know what I have done to deserve your attention. How can I help his majesty?”

Emperor Min’s voice is serious, “You deserve more than my attention. You deserve everything.”

You turn away from his penetrating gaze, focusing on a nearby flower, “Your highness has been very kind to me and my sister. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Do not thank me.” The emperor chuckles, “I am a king. I always have an ulterior motive.”

You realize he is most likely speaking of Ara. As Ara’s elder sister, you know you have the most influence over her and her opinions. He is trying to gain your favor so she will be more likely to accept his suit, but he must know that Ara is already in love with him. Princess Min would never keep that information from him.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Another gift?” You look up at his handsome face, “I couldn’t possibly accept anything else. You’ve been so generous already.”

Faster than you can blink, his face is so close to yours, you can feel the brush of his lips as he speaks, his hand on your chin and eyes locked with yours.

“I am the emperor. It is my divine right to give what I want, and to take what I want. Do you understand?”

You blink and quickly lower your eyes, unable to bow your head, “Yes, your highness.”

He moves away and you catch yourself before you can stumble from the suddenness of it all.

“Eunuch Ki.” Emperor Min gestures and the eunuch steps forward holding a small wooden box, golden dragons painted on it. Eunuch Ki opens the box and you cannot stop your gasp when the contents are revealed. A beautifully hand carved jade bracelet is nestled within. You can see that your name is engraved in it along with the symbols of beauty and love.

Emperor Min holds out his hand, waiting for you to give him yours. You place your hand in his and watch quietly as he gently pushes up the sleeve of your dress. His hand is so much larger than yours and you shiver when his thumb gently rubs along your wrist.

Eunuch Ki hands him the bracelet and he tenderly clasps it around your wrist.

“Perfect.”

You feel something inside you stir, “It’s lovely.”

“Not as lovely as the wrist it adorns,” he meets your eyes, “it becomes you.”

You know you should pull away, part of you desperately wants to pull away. But he is the Emperor, and you know better.

“Ara loves her gifts too!” You blurt out, trying desperately to control the way your heart is pounding.

His face scrunches in thought and he tilts his head, “Ara… yes. Your sister. I’m glad she enjoys her gifts as well.” He raises your hand, flips it in his, and places a kiss on the inside of your wrist, lips brushing the cool jade beads. “Don’t take it off.” He commands, before leaving you alone once more.

-0-0-0-

After that, you did not go into the gardens alone, always making sure Ara or Princess Min is with you. While you never did run into the Emperor in the gardens again, you still sometimes felt his burning gaze on you, but when you looked around, he was never there.

Today, you and Ara are staying in your own courtyard. You feel that both of you need a break from court. You know you certainly do. You have already had your morning meal in your rooms and were currently relaxing in one of the many drawing rooms. You smile as Ara pricks her finger again on her needlework. “Be careful Ara. A lady's hands should be soft and delicate.”

You can’t hide your laughter at the adorable glower she gives you. “Why do I have to do this? When I’m empress, I’ll have the royal seamstresses do this for me.”

“It’s a good skill to have and maybe your husband would want a personalized gift from you.”

Ara pouts but doesn’t say anything else. You sit in comfortable silence, her trying to embroider and you snacking on small sweet cakes. The days seem to be getting slightly cooler and you were appreciative. You didn’t know how long this consort selection was going to take, but you were already longing for home. You had written several letters to your father, letting him know of Ara’s progress and wanting to hear any news from home. You were hoping maybe your marriage to Lord Kim would be finalized, but unfortunately, there was no news about that. Your father seemed to avoid mentioning Lord Kim at all. As for Lord Kim himself, you sent him a few brief letters asking after his health and wellbeing, but had yet to receive a response. He was normally very quick to reply to your letters, but you brushed off his lack of response due to the fact that he must be very busy.

Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of several imperial servants and a finely dressed eunuch. They are carrying two large golden trunks and place them down in front of you and your sister. The eunuch steps forward and bows low.

“My ladies,” You recognize the eunuch as the emperor’s most trusted servant, Eunuch Ki, the one who was at his side in the hibiscus garden, “His Royal Highness would be most pleased if the mistresses would accept his gifts.”

You and Ara share a look and you quickly stand from the soft, golden sofa, “Thank you, Eunuch Ki. We are honored to receive gifts from his eminence.”

The large golden trunks are opened and you can hear Ara’s gasp of delight. The emperor has provided each of you a ceremonial dress made of fine, silk fabric and beautiful hair ornaments. Ara’s dress is a gorgeous light blue patterned with silver butterflies. The matching hair ornament is a hair pin styled in beautiful swirls of silver and jade, a single butterfly resting on top.

Your dress is colored a rich gold and patterned with black mandarin ducks, diamonds line the long sleeves and train. The matching hair ornament is also a hair pin, but it looks to be solid gold with two mandarin ducks resting on top of a bed of orchids made out of diamonds. You hesitate at the pattern on the dress, unsure if this is a mistake.

“If it pleases the mistresses, his highness requests you wear his gifts to the Grand Banquet tomorrow evening.”

“Of course, we would be delighted.” Ara beams at Eunuch Ki when you don’t respond right away, your eyes still focused on the pattern on your dress.

“Eunuch Ki,” you follow him to the entrance of the drawing room, your voice quiet so others cannot overhear, “I feel there might be a mistake.” You gesture to your dress and your eyes flicker towards an oblivious Ara.

Eunuch Ki eyes you for a moment, his look is heavy and almost pitying, “The Emperor does not make mistakes.”

You swallow hard and nod at Eunuch Ki, closing the door behind him and turn to look at Ara. She’s already holding the dress up against herself and admiring it in the mirror.

The Emperor might not make mistakes, but you were beginning to think you had.

-0-0-0-

You slowly make your way towards the courtyard of the imperial princess. After Eunuch Ki had left last night, you received a summons from the Imperial Princess. She requested you to meet her for afternoon tea the following day before the grand banquet.

This side of the palace was oddly quiet. You knew that everyone was preparing for the grand banquet, so all the activity would be much livelier near the grand banquet hall. You had yet to see that hall, apparently it was large enough to hold all the noble families of the kingdom comfortably.

When you enter her private pavilion, Imperial Princess Min is reclining on a giant resting sofa, a servant girl fanning her.

“Your highness.” You bow your head reverently and wait for her to receive you.

She smiles beautifully and sits up, her dark eyes shining beautifully, as she holds her hands out to you, “I’m so glad you are here.”

“Your Highness flatters me.” You go to her, smiling as you take her hands in your own before releasing them to gesture to the ornately carved tea table in the corner, “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, we have much to discuss.” Princess Min stands up and elegantly makes her way to the table, you follow obediently behind her. Once you are both seated, Princess Min gestures for a servant to pour tea.

“Are you excited for tonight’s banquet?” Princess Min takes a sip of her tea, “I’m so very excited and the banquet isn’t even for me.”

“Of course, tonight is a grand occasion. It deserves to be celebrated properly.” You swallow a sip of tea and look around the beautiful pavilion. “Thank you so much for the hospitality you have shown my sister and I. Your kindness will never be forgotten.”

Princess Min smiles at you and chatters about the drama currently happening in the harem courtyard, Concubine Nam was still holding hope that Emperor Min would choose her as his bride, while the other concubines were furious over her blatant violation of the rules. You listen and chime in when necessary, indulging in Princess Min’s love for gossip.

“What would you do with Concubine Nam and the harem?” Princess Min asks you, her voice curious, “How would you handle this entire scandal?”

“Well,” You ponder over her question for a moment. She had asked you similar questions before, but usually about how you would handle this political issue or that. Never one quite so close to home. You take another sip of tea, deciding how to answer without offending her, “an example would have to be made.”

“What kind of example?” Princess Min tilts her head slightly, her dark eyes swirling with something, “if you had the power, what would you do?”

“If I had the power?” You gesture for a servant to pour you another cup of tea and laugh softly, “If I had the power, my husband would not have a harem at all.”

Princess Min stares at you, her eyes practically glowing, “No harem? A normal man would not agree to your terms.”

You smile, “I will not marry just any man. I will marry a man solely devoted to me.”

The Princess giggles beautifully, “I love your way of thinking.”

“Well,” you giggle along with the princess, “My way of thinking isn’t something that is approved of. Luckily for his majesty, Ara will gladly allow him his harem.”

The princess quiets down and gestures for a servant to place a small, sweet cake on both of your plates. Her smile is sweet, “Tell me…”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head in question and take a small sip of tea.

Princess Min’s voice is light and soft, “when are you going to stop playing ignorant?”

You still completely, your stomach bubbling with dread. You keep your face calm and composed, but your heart is beating rapidly. After a brief silence, you question, “Pardon? Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re a very clever woman, it’s why I like you so much.” Her sweet smile never leaves her face, but her eyes are dark and cold. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“No,” You keep your voice firm, “I do not know what you mean at all.”

Princess Min’s smile widens, but her dark eyes are unsettling, “Did you enjoy Imperial Brother’s latest gift?”

You slowly set your tea cup on the table, “His highness gives the most thoughtful gifts, we are forever in his debt.”

“You know, he chose the pattern and colors himself.”

“About that,” you lick your lips before continuing, “Eunuch Ki gave me the golden dress by mistake.”

“Oh you are good. For someone who claims they have no interest in court or politics, that is. Though you need a little more training before you sit in on a council.” The Princess takes a bite of cake, her eyes flashing, “I don’t recommend playing dumb with me, however.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

The Princess ignores your remark, “Have you heard of my betrothed? Prince Regent Jung Hoseok. He’s the general of the Imperial Army.”

“Of course,” your mind frantically tries to understand where the connection is, “He has helped the emperor win many battles.”

“Did you know that he was betrothed before?”

You shake your head, but don’t reply. You have no idea what this discussion has to do with the emperor’s gifts, but you didn’t dare interrupt or question her.

“He grew up in the palace here with Imperial Brother and I. My father, the emperor at the time, practically raised him as one of his own. He was Imperial Brother’s companion and also to be his general in war. I had been in love with him since I was very young. He was all I ever wanted.” Princess Min Glances off into the distance, as if she’s reminiscing, “For his outstanding work as the General of the Imperial Army, my father gifted him a marriage to a nobleman’s daughter... Lord Tokko’s only daughter, Yeong.”

Lord Tokko’s name was vaguely familiar to you, you had heard your father mention him a few times. As for his daughter, you had never heard of this woman, but by the tone of Princess Min’s voice and the frown on her face, you know it was someone that the princess did not like.

“The Prince Regent agreed to the marriage, he actually cared for her, thought himself to be in love,” The princess scoffs and takes a small sip of tea, “It was not hard for me to get my father to agree to have Lady Yeong come to the palace to serve as a friend and companion for me.”

“She was one of the kindest, sweetest, young women I had ever met.” The Princess locks eyes with you, “So trusting that even as she lay dying, it never crossed her mind that I was the one that poisoned her.”

You're quiet for several moments, trying to gather your thoughts. Your voice is a little shaky when you finally ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

Princess Min ignores you once again, “We thought the sickness had skipped my brother. It usually only manifests itself in the women in my family, my grandmother had it too, you know?”

“What sickness?” You are growing more alarmed. The Princess was revealing information and secrets that you should not know and you did not understand her reasoning.

Again, Princess Min ignores you, continuing her story as if she were a player on stage and you the enraptured audience, “He never showed any symptoms, not a care in the world for anyone but himself. The closest he came was Concubine Nam, but nothing serious ever happened with her. He would never make her his consort, so I knew she wasn’t the one.”

“Imagine my elation when you finally arrived. You have turned out to be all we hoped for and more.” Princess Min smiles at you beautifully, her dark eyes shining almost manically, “The moment he saw you, your fate was sealed.”

Before today, having Princess Min’s confidence made you feel warm and welcomed. Now you only feel dread.

“I.. I...” You lick your too dry lips and stumble over your words, your composure crumbling in the wake of the Imperial Princess’ confession, “I am to be married to Lord Kim. My father is working out the contracts.”

“Lord Kim?” The princess giggles, “My brother wanted to strip him and his family of their lands and titles, but I was able to talk him back from that.”

“I don’t understand.” You feel cold all over.

“Yes, you do.” The princess gestures and a maid comes forward holding a silver tray, the princess grabs the small bundle of letters and tosses them on the table, “You’re lucky that I was able to intercept these before Imperial Brother read them. If he knew you were writing to another man, he would have Lord Kim beheaded.”

You’re quiet, staring at the letters you wrote to Lord Kim asking after his health. The letters he never received. Too much was going through your mind. What about Ara?

“My father-”

“Your father has already agreed and I was able to have Imperial Brother gift a marriage to Lord Kim.” Princess Min’s voice is pleasant, as if she's discussing the weather, “Your sister will be his bride.”

You stand abruptly from the table, your chair clattering to the floor behind you. You feel shaken and terrified. You knew something was off, but you were hoping, praying, you were wrong.

“Please excuse me, your majesty.” You step back from the table, your eyes slightly glassy, “I need to rest before tonight’s banquet.”

“Please, call me Ji-Soo…,” The princess smiles at you, her dark eyes are filled with what you now recognize as madness, the same look found in the emperor’s eyes when he looks at you,

“..We’re family after all.”

-0-0-0-

When you arrive back at your courtyard, your mind is still struggling to comprehend what is happening. You rush past the servants and lock yourself in your room. You stare at the beautiful golden dress laid out on your bed, the diamonds twinkling as if mocking you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Ara is supposed to be empress.

You slide to the floor, your back against the door. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You stare at the dress, but your mind isn’t focused on it. You’re trying to think, trying to plan. What are you supposed to do? You don’t even entertain the thought that your father will save you. You have no choice. Emperor Min holds all the power.

You don’t realize that hours have passed with you staring blankly at the dress until the servants knock on your door. “My lady, we are here to prepare you for the banquet.”

“I don’t need help to prepare. Please leave me.”

“My lady,” The voice of the maid is trembling, fearful, “The emperor insists.”

You swallow and stand, your legs shaky. You open the door and stare at the servants, they are terrified. Terrified of the emperor, terrified of his displeasure. You realize that you and them are not so different. No one has a choice. Everyone is subject to Emperor Min’s whims.

“Where is Ara?”

“She has already been prepared for the banquet.” Several servants rush in carrying a large washing tub filled with steaming water. The water is fragrant and several flowers are flowing on the surface.

You watch a large dressing screen being set up around the tub, several of the servants bow low to you before quickly leaving the room. You look at them questioningly and an older maid steps forward, “Forgive us, my lady. We are under strict instructions and not allowed to help you undress or bathe.”

“What? Why?”

The maid licks her lips and hangs several white undergarments over the dressing screen, “The emperor made a new decree that it is a crime punishable by death for anyone other than the emperor himself to view the empress consort’s nude body.”

It’s a jarring experience to be referred to as the empress consort.

“It- it is not official.”

You want to scream at them that this is wrong. That you’re not even betrothed, that this isn’t supposed to be you.

They won’t meet your eyes.

The jade bracelet on your wrist slides, warm beads against cool skin, and that’s when you realize all the mistakes you have made. You can’t stop the heavy weight you feel in your chest. You can feel your lips begin to tremble and your eyes feel watery. You don’t want to cry, but you know you should because you have the horrible feeling that once you are announced as the chosen empress consort at the banquet, the emperor will not let you out of his sight.

The maid smooths over any imaginary wrinkles in the undergarments and gives you a pitying look, “Please get dressed in these once you are finished and we will prepare you for the banquet.”

You’re left alone and you robotically remove your dress and undergarments. The water is hot and relaxing and it soothes your frazzled nerves. You lean your head back against the washing tub, you can hear the maids quietly talking behind the dressing screen. Your mind is racing. You are a smart girl. Your father has always praised your brilliance and forward thinking and lamented over you not being born a boy. You could figure this out. You could find a way out.

There is obviously something seriously wrong with the Imperial siblings. The Princess herself confessed to murdering a love rival and the emperor has never shown any sign of this alleged sickness until now. Concubine Nam is carrying his child. You’ve already told Princess Min about your distaste of the harem. You refuse to have a husband that continues to keep a harem of concubines.

But you know, you know, you could not refuse the emperor’s suit. You did not have any choice in the matter. While this is not the outcome that you nor Ara want, you know that your father will be pleased. All men want is power. They do not care for who they hurt or how they use their children like pawns. Your father will be the father-in-law of the emperor, his position and power will be secured.

The water is cold when you finally decide to step out of the washing tub. You resolve yourself to your future. Being the Empress Consort is not the worst fate you can have, but you were fearful of your sister’s reaction. She will hate you.

You slowly put on your undergarments and step out from behind the screen. The maids eagerly rush you over to the large dressing table and sit you down. You stare at your worn reflection in the large, ornate mirror.

Several maids kneel at your sides, dipping your fingers and toes in a dark paste. Other maids rub scented lotion onto your arms and legs. You watch through your reflection as the older maid rearranges your hair into an intricate updo, her skilled hands working effortlessly.

Your voice is a little hoarse when you speak, but you clear your throat and look at the older maid, “Will you be my personal servant?”

“Of course,” The maid gives you a warm smile, “His highness chose me personally to care for his bride.”

You give her a strained smile in return, neither of you mention the fact that the emperor chose servants that would be loyal to him. It wasn’t uncommon for a bride to bring a handful of trusted servants with them to their new home, but these aren’t normal circumstances. You would truly be alone here. “May I know your name?”

“Unso.”

“Unso.” You say the name carefully, “Please take good care of me.”

“My absolute pleasure.” She beams and gestures to your hair, the golden hairpin shining on top. The hairstyle is extravagant and more beautiful than any you have ever worn. The other maids clean the dark paste off your fingers and toes, revealing the nails to be stained a pretty red. Another servant brings a small jar of white cream and rubs it onto your face. You sit still as makeup is applied to your face. Your lips are painted a dark red and your eyes are lined with kohl. A small, delicate mugunghwa flower is painted in red and black between your eyebrows.

You stand and the maids help you dress in the beautiful golden dress. They take their time making sure everything is perfect. When you are fully dressed, the servants all stand back and stare at their hard work.

“Mistress is the most beautiful!”

“The Emperor has chosen well!”

“Her beauty is unparalleled!”

“An absolute vision!”

“His highness will be most pleased!”

The praises are interrupted by Eunuch Ki. He gives you a once over before nodding to Unso, “Excellent. Make sure everything is prepared as instructed.”

Unso nods her head and steps back.

“My lady,” Eunuch Ki bows low to you, “Please allow me to escort you to the banquet hall.”

You look around nervously, “But Ara-”

“Your sister is already at the banquet.”

“I see.” You nod your head realizing you don’t have a choice, “I would be honored for Eunuch Ki to escort me.”

He gives you another low bow and turns to lead the way out of your rooms. Unso gives you an encouraging smile and you nod your head in return. Eunuch Ki leads you out of your courtyard to an extravagant imperial carriage. From the design and brilliance, you can tell that this is the emperor’s personal carriage.

The ride to the grand banquet hall is quiet. You’re positive that you’re shaking in your seat. Eunuch Ki is watching you, but he doesn’t comment on your nerves. The carriage comes to a stop and the door is opened by an imperial guard. Eunuch Ki steps down first. You follow slowly behind him, all the servants and guards bowing in your presence.

The long walk to the banquet hall seems to last seconds. You can feel sweat beading on your forehead and you are distractedly worried that all the servants' hard work on your face paint will come undone. The closer you get to the hall, the louder the music and laughter from inside becomes. You can hear that it is a grand celebration and you worry for a moment that you are late.

Eunuch Ki stops several feet away from the double doors. He gives you a sad smile and leans close to you, “An empress does not show fear. An empress does not show despair.”

You nod your head in understanding, straighten your back and hold your head high. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest; the expectations of the kingdom weighing on your shoulders. You can feel the sinking feeling in your stomach that Ara will never forgive you. You desperately hope she can understand.

You do not have a choice.

“Please open the doors.”

The large golden doors are heavy, requiring several servants to push them open. A loud chime is heard from the inside of the room. Eunuch Ki steps forward and announces your arrival, but you cannot hear him over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears.

You step forward and you can feel all eyes are on you, but the only eyes you can focus on are the emperor’s. Dark, calculating, mad. He’s not dressed in his customary black, but gold. His ceremonial robes are a bright gold patterned with black mandarin ducks, matching yours. His long hair is unbound, a glittering crown is placed upon his brow. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

The room is so quiet you can hear a pin drop. You take several slow steps into the room and make your way towards the emperor. Before you reach him, Princess Min steps forward, a handsome man you recognize as Prince Regent Jung Hoseok at her side. The couple is dressed in matching colors. Royal blue and patterned with silver bats. Princess Min leans close to you and kisses both your cheeks. She pauses to whisper a quiet, “Good Girl,” that only you can hear. Prince Regent Jung gives you a low bow.

You bow in return to the Princess and her betrothed. The room is still deathly quiet. When you finally reach the emperor, he stares at you as if you are the only thing he has ever wanted. You prepare to bow, but Emperor Min stops you, “From this moment forward, you bow to no one.”

You swallow and nod your head. Emperor Min continues staring at you, his eyes swirling with equal parts happiness and madness. Eunuch Ki steps forward holding a golden goblet. You stare at the goblet and then look at the emperor in horror. This isn’t right. You realize quickly that this is no ordinary celebration banquet.

This is a wedding.

You quickly look away, desperately searching for Ara. Slim fingers grip your chin tightly, you can feel the cold metal of his rings pressing into your skin. Your face is turned back to the Emperor.

“Who is the king?” His voice is quiet, but firm, “Who is the boss?”

You stare into his cold eyes. He knows he has you trapped and he knows there is nothing you can do. While you want to believe that you had reconciled yourself with your fate, you had truly hoped that you had more time to find a way out. But there is no way out.

After a few moments, you nod your head in understanding and open your mouth to accept a drink from the goblet. Emperor Min takes the goblet from Eunuch Ki and holds it to your lips. His smile is gentle, but his eyes are filled with triumph as you drink.

The rice wine is sweet but you barely taste it. You swallow a large gulp and lick your lips. The emperor’s eyes darken as he watches you and his smile widens. He gently places the goblet into your hands and you carefully hold it up to his lips. He takes several large gulps, but never breaks eye contact with you.

Eunuch Ki grabs the goblet from you and before you know what is happening, you’re in the emperor’s embrace. One of his hands cup the back of your head as the other holds you tightly by the waist, “Finally, you’re mine.”

His kiss catches you off guard and you close your eyes involuntarily. You know that kissing is improper for a wedding ceremony and should only be done in private, but no one would dare question the emperor. His lips are soft and taste of the rice wine you just drank. When his tongue gently coaxes your lips open, you do not resist. Your fingers grip his shoulders and you cannot stop yourself from melting into him.

When he finally releases you, you steady yourself against him. You’re in a daze as the emperor leads you to the royal table. You stand quietly at his side as he raises a glass of wine in a toast, “To my new bride, your new empress!”

The hall is filled with thunderous applause and cheering. Your moves are robotic as the emperor instructs you to sit next to him. He fills your plate with all your favorite delicacies and pours you a cup of tea. The musicians start playing music again and the murmur of conversations start up around you. You glance around the hall and realize that all the eligible young ladies that were prospective consorts are wearing matching dresses. Light blue and patterned with butterflies. The same dress that Ara was gifted.

You look around for Ara and you find her seated between your father and Lord Kim. Your father and Lord Kim seem to be in a serious conversation. Ara looks calm and composed, but her eyes betray her. You can see her unhappiness and your heart aches.

“Beloved,” You’re jolted by the emperor’s deep, somber voice, “Don’t worry about your sister. She will be taken care of. Lord Kim will make her happy.”

It takes you a moment to respond, but you do so quietly, “My sister’s only happiness will always be with the emperor.”

The emperor glances in the direction of your sister and then turns back to you, his smile is sweet, “You are a good sister, but it’s time you put your happiness first.”

You’re puzzled, “My happiness?”

“Your happiness.” Emperor Min kisses your lips softly, “To be my bride. To be my queen. To be mine.”

You stare at him incredulously, and realize he truly believes that you are happy being his bride. He really thinks you wanted this and were only holding yourself back for Ara’s sake. Princess Min gives you a knowing smile from across the table. You sit in a daze as the night progresses. The emperor would let no other serve you, but himself, constantly refilling your plate and cup.

You can feel the angry glare of Concubine Nam on you from across the hall and when you finally meet her gaze, you're startled to realize that she’s also wearing the same light blue dress, patterned with silver butterflies, that Ara was gifted. In fact, all the concubines are dressed this way.

Concubine Nam’s face is fuller and glowing beautifully. Her soft, demure persona would be more believable if her eyes weren’t filled with hatred. You’re secretly pleased that her plan to trap the emperor has failed. If she was smart, she would try to gain favor with you, but instead she will most likely plot to poison you. You give her a small nod of acknowledgement and she sneers in return before turning away.

The night drags on and you're exhausted from trying to keep a happy facade. You catch your shoulders drooping more often than not, and even feel yourself lean against the emperor a time or two.

When it is finally time to receive congratulations from the representatives from the noble families, you stay quiet at the emperor’s side. You smile when needed and murmur thanks when prompted. Everything feels unreal.

When your family steps forward, you try to catch Ara’s eyes. She nods her head at Princess Min and bows low to you, “Your highness, many happy wishes on your marriage. May the gods bless you with healthy sons.”

Her voice is cold and you can see the hatred in her eyes. You grab her hand, “Ara please, you must understand.”

“Understand that my sister is a liar?” Ara raises her voice and pulls away from you, “Understand that she is a snake who planned this?!”

“Ara, no.” Your voice cracks and you can feel tears brimming in your eyes, your exhaustion and stress finally catching up to you, “You are my most beloved sister. I would never-”

“And yet, here you are.” Ara’s voice is mocking, “Empress.”

The scene your sister is making draws the attention of your father and Emperor Min, who were in the middle of a quiet conversation near you. Even Princess Min is frowning from where she is seated, obviously hearing the raise of Ara’s voice.

“Enough.” The emperor’s voice is cold as he glares furiously at Ara, “You dare to show disrespect to your empress?”

“She tricked you! Can’t you see she tricked you?!” Ara ignores the dangerous aura surrounding Emperor Min, “It was supposed to be me! I am supposed to be your queen. I love y-”

“Guards. Detain her. Disrespect to the empress is punishable by death.”

You can see the fear on Ara’s face, she backs away quickly, but the guards grab her. Your father looks alarmed and even Lord Kim looks fearful for your sister’s life. You look at the emperor and grip his arm tightly, “Please, please do not punish her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“She dared to disrespect you. She doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Please,” You beg him, you look at Ara’s fearful face and close your eyes in dismay, you know she will hate you even more after this. You firm your resolve and open your eyes, “She’s only a child.”

You press yourself against the emperor, “She’s harmless. She knows that what we have is real. She knows that you love me. She’s only jealous.”

The emperor’s eyes soften as he stares at you. “And you? Do you love me?”

You glance at your sister, an apology in your eyes, before wrapping your arms around Emperor Min, “I love you. Only you.”

He kisses you deeply and waves away the guards. Once he breaks the kiss, you feel yourself sag against him in relief as Ara is released and your father ushers her away. You can feel Lord Kim staring at you and when you finally meet his gaze, you're taken aback by the devastation in his eyes.

His eyes flicker between you and the emperor before he turns around and follows after your father. You stare after him but the emperor blocks your view. You look up and meet his eyes.

“Your eyes are only meant for me. No one else.”

You nod your head, but don’t say a word. Emperor Min continues to stare at you for a moment longer, before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Eunuch Ki.”

Eunuch Ki suddenly appears at the Emperor’s side ready and willing to do whatever is asked of him and gives a low bow, “Your majesty.”

“Take my bride to rest.”

“At once, your grace.” Eunuch Ki gestures for you to follow him and you do so without another word. Once the heavy golden doors close behind you, you finally let the tears fall from your eyes. You cry silently on the long carriage ride back to the other side of the palace. Eunuch Ki looks uncomfortable and like he wishes to offer words of comfort, but has no idea what to say.

You go to rub your eyes with the sleeve of your dress, but Eunuch Ki stops you and hands you a soft cloth, “Forgive me your highness, but your dress must be preserved for the royal archives, you must not dirty it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” You give a sad hiccup laugh and look out the carriage window. You realize quickly that you are not headed to the Mugunghwa Courtyard, but to the Emperor’s private courtyard.

“I thought the Emperor wanted me to rest.”

Eunuch Ki gives you a look, but doesn’t respond. When the carriage rolls to a stop, Unso is there to help you down from the carriage. If she sees the distress on your face, she doesn’t comment on it. She gives you a low bow and leads you into the Emperor’s lair.

His private courtyard and rooms are enormous. Everything is draped in silks of black and gold. When you finally reach the Emperor’s private chambers, you’re astounded. His bedroom has the largest canopy bed you have ever seen, covered in a mountain of pillows. There is a large wooden desk in one corner of the room surrounded with several shelves filled with scrolls. There’s two separate golden resting sofas, each larger than you have ever seen and even a large dressing table with a mirror, obviously for a woman to use. There are also large double doors leading out to a small, private hot spring.

You watch Unso bustle around the room, preparing things and beckoning you over to the dressing table. “Your highness, let me help you remove your makeup.”

You sit quietly at the table and let Unso gently wash your face. You watch her put a special cream under your eyes to bring down the puffiness from your tears. She takes her time undoing your hair and leaving it unbound. You meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, “How many women has he bedded here?”

She looks puzzled at your question, “His majesty has never brought any woman here.”

“Concubine Nam?”

“Never.” Unso’s voice is resolute, “His majesty has never brought any woman, harem or no, here. These are his private chambers.”

“I see.” You don’t know if she’s lying to you, but if she is, you appreciate it. You feel slightly better knowing you are the only woman to ever sleep in his chambers.

Unso opens a chest and pulls out a black silk robe embroidered with red mugunghwa flowers and lays it over the top of the dressing screen in the corner of the room, “Your highness, you should remove your clothes and put this on. I’ll make you some tea and then you can lay down and rest.”

You slowly make your way behind the dressing screen and painstakingly remove your wedding dress. You leave it in a heap on the floor along with your undergarments. You know there is no point in wearing them and while you are nervous and a little scared, you know the consummation is inevitable.

You put the silk robe on, and gently tie the sash around your waist. When you step around the dressing screen, Unso has already prepared the bed by removing many of the pillows and replacing the black silk sheets with a soft, white one. The white sheet shines ominously in the low light of the lanterns.

“Your highness, have some tea to soothe your nerves.” Unso has brewed some fresh tea, but the scent is different than any you have had before. You sit stiffly on the edge of the newly made bed and take a small sip of tea. The taste is slightly bitter, but soon you feel yourself relaxing.

“What type of tea is this?” You ask as Unso refills your cup and urges you to drink more.

She pats your head and gives you a warm smile, “Don’t worry. It was requested by his highness to help improve your health.”

You nod and don’t question her. You assume it’s similar to what the harem drinks to prevent pregnancy. The emperor is still young and with the drama that Concubine Nam has caused, you doubt children were on his mind. Before you know it, you’ve finished the entire pot.

Unso helps tuck you in bed, and turns down all the lanterns. The only light in the room is that from the moonlight seeping in through the heavy curtains. You can barely keep your eyes open and the last thing you hear before you drift asleep is Unso’s quiet words, “Rest well, your majesty. You will need it.”

-0-0-0-

You’re awoken by a soft noise. You sit up and look around but don’t notice anything out of place. You’re still alone in the emperor’s bed. You see a faint glow under a previously unnoticed door in the far corner near his large desk.

You get out of bed and make your way to the door. It opens soundlessly and a large staircase is revealed. You slowly make your way up the staircase, being careful not to make a sound. At the top of the staircase is a large room. It looks like an artist’s studio. Numerous canvases line the walls, charcoals and paints scattered over several large wooden tables stationed through the room.

You see half finished portraits of Princess Min and a few of the previous emperors. You step into the room, careful not to disturb the artwork. There are some more paintings of several gardens and fountains that inhabit the palace grounds. In the corner of the room there is a beautiful hand carved desk, slightly smaller than the large tables, covered with more artwork. When you get closer you realize the paintings and sketches are all of you. You in the dress you wore the first night you arrived, you smiling in Princess Min’s private pavilion, you taking a walk in one of the private gardens, you asleep in your private rooms. Hundreds of paintings and drawings of you.

You see another canvas underneath, it's slightly worn with frayed edges as if it’s been touched frequently. When you pull it out you see it's a painting of you, but this one you recognize. Two summers ago your father had you and your sister sit for a family portrait. The artist was impeccable and it was one of the most accurate paintings you had ever seen of yourself, it was almost like looking in the mirror. You see that the painting is torn, your sister and father removed from the portrait.

“You’ve found my sanctuary.”

You startle at the emperor’s voice and drop the canvas as if you’ve been burned. He’s standing at the entrance of the room, he’s no longer dressed in the golden robe, but now his signature black. It’s tied loosely, so the smooth pale skin of his chest is visible. His blond hair is loose and his crown is gone.

“You’re quite the artist.” You gesture around the room, “but I notice there is no artwork of your concubines, of your beloved Concubine Nam.”

The emperor glances around, taking in his artwork as he steps further into the room, “Are you jealous of In-Suk?”

You frown at the use of her first name, but do not deny his accusation, “I do not like the thought of my husband bedding other women.”

“There are no other women.” Emperor Min slowly makes his way over to you, “You’re the only one that matters.”

You glance back at the desk littered with portraits of you, your eyes stopping on the torn family portrait, “How long have I been the only one that matters?”

He smiles, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” You keep your voice calm and composed, “It matters to me.”

Emperor Min stands close to you, his fingers trailing over the artwork on the desk, “I had no interest in marriage. Lords and other noblemen constantly throwing their daughters at me. Your father is no different. Going on and on about Ara and how wonderful and virtuous she is.” He smiles wryly, “I finally got him to shut up by feigning interest.”

The emperor gently picks up the torn family portrait, “Imagine my surprise when he brings me this. A beautiful family portrait. I ask him about you and he immediately tells me about what a beautiful and doting older sister you are to Ara. How ever since your mother died, you have helped raise her. How you love her more than anything.”

He sets the portrait down and grabs your hands, gently turning you to face him, “I knew then that you would sacrifice everything for your beloved sister. I also knew that I needed to get you into the palace. Once you were here, you could not deny me.”

“But I was supposed to marry Lord-”

“Never say his name again.” Emperor’s Min’s voice is hard, leaving no room for discussion, “I am your husband. He is nothing.”

“Of course,” Your voice is quiet, you hesitate for a moment before you continue your questioning, “But… but Princess Min set up the consort selection. She told me she had to practically beg you to agree.”

“My beloved wife.” Emperor Min cups your face affectionately, his previous sour mood at the mention of Lord Kim completely gone, “You’re too trusting. She poisoned her companion, do you really think she would not lie to help her brother?”

“But Ara-”

“Ara will forgive you.” He presses a soft kiss against your lips, “Or she won’t. It does not matter.”

“But-”

“Is it really so bad being Empress?” Emperor Min presses another kiss to your lips, his fingers tangle in your unbound hair, “Being Mother to the country?”

“No-no, I am grateful to your majesty.” You shiver at his touch, grasping his shoulders as he presses himself against you.

“Yoongi.” He places more kisses down your lips and chin, “Call me Yoongi.”

“Yoongi!” You gasp when he softly bites your neck.

You feel him reach behind you and push everything off the large desk, the sound of canvases and painting supplies hitting the floor echoes throughout the room. Yoongi picks you up and sits you on the large desk, his lips never leaving your skin.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” His mouth is muffled by the skin of your neck, his lips and tongue trail lower. You feel hot all over and cannot help but shiver when his hand yanks the collar of your robe down your shoulder. “My beautiful queen.”

Your fingers clutch at the silk fabric of his robe, holding him closer to you. You don’t stop him when he undoes your robe, his hot fingers trailing down the skin of your abdomen. “Beloved, will you show me?”

You wordlessly lean back, letting the open robe slip down your arms, baring your nude body to his view. His eyes are burning as he drinks you in. “Absolutely Exquisite.”

Yoongi leans over you, pressing himself between your thighs, and kisses you deeply. His tongue licks into your mouth with desperation. His hands are shaking as he grips your hips, and you quickly free yourself from the sleeves of your robe.

He breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck and chest, his hot tongue swirls around your exposed breast before suckling the nipple. You can’t stop your moan, your whole body jerks at the feeling. “Y-Yoongi!”

“Say it again.” Yoongi’s voice is filled with desperation as he kisses down your ribs, “Say my name again.”

“Yoongi.” You whisper and your stomach clenches when he kisses lower, his wet tongue trailing over your abdomen. You’re so aroused, you can feel your wetness coating your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed.

“I have never seen a more beautiful woman.” Yoongi presses a soft kiss below your belly button, “The country has never had a more beautiful empress.”

“Your highness flatters me.”

“No.” Yoongi’s firm voice startles you and when you meet his eyes, they are burning with madness, “This emperor loves you. Only you.”

You shiver at the look in his eyes and nod your head in return, “Yes. Of course.”

Yoongi presses another kiss to your abdomen, his large hands gripping your thighs as he stares at you, “Will you deny your king?”

“Never.”

The smile he gives you is equal parts beautiful and dangerous, his dark, dark eyes overflowing with adoration for you, “Good girl.”

Your breath catches when he spreads your thighs apart and leans forward, his mouth inches away from your wet, pulsing cunt. “I wonder if you taste as succulent as you smell.”

You feel your pussy throb at his words and you lean your head back against the desk, your eyes closing in anticipation. You find his crude words more arousing than you ever thought possible. Your heart is beating so fast and you can feel sweat beading on your forehead. While you have never been intimate with a man, you were no stranger to self pleasure. You just never imagined your first experience with a man would be the emperor of the entire nation between your thighs, waiting to pleasure you. The heady rush of excitement is making you dizzy.

You tense when Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your juicy pussy. His tongue is hot as it licks a slow stripe up to your clit and you both release a throaty groan when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you get light headed from lack of oxygen. You're shivering all over and you feel a tight pressure in your stomach. Your entire body is tuned to Yoongi’s mouth, every lick and suck of his tongue has you soaring.

“Better.” He whispers between licks of your swollen clit, his fingers shaking as he holds your thighs apart, “You taste so much better than anything I’ve ever had before.”

You press your hand into your mouth to bite down on, trying to muffle your moans. Your other hand scrambles for something to hold onto before tangling in his long, soft hair.

You press your heel into his back, but if Yoongi is bothered, he does not show it. He’s completely focused on devouring you. You bite your hand hard to cover your squeal when his hot fingers gently probe your cunt. He reaches up to pull your hand out of your mouth, his fingers gently stroking your wrist around the jade bracelet, “Do not dare hide your pleasure from me.”

He places your hand on his head, near your other hand already grasping his hair, and encourages you to use him as you please. A long, thick finger slips inside you and you cannot stop yourself from clamping down, your hips automatically rolling up into his face.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” Yoongi continues to flick your clit with his tongue, “Ride my face.”

Your fingers grasp his head, holding his mouth against your aching cunt. You’re throbbing and dripping and you know you are going to come soon. You can feel the release building deep inside you. Yoongi presses another finger into your dripping hole and you can feel yourself trembling. He’s completely focused on you and your pleasure, his mouth working nonstop to help you reach your peak.

You sit up slightly and meet his dark gaze, his eyes are brimming with satisfaction. You grip his hair hard and press his face against your dripping cunt. You’re so close you’re practically vibrating with pleasure.

He twists his fingers and you're coming. You release a soundless gasp and can’t stop yourself from gushing all over his fingers. Yoongi moans at the taste of you, his mouth eagerly trying to swallow every drop of your release. You collapse on the desk, your orgasm still thrumming through your body.

You barely catch your breath when he’s hovering over you, your release glistening on his lips and chin. He kisses you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his tongue. You can feel his body trembling as he undoes his robe and you cannot figure out if he’s nervous or excited, or a combination of both.

He breaks the kiss to look at you and your stomach flutters at his gaze, so full of yearning and affection, you’re no longer sure why you ever thought about denying him. You hadn't even realized something was missing from your life, he was missing from your life, until this moment. You weren't just doing this out of a sense of duty. Because you were his wife. Because he was your husband. You wanted this. Desperately. More than you’d wanted anything up until this moment.

Full of your realization, you push his robe off his shoulders and spread your legs wider, allowing him to press himself completely against you. He’s hot and hard, pulsing between your thighs. You shiver at the feel of him, your sticky cunt still dripping from your orgasm. You look at him, his cheeks flushed pink, his forehead and chest slightly sweaty, his hair a tangled mess. His scar looks less intimidating in the low light of the lanterns.

“You love me?” You don’t realize you have said the words out loud until he stares at you, his dark, dark eyes burning.

“More than anything.”

It’s intoxicating knowing you have this beautiful man confessing his love to you. He is the most powerful man in the entire world and he loves you more than anything. You can’t help the ugly feelings of jealousy bubbling in your stomach, knowing other women have seen him undone like this. Knowing that Concubine Nam has had him like this is unacceptable.

“I want them gone.” You shift forward slightly, the head of his thick cock catching on your entrance. You feel so hot between your legs, your cunt aching to be spread open by him.

“Who?” He sounds confused, distracted. His whole body is trembling, holding himself back from thrusting up into you.

“Your whores.” You roll your hips and feel him sink a few inches inside you, you hold your breath and try not to tense up at the intrusion. “I will not have a husband that has a harem. I want them all gone, especially that bitch Nam. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this.”

“Yes,” You feel more than hear him gasp, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, “Anything you want.

“You’re mine.”

Your whispered declaration causes something inside of him to snap. You’re unprepared when he pushes completely inside of you. The burning stretch of his thick, heavy cock leaves your breathless. He groans into your chest, barely giving you a moment to adjust before he’s thrusting in and out. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him. His lips press soft kisses into your skin between pants of yesyesyes and all yours. You’re soaked and shaking, your fingers clutch his shoulders, trying to anchor him against you. He’s so thick and so large, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“My Empress, My Goddess,” Yoongi whispers reverently into your skin, “I will give you everything.”

“Yes,” You press yourself closer to him, ignoring the feel of his ringed fingers bruising your hips, “All I want is you.”

Every thrust of his hips brings you closer to the edge. You’re quivering around him, so close you can almost taste it. You shudder when he releases your hip, his fingers gently rubbing your swollen clit, causing you to pulse around him. “That’s it, my beloved girl. Come for me.”

Yoongi softly pinches your clit and you explode. His tongue licks up your throat, his mouth swallowing your quiet cries of pleasure. You clench down and feel him gasp against you, his body shuddering uncontrollably. The pulse of his cock inside you floods you with warmth.

You close your eyes and hold him against you, trying to catch your breath. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You slowly run your fingers through his hair and smile when you realize he’s still buried inside you.

He sits up and stares at you. You can see your reflection in his dark eyes. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are swollen. You can see your eyes are hazy with pleasure and several love bites adorn your neck and shoulders.

“My beloved bride.” Yoongi smiles at you affectionately, his fingers gently brush your hair back from your sweaty forehead, “I will never let you go.”

-0-0-0-

When you awaken you’re alone in the emperor’s bed, his side is cool, as if he’s been gone for hours. You’re sore all over, your husband spent most of the night inside of you, making you come over and over again until the early morning light.

You wrap the wrinkled white sheet around you and stand on shaky legs. You slowly make your way to the door and call for Unso. She appears immediately, almost as if she was waiting for you.

She helps you sit at the dressing table and goes about opening the curtains. Based on the sunlight entering the room, you can tell it is already early afternoon. Several maids clear the used bedding from the bed, and replace the sheets with clean silk ones.

“Where is the emperor?”

“His majesty wanted his bride to get enough rest, he would not let anyone disturb your highness.” Unso ignores your question and pulls a black dress patterned with golden dragons from the wardrobe. She hangs it over the silk dressing screen along with several undergarments.

You watch her through the mirror as she orders servants to prepare bath water for you. You can tell that something is amiss by the way Unso will not meet your eyes and the maids scurry about as if they are terrified of you.

“Your highness,” A younger maid bows low and holds out a fresh cup of tea, “your tea?”

You take the cup from the trembling maid, it’s the same bitter tea from the night before. You take a small sip, “Unso, where is my husband?”

“Your majesty, you must drink your tea, it is good for your health.” Unso comes out from behind the dressing screen, “Come take your bath, it will soothe your sore muscles.”

“No,” You set the mostly full cup of tea on the dressing table and stand up, “Bring me my robe.”

“Your majesty, you cannot go out in only your robe!” Unso’s voice is shocked. “It is improper!”

“Fine,” You make your way behind the dressing screen and put on your undergarments, “You will help me dress and then you will take me to my husband.”

Unso and several maids help you put on the stunning black dress. You’re ushered to the dressing table where you are adorned in diamond jewelry. Unso styles your hair with a jeweled dragon hairpin. Lotions and creams are rubbed into your face, neck and arms.

Once you are deemed presentable, you follow Unso and several servant girls to the throne room. When you reach the large doors, Eunuch Ki looks alarmed to see you and quickly bows low, “Y-your highness! What are you doing here?”

“Eunuch Ki,” You nod your head in greeting, “I came to see my husband.”

“I see,” Eunuch Ki shares an undecipherable look with Unso, “His majesty is conducting important business, he has asked me to inform you that he will join you in his rooms later for the evening meal.”

“Open the doors.”

“Please your majesty, you need to rest.” Eunuch Ki tries to placate you, “Let me take you back to the emperor’s courtyard or even to see Princess Min.”

“Open the doors. Now.”

Eunuch Ki looks helplessly at Unso before nodding his head. The guards slowly push the heavy doors open.

The smell is the first thing that hits you. The thick coppery scent of blood. You slowly step into the room and gasp in horror. The floors and walls are covered in blood. It looks like an entire massacre took place here. You walk further into the room and ignore the way the blood soaks into your silk slippers, seeping between your toes.

Eunuch Ki follows quietly behind you. There are several servants scrubbing the floors and walls, trying to remove the pools of blood around the room. You ignore them all, your eyes are completely focused on the emperor. He’s staring at a small golden box in his hand. A bloody sword rests near his feet.

“Yoongi.” You whisper the words quietly, but his head snaps up immediately, his eyes focusing on you.

“Beloved.” His eyes light up when he sees you, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. He rushes eagerly towards you. You realize he’s wearing a black robe, patterned with golden dragons, the same design as your dress. The only difference is his robe is stained with fresh blood. His hair is pulled up into a topknot, his black headband in place. Small drops of blood stain his cheeks and neck. He presses the golden box into Eunuch Ki’s hands before cupping your face, his fingers still wet with blood.

“My beautiful bride,” His voice is light, happy, “everything is perfect now that you are here.”

“Perfect?” You whisper and let him take your hands, leading you towards his throne. The golden dragon throne looks intimidating in the blood soaked room. The closer you get to the throne, the stronger the scent of blood becomes. You feel light headed, your stomach churning at the smells permeating the air.

“I.. I need to sit down.”

Yoongi looks at you concerned and immediately has you sit on his throne, “Are you alright, my love? Do you need some tea?”

“No,” You sit quietly. You feel sick, you feel sweaty, you can barely catch your breath, “I just need a moment.”

You close your eyes trying to center yourself. You know something terrible happened here, there is so much blood it looks like a battlefield. You're grateful that the bodies have already been removed, you don't know how you would have handled a room full of corpses. You take a few deep breaths and open your eyes, meeting Yoongi's bright gaze.

“I have a gift for you.” Yoongi takes the golden box from Eunuch Ki, “I wanted to surprise you with it this evening, but you are here now. My beautiful girl.”

You stare at the golden box stained with blood. You take it from Yoongi with trembling hands. Yoongi is vibrating with excitement next to you. You can feel the pressure behind your eyes signaling that you are about to cry. You blink repeatedly, holding back your tears.

You slowly open the box and stare at the contents. Yoongi holds your hands around the golden box, making sure you can’t drop it. You swallow the scream bubbling in your throat and meet his eyes. Dark, crazed, unhinged eyes overflowing with love for you. Love and madness.

You look back at your gift. Dead, lifeless eyes stare back at you. Concubine Nam’s eyes. Yoongi kneels obediently at your feet, soaking his robe in more blood. Blood from Concubine Nam. Blood from the rest of the harem.

You can’t stop the tears from dripping down your cheeks.

“They are all gone. Just like you asked.” Yoongi stares at you with reverence, his eyes sparkling, “I told you I would do anything for you.”

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #yandere!yoongi x reader #emperor!yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #yandere!yoongi #emperor!yoongi #yandere!bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts suga #bts #reader insert

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ot3 · 3 years

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hey kinda heavy ace attorney question ig but I agree with you on many things about aa and feel like you have a good understanding of Phoenix and Trucy so I really wanna ask. How do you think the creation of the bloody ace was handled? I’ve seen the idea that Trucy took matters into her own hands and made it as a failsafe without his knowledge, and that he then covered for her, but if that were the case I wonder how he knew about it and planned around it at his trial. I’ve also seen the idea that he made it himself, but gave it to her for delivery to Apollo; which maybe seems the most apparent but I really dislike it because…. It means he uses her to deliver forged evidence. In much the same way he was given the diary page, really. it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve also seen some people suggest that he made it but only gave it to her for use at her discretion, which does give some agency back to her but I also question whether Phoenix would be right in placing that on her shoulders and making it her responsibility. Sorry this expanded into a ridiculously long ask but I really am curious about your take on it?

eoooh yes yes yes i love talking about phoenix and trucy lets goooooo. i actually have a scene from my (still pretty rough and probably never to be finished) wip longfic covering this scene, which ill sick below the cut, but i'll just give my generic thoughts here first.

i think phoenix asked her to do it. trucy having enough detailed knowledge of the crime scene and the events leading up to it and the actual mechanical operation of trials that would be required in order to come up with this plan just doesn't make any sense to me. phoenix is really the only one who could have theoretically concocted this particular move. but since he was presumably held in the detention center until trial, trucy is from there really the only person who could have actually done the thing.

phoenix and trucy are pretty notoriously codependent; i'm headachey and melting from the heat today so rather than doing what i normally do and trawling the wiki to find the quotes that back me up on broadstrokes statements like these so i'm just gonna pull a 'dude just trust me' moment here. the fact that she helps take care of her daddy is a point of pride for her. i don't think it strips trucy of any agency for this to be phoenix's decision because it's not like trucy spends her whole life (or even the entire game) blindly following other peoples orders. her (and phoenix's ) priority at the beginning of aa4 is each other and their own wellbeing, and the decisions they have to make in turnabout trump are indicative of that.

yes, it echoes her bringing the forged evidence to phoenix 7 years ago, but it's more of an inversion/reversal (one might even say a turnabout) than a repetition of past mistakes. in the past she was an unwilling pawn in someone else's plan where her life was collateral, now she's an active and conscious participant in the plan of someone she cares about that she's doing to protect the life she and phoenix have built for themselves. She's not being forced to do it, but i don't think there's any world where she would have said no either. she and phoenix are the most important thing in the world to each other. in their own words, if one of them falls, they both fall.

was it right of phoenix to ask this of her? was it okay for him to do this to apollo, too? obviously it's not a good thing. but it was his only option at that moment. phoenix found himself in a very difficult situation. as an attorney he promised himself to the truth, and that was the principle he lived by, but as a father what he lives by is the promise he made to trucy to never disappear on her. at that moment phoenix did what he had to do to make sure the trial ended the way he needed it to. truth had to take a backseat. his priorities have shifted.

i've also spoken before at length about how i don't think phoenix was plotting against kristoph in the longterm, at least not to the degree which popular fanon seems to agree upon. so really everything he did in turnabout trump was phoenix being backed into a corner using every tool at his disposal to try and snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat. was it right of him to get trucy involved? it's no worse than bringing 8 year old pearl along to crime scenes because he needed her channeling skills. phoenix cares about people deeply but he isn't capable of shielding them from all the harm the world has to offer, and he knows he isn't. half of his capability comes from his shrewdness and willingness and ability to take help when he can get it because he knows, even if its a strain in a short term, he's fighting battles that need to be won at any cost. if that makes any sense

anyway heres the little scene i wrote below the cut.

---------- APRIL 17TH, 2026 DETENTION CENTER VISITOR’S ROOM ----------

Trucy shows up on the dot as visiting hours begin. It’s funny, she thinks. The last time she did this she had a different daddy altogether. Only it really isn’t particularly funny at all, is the thing about it, and she’s going to have quite a few stern words for the man when he gets home.

She picks up the phone on one side of the pane of bulletproof glass and he grabs the other.

“Daddy,” she huffs. “You promised me you’d stay out of trouble.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Truce.” He puts on an easy smile as he says it, and he uses the same affected tone of voice she had used to start the conversation off. Affected. Cautious, in the sense that it’s levity is entirely manufactured. A performance.

It had been like that between them for real at the beginning, both of them still unsure of each other, pantomiming something resembling a sitcom and playing the real feeling filled in as it went. Thankfully, it did, but the theatrics still lend themselves better to specific conversation.

“Well, if you’re sorry, I suppose I can forgive you! But this isn’t going to look good on your employee review, y’know. I’ll have to bring it up with HR.”

“I’m sure Charley can find it in his heart to forgive me, too.”

“He’s a gentle soul.” She nods.

“You should come watch the trial on Monday, I think it’d be good for you to see.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Trucy doesn’t like the courthouse. Daddy knows that. She never comes when he goes to use the library there. She also hates, hates the idea of watching her daddy sit in the defendant’s chair not knowing if he’s ever going to come home again. He knows that too.

“Well, there are always interesting things to learn during a court trial. Plus, having you there would help me out a lot!” I need you to do something for me. She reads through the tone into his words’ real meaning. Her stomach clenches. A favor he can’t just outright ask for, not over the phone in the detention center, where every word would be recorded.

“Oh, daddy, no! I’m a magician, not a lawyer, although I understand the confusion.” She drapes a hand over her eyes in faux anguish. “I simply couldn’t, it isn’t my stage.”

“I disagree. I think it’s a perfect stage. Lawyers need cheering up too, you know! Back when I was a lawyer, I used to get really stressed out during cases like these. I bet one of your tricks would do the job.”

“Well what sort of trick do you want me to do?”

“Do you remember the first trick you ever did for me? It was the day we met, at the courthouse. You pulled a piece of paper out of your hat and gave it to me.”

“Yes,” she chirps, forcing a vibrant bubble into her voice. It feels like a pile of rocks in her gut and her pulse starts to quicken. “Of course I remember!”

“I bet if you did that trick again, it’d cheer up the whole courtroom! I bet I’d win my case in a heartbeat.”

----------

Her legs feel like jelly by the time the bus drops her off at the stop near the office. Daddy had kept on like that, loaded phrasing and a lopsided smile as he laced vapid banter with instructions. With warnings. She walks into the storage closet and grabs a deck of cards - one of his, the same style they use at the club, not hers for her tricks. Abruptly, she has a moment of panic as she realizes she’s not even sure what color she’s supposed to use, but then, just as fast, she forces her head clear and just grabs one of each.

They’re unopened. This makes it a cinch to find the card she’s looking for. Her stomach flips.

The worst part isn’t even what she’s doing. The worst part is that she’s doing it at all. Daddy knows well what this situation is making her feel and he’s asking her to do it anyway.

The only explanation left: he’s completely out of options.

She pulls her gloves off and grabs a needle from her sewing supplies. She pricks her finger, and lets a drop fall onto each ace.

----------

#ace attorney #i literally love them os much theyre perfect #daddy and daughter of all time

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls Extra 3

Summary: Wen Ruohan, who is still a work in progress, confronts Qingheng-jun over Lan Qiren (set between Chapter 21 and 22)

- ao3 -

To cultivate is to go against destiny: this was something all cultivators knew.

That destiny was what tied all of nature together, uniting all things within one path to flow together along the same stream to the same ocean, and that to fight against that current was to fight alone – this, no one knew better than Wen Ruohan.

Excluding perhaps only those secluded cultivators that resided in their mysterious mountains, never seeing the light of day, there was no cultivator in the world like him. The years since his birth numbered a century and more, yet his face was youthful as it had been in his twenties; all those around him, being neither so talented nor so lucky nor even so ruthless, were born and lived and grew old and died even as he remained the same – the same, and yet not unchanging. Surrounded by short-lived mayflies, he existed beyond their understanding; by now, he had learned to look down upon them all as if looking upon ants, or else he might go mad for loneliness.

It was easier to be indifferent. Better to be frozen through and through despite all the flames of his fiery cultivation style, to ignore their meaningless cries and meaningless lives and focus only on himself alone. Sometimes Wen Ruohan wondered whether he had actually died when his normal lifespan was meant to have ended and that he now existed only as a ghost, full of resentment: it was far easier to be resentful of those living creatures around him that seemed to instinctively understand one another in a way he no longer did, to ignore them or to treat them with disdain, to allow their pain to be his own reprieve from his own endless ennui – a small child pulling the wings off of flies to amuse himself and remind himself that these creatures before him were actually alive.

Hatred was easy. Living was hard.

Why should he burden himself with the effort of living – with anything other than amusing himself?

He still hadn’t figured out the answer to that, but apparently some part of the answer was plain old irritation.

Lao Nie was too high ranked to be ignored, as Wen Ruohan did care for his sect if he cared for nothing else, and unlike everyone else he refused to be ignored; he had forced his way into Wen Ruohan’s life and made him feel things once again whether he wanted to or not. Mostly what he felt was anger: anger at being treated the way he treated others (for only he was real, and the rest of them fake, and for that reason only he deserved all the good things in the world), anger at being bothered by that interminable pestilence of a man, anger at – feeling things.

Remembering things.

Wen Ruohan was unwillingly reminded of the brother who had loved him and betrayed him and left him behind with a blood-soaked gift he’d never wanted, a cold corpse so long in the ground that he had undoubtedly been completely consumed by worms; he was reminded of those children he had so greatly cherished, so long ago, the ones he would have been willing to die for but instead had to bury. The memories, and the feelings that came with them, had driven him to distraction, feeling at first as though there was nothing to be found in Lao Nie’s immensely irritating brand of affection but needless pain, but somewhere along the line that little spark of irritation had become more than just that.

It hadn’t just been irritation, but curiosity – curiosity, interest, humor, affection…even a feeling of indulgence, a desire to spoil someone and treat them well for no other reason than in order to see them enjoy it, feelings he hadn’t felt in decades. And somehow that mixture of irritating and curiosity had led him not only to Lao Nie, who sent himself quite happily to his bed, but had driven him in a moment of impulse to set up a trap and net himself a brand new brother of his own.

That, too, was to Lao Nie’s credit…or perhaps fault.

Wen Ruohan had tried for years and years now to deny that he felt affection for Lao Nie, and yet it hadn’t helped him one bit in diminishing that affection. Even if the man were acting very odd as of late, almost as if he did not realize what a rare prize he had won for himself through his endless persistence – it wasn’t that Wen Ruohan needed to be wanted, of course, but it was rather irritating that the man who had stuck himself to his side like a burr that wouldn’t be peeled off would promptly disappear the second it turned out Wen Ruohan actually did want him there – it was still there, unchanging.

It might be affection now, but it had started, at first, with anger, that emotion that the Nie sect knew as well as their own hearts.

It was anger that Wen Ruohan felt now.

Not at or about Lao Nie, for once, nor for his sect, one of the few things he cared for. He certainly wasn’t angry any longer at the shining pearl he had snatched away from the Lan sect all those years before, their vision averted and distracted by the glittering but ultimately insubstantial sparkle of Qingheng-jun – he’d found that he could no longer feel anger when he thought of Lan Qiren, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he reminded himself that it had been Lan Qiren who had turned away from him, distraught and upset on behalf of those meaningless flies.

Lan Qiren, who had, despite it all, missed him.

Who thought of him perhaps as often as Wen Ruohan thought of him in return – affection again, that insidious emotion, and Lan Qiren hadn’t even been the one to be persistent this time. Ridiculous, really, and even more ridiculous that it had been Wen Ruohan who had been the first to bend.

He had condescended to come to the Cloud Recesses to find him, all on the strength of an extremely implausible rumor, knowing even as he flew over that he was being a fool – there was obviously no way that Lan Qiren had actually done what he’d been accused of by the wagging tongues of inferior men, and so his trip to the Cloud Recesses was obviously an excuse to go see him and make up with him.

He hadn’t even removed the tongues of the people he’d heard it from, as a gesture of good faith.

He’d come to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren, and he’d found –

He’d found –

Wen Ruohan was often angry after Lao Nie had forcefully pulled him out of the frozen torpor that was the depth of his hate, but he had not been this angry in a very, very long time.

He moved slower than usual, his rage deadening him like a snake in winter. His anger was not like Lao Nie’s, which burned hot and then snuffed itself out, restoring at once to the usual good humor, but rather lasted and lasted, glacial and slow and inexorable. The angrier he was, the slower he moved; if all his years upon the earth had taught Wen Ruohan anything, it was that he needed to keep a clear head when he was truly angry.

Even if only so that he could fully enjoy taking his inevitable revenge.

Wen Ruohan had used a technique to coax Lan Qiren into a deep sleep, meant for healing, and handed him over to a few of his most trusted associates with instructions to see to his injuries and take whatever steps necessary to reduce his pain in the short term. That the cost and effort expended was immaterial did not need to be stated, of course.

Once that was done, he had gone to the rooms of the Lan sect leader, step by slow step, and as he’d hoped, Qingheng-jun was there by the time he arrived, waiting to speak to him.

For all its loneliness, he reflected, there were many benefits to power.

“You’re in the wrong place,” he told him, seeing that, as he’d suspected, the Lan sect rooms were all oriented the same way.

Qingheng-jun frowned at him, clearly not understanding. “Sect Leader Wen –”

“You should take a few steps to the right,” Wen Ruohan clarified, gesturing, and making clear as he did that there would be no conversation until he was obeyed.

This, too, was the benefit of power.

Confused, Qingheng-jun did as he said, moving over until it matched up with the image Wen Ruohan had put together in his head on the way here: the stories told by his spies and the marks left on Lan Qiren’s body both, a hazy image of two brothers standing in a room that was laid out just the same but which was nothing alike.

“Perfect,” he said, and, curling his fingers into a fist, he punched him deep in the stomach.

Qingheng-jun’s complaint stuck in his throat as he gagged, the air expelled out of him by force – Wen Ruohan’s strikes were enough to shatter stone, and Qingheng-jun, however talented a cultivator, was not strong enough to be able to disregard them. He staggered, and Wen Ruohan caught him by the collar, slamming him against the wall and holding him up.

Just the way Qingheng-jun had done to Lan Qiren, just some few days before.

“How dare you,” Wen Ruohan snarled, and felt it again, that anger that was unlike any other anger. Anger that burned hot, not cold; anger that was like a furious flame, not the bright but unfeeling rays of the sun. Anger for someone, rather than against them…anger that was born of affection, rather than hate. “How dare you touch Qiren! He’s your brother!”

He’s my brother.

“He’s no brother of mine,” Qingheng-jun spat, vicious and bitter. “He hasn’t been in years, not since you stole him away and made him value you over his duty to his ancestors. The only brother he is, is yours – isn’t that how you want it?”

It was, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

Wen Ruohan sneered. “Do you think I do not know about you?” he asked. “You, the gifted child, talented and shining, whose world fell apart when your younger siblings died – your father forced you to take on the burden of keeping him intact, told you that you were the only reason he had to live, that you were perfect and therefore had to remain perfect, no matter the cost to you. In his grief he told you that it was because your brother was born that your mother died and you lost everything, and in your grief you believed him; in your rage you lashed out at him, and found that no one would stop you from doing so…it was easy to blame him, wasn’t it?”

Qingheng-jun glared at him.

“It was,” Wen Ruohan said. “You were a child: it was easy to hate where your father hated, to blame where your father blamed, and to lead everyone in the sect to hate right alongside you. You even convinced yourself that you were justified, when in fact you were only jealous – you had to be perfect, while he could be anything at all.”

He casually slammed his fellow sect leader into the wall once more.

“But you knew better. You knew. You had friends, you had allies, you even had Lao Nie, who knows more than most about righteousness – even if you were blameless for what you did as a child, led on by those failures that were your elders, the same cannot be said for you as an adult. You have learned morality and ethics, and yet you chose to continue that hatred, to rely on that crutch – to take the easy route, the selfish route. Why bother to do the work to improve yourself?”

Why bother indeed.

For some reason, Wen Ruohan was suddenly reminded of Lan Qiren’s eyes at the Fire Palace, full of horror and heartbreak, the way he looked as though his world had shattered even as he’d fled – as if leaving Wen Ruohan behind were the hardest choice he’d ever had to make, rather than a betrayal.

It’s easy to hate, he suddenly thought, his own words echoing back at him. The easy route, the crutch…

Wen Ruohan frowned instinctively before casting the thought aside to be examined at a later time.

“You should have done better,” he concluded. “You should do better?”

Qingheng-jun laughed in his face. “Why should I?” he asked savagely. “What use is he to me?”

“Use?” Wen Ruohan asked, and somehow found himself surprised by the question. Not a pleasant surprise, the way it had been when Lan Qiren had effortlessly resisted his compulsion as a child, or when he had turned out to be a thoughtful and oddly charming conversationalist, passionate about his interests and willing to share them as if he were handing out pieces of himself; it was merely that old familiar surprise that there were people this stupid in this world. “Do treasures need to be useful to be valuable?”

“You do not understand,” Qingheng-jun said, and that was the most absurd thing Wen Ruohan had yet heard: of course he understood. He understood far too well the darker emotions of humanity, the way they failed people and twisted people into terrible things – even Lan Qiren had his faults, his temper and his inflexibility; Wen Ruohan did not deceive himself into thinking that his sworn brother was a saint.

But he was himself, and that was worth something.

Even if someone like Qingheng-jun could not see it.

Wen Ruohan listened with only half an ear as Qingheng-jun spoke, seeking to justify himself and his behavior. It didn’t really matter what he said, not really; it was only excuses, in the end.

Instead of listening, Wen Ruohan recalled to himself the distant past: the madness of the Lan sect of his father’s generation, the chaos and terror of the wars they had begun – the miracles and atrocities they would and did commit for the sake of a loved one. They loved so deeply, these Lans; deeply and wholly and blindly, every one of them. To be the subject of their love would be to be their entire world, and even Qingheng-jun’s mad infatuation with the girl He Kexin was merely a pale echo of that love, though he did not know it. He loved the freedom she represented to him, not her: if he had loved her, he would have valued her happiness over his and let her go, no matter how he felt.

Put their happiness over your own, think first of what they would want, what would be better for them rather than what you wanted – only the madness of denying yourself for the sake of another was love.

A strange thought, although a useless one.

He was not a Lan, after all.

Still, however old, the memories of that past still lingered, leaving their mark on his heart all these years later – of all the sects in the cultivation world, Wen Ruohan was most wary of the Lan.

“I’m taking Qiren back to the Nightless City with me,” he interrupted Qingheng-jun.

“Good!” the other man shouted. “Keep him!”

Wen Ruohan somehow hadn’t expected him to say that, and for a moment he felt seized with glee.

Yes, he thought to himself, suddenly pleased. Yes, I will keep him; is that not what I want from him, what I have long wanted from him? I have thought of him every day since he has gone, dreamt of him every night; there is a poison that has sunk within my veins that wears his face and torments me endlessly, and he himself is the only cure I can think of for it. I even have an excuse now, his own sect leader’s word – I don’t have to give him up any longer. I can keep him for good!

And then, in the midst of his joy, he suddenly had a useless thought:

…he won’t be happy about that.

Truly a useless thought. What did Wen Ruohan care about that? Nothing mattered – nothing ever mattered, nothing but him and what he wanted, his wishes and his desires.

He was the only real thing in the world, him and only him, standing alone.

All good things in the world ought to go to him, be with him. It would make him happy to have Lan Qiren with him, to keep him by his side; what did it matter what Lan Qiren, that mayfly only a little more interesting than other mayflies, would prefer? What did it matter that Lan Qiren loved his sect, which did not value him as it should? What did it matter that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, who did not return it?

Wen Ruohan would take him away from it all, keep him by his side, and Lan Qiren would be better off for it, no matter what he thought he wanted.

It was as simple as that.

“You will never cause him trouble again,” Wen Ruohan said, even though it was pointless: if he wasn’t going to let Lan Qiren return, then such warnings were unnecessary. “Or else this will not end so lightly.”

Qingheng-jun sneered at him.

Wen Ruohan sneered back and dropped him, turning back to the door.

He would carry Lan Qiren back to the Nightless City himself, he decided. He would carry him in his arms as he flew on his sword, and make sure that he was untroubled throughout the entire journey.

His shining pearl.

He’d take good care of it.

#mdzs #wen ruohan #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #since so many people were asking for it #some context for WRH's eureka moment in chapter 23

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melodyofmbaku · 3 years

Text

In Between the Lines Chapter 2 (Erik Stevens x OC)

Teaser [1]

Prompt: “C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst... I can’t help it.

That was her problem.

Elloise couldn't see. So she liked to touch.

It was how she was able to experience the world. It was also the bane of Erik’s existence.

She was always fiddling & touching and it drove him right up the wall.

Didn't she know that some people would misinterpret her actions?

That’s exactly why he hung around her so much, she was entirely too trusting. And he didn't want someone with ill intentions to take advantage of her.

That’s what it was.

Not because he wanted her hands to be on him and him only.

Or because he wanted to see exactly what that mouth could do.

It was because she had a bleeding heart for every seemingly suffering individual and it would be her downfall.

That’s what it was.

As such he made it his mission to weave his way into her days because Elloise was one of the few people he actually liked around here.

He remembers the first time he met the woman who had ownership of his heart.

It was 2 years ago when hehad just arrived at the palace. The place that was supposed to be his home. After he decided to work alongside T’Challa to better improve relations between Wakanda and the rest of the world it was decided.

He could learn more about his father, his birth place, and detach from his old hobby.

Killing people.

So when the young man approached him with a smile on his face and gesturing towards his gear he put a stop to it quick.

He still had some of his pieces on him and he didn’t want that getting messed with.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled an “nah I’m good boss” under his breath before walking around him.

The man began to follow him, looking intently at him with a confused look on his face.

“Do you need some help with your bags?” He gestured to his belongings once more.

“I’m good man.” He responded back again lowly. What was this dude’s problem?

Then he heard it. Her.

"Would you quit mumbling under your breath? If you have something to say, speak up, if not, you'd be better off shutting up".

He looked to the side and took in the woman who emerged from one of the many entrances that lead to the front hall.

She looked lithe and soft. She had dark skin and plump lips, wild coily hair, and a dress that accentuated her waist dangerously. Her cleavage was artfully on display and he was definitely taking a look.

This was the exact kind of woman he enjoyed whining, dining and bending over at the end of the night.

He would also probably do something wicked to that mouth…

He cocked his head and the corner of his lip lifted up in amusement.

“What you say ma?”

He watched as she walked towards him with intent and an odd aura of grace.

Interesting.

She stopped much too close to him.

"Erik... when you entered these grounds — the palace — my house — because that's what this is... my house — you consented to abiding to the rules of this household”.

"Some of which include forgoing your "I used to kill people for a living" vibe so that the differently abled individuals in the residence can comfortably get their jobs done".

What was she going on about? Differently abled?

She gestured to the young man who came to take his bags.

"James is hard of hearing. It helps that you speak clearly, and preferably facing him, so he can better assist you".

Erik turned to take him in. Then he saw it.

James smiled politely and gestured to the tiny hearing aid that was discreetly placed behind his ear.

Erik swallowed. He felt like a dick. He palmed the back of his neck.

"Nah uh... I'll carry my own weight." he responded after clearing his throat.

James nodded and looked back at the woman as if waiting for a command.

She turned to him "Thanks James, it seems like Mr. Stevens has it covered. You can go now."

The young man nodded and went on his was and Erik could’ve sworn he heard a snicker from him as he retreated. He glared at his retreating back.

"Can I touch you"? she asked tilting her head.

"What"? he asked confused.

She gestured toward his face. “Can I touch you? Your face specifically”. She repeated.

Erik squinted still trying to understand what exactly her problem was.

"Why the fu —". She never let him finish.

"We'll be spending a lot of time together now that you’re officially part of the royal family”.

“What’s that gotta do with you touching me?”.

"To save you further embarrassment, and a repeat scenario… in case you missed it Mr. Stevens... I'm blind". She pointed to her eyes to convey her point.

There was a moment of silence before Erik realized.

He wasn't sure how he missed it. He was getting comfortable and terribly out of practice.

She had done a very good job of presenting as normal as possible.

He ducked lower to her level to meet her eyes. True enough her deep brown eyes were unfocused and there seemed to be a gray film over them but they were brown nonetheless.

She repeated her question.

"Can I touch your face, so I know what you look like?” she gestured to him leaning forward invasively close.

“What if I say no”? He responded back defiantly. She wouldn’t catch him slipping twice.

“Then you say no”. she shrugged leaning back.

“I wouldn’t touch you without your consent, another one of our house rules that I hope you’ll remember”. She replied in a patronizing fashion.

He took offence.

“I’m a killer, not a rapist.” he spat out.

“That’s good to hear”. she commented before walking up the stairs encouraging him to follow.

“I’ll show you to your room, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Erik.”

And that was the beginning of their relationship.

He idled about and nursed a drink in his hands and tried to look the least bit engaged at this donor dinner. He hated these dinners.

He’d have to watch Elloise on his cousins arm the entire night. Not to forget the attendees who were there for selfish political gain alone.

He watched closely as she made the rounds with T’challa around the room. She had chosen a deep green dress with a dangerous V that held his attention throughout the night.

T’challa paraded her around the room like the gift she was and he knew this was the part of him she fell in love with.

That’s why he was surprised to find her alone and still dressed to the nines in the palace kitchen in the middle of the night.

He had changed into his comfortable sweats and made his way over to decide on which concoction of alcohol would knock him out for the night.

She had a plate of lamb and potatoes untouched in front of her.

She didn’t startle when he spoke. She probably knew he was here based on his cologne or possibly just heard him when he came in.

“Midnight snack?” He paused and sat in the seat across from her.

“I got the chef to make me something then sent him away.” She spoke clearly. He heard the hardness in her voice.

She was upset.

He saw that the lamb sat on the play uncut and her hands lay in her lap.

“Let me get some of that.”He reached over for the plate and she stopped him.

“Erik. I like lamb.” She held onto the plate refusing to let up.

He sighed.

“Here, I got it.” He stretched his hands for the cutlery.

“I can do it myself.” She protested eyebrows furrowing.

“I know that.”

She still held onto the fork with hostility. She was upset.

“I like doing this so relax okay? You know it’s not like that.” he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and awaited her answer.

With that she reluctantly released the cutlery to him and folded her hands in her lap carefully.

She heard the fork and knife scrape against the plate as Erik cut it into pieces. She couldn't help but inhale a little bit deeper.

She liked the way he smelled. Erik always smelled like warmth..

She didn't know what to do with her hands. They were always doing something. Touching, feeling, studying, working.

She tried so hard to not be caught lacking, to be looked at as unable.

She would always have an excuse, because of her condition, but she pushed herself to insane lengths to never have to use it.

With Erik she was able to relax without being scrutinized, when it was just the two of them it was different.

This was... nice. She liked it.

"Potatoes too?" he asked wondering if he should slice up the baby potatoes that accompanied the lamb on her plate.

She shook her head — negative, she liked them whole.

"Thank you". she replied back softly.

"Don't mention it". He responded before carefully handing the fork back to her.

Her fingers lingered on his hand a moment before she pulled them away seemingly unaware.

Erik lived for moments like these.

He watched attentively as she speared the tender meat and placed it in her mouth and began to chew.

“Where’s T? Why isn’t he here with you right now?” He was sure he’d be tearing it up tonight. She looked that damn good.

She paused and looked down. “He… got called away for an emergency.”

They both knew what that meant. Erik wanted blood.

“You can’t let him get away with disrespecting you like this El. Tell somebody. The elders. Anybody.” He urged with subdued rage.

“Would they blame him? Or would his actions be chalked up to something else?” She shifted in her seat.

“Maybe how in more than one way I’m not enough.” She placed another piece of meat into her mouth and chewed slowly.

Despite the hot anger that flowed through his veins, he knew it was the truth.

He hated that it was the truth.

He despised his cousin for taking that vulnerable woman and turning her into this.

He was going to end him.

They weren’t that close anyways.

He could see it now.

He’d start from his left hip bone and do a clean cut — probably with something classic. Like a black pearl switchblade. Then he’d —

“You can’t say anything Erik.” she commanded. It was if she heard him plotting.

He scoffed.

“It’s not your right.” She said.

Her mouth was sharp as ever.

He hated that mouth.

He dreamed of that mouth.

He was the forgotten cousin. An honorary royal. Offered a position for blood ties and even then, it was decorative.

An outcast.

Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

She placed another potato between her lips.

He rose from his seat and stood behind her.

He began to remove the large decorated pins from her pressed hair. His fingers reached the nape of her neck and she finally released the tension that her body held.

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything.” He spoke lowly above her, focused on the task at hand.

She leaned into his hand and he snuck his fingers into her hair and found her scalp.

He rubbed at it gently, product would cling to his fingers later but he didn’t mind it.

“We’re the same you and I.” She hummed.

He cocked his head and continued his task.

He never understood her when she said that. But in fear of being scolded he kept quiet.

She was good. So good. He was bad bad bad.

He felt her shuffle to rise and he stopped his actions unwillingly.

She sat up and he reluctantly removed his fingers from her head.

She ran her palms down her dress to straighten it out before she looked in his direction.

“You’re harmless. ” She joked lightly before lifting her hand awaiting his arm to lead her back to her room.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Girl, you should be scared of me.” He murmured slyly.

She rolled her eyes.

He offered her his arm and she grasped it in a familiar fashion and let him lead her.

They walked leisurely through the hallways. When he didn’t get a response to his last statement he assumed his previous joke fell flat.

“Erik, when are you gonna go?” She asked softly. Her fingers added more pressure into his arms, concern lacing her tone.

She’s been pestering him for months to go to therapy — deal with his murderous thoughts.

He didn’t like the idea.

So he wasn’t going to do it.

“I’ll go when you go.” He shot back.

She sniffed and turned her face away from him.

He grinned cheekily, dimples shining through.

“You know why I can’t go. It’d be taboo for me. Plus, they treat me like an invalid.” he watched her mouth twist into a scowl.

He scoffed, and continued to lead them to her destination.

Their route was coming to an end and he knew she felt it.

As they got closer and closer to her quarters her grip tightened on his bicep. And he paused.

“Erik I’m scared.” she whispered.

“If he can do this. Openly. In our room. In our bed, then...”

“What’s next? What’s next for me?“ she looked in his direction — lost.

“If he don’t got you, I got you.” He crowded her space and bent down so he could be level with her.

She needed to understand that she could rely on him for anything. He wasn’t sure he knew just how deep his feelings went for her.

She lifted her hands to hold his face. It was how she saw. Her hands immediately found his beard. He saw the tears pool in the corner of her eyes.

“Anytime you get scared you call me. You hear me?”

Her gaze was downcast. This wouldn’t do.

“I’ll gut em. Like fishes. The whole lotta them.” He pushed out huskily.

“Erik...” she murmured disapprovingly.

“You believe me?” He asked.

“I —“

“C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.” He pushed lowly committed to making her see that she wasn’t alone, he was there.

“Yes Erik, I believe you.” She whispered lowly. She quickly wiped the tears that had slid down her face disobediently.

“Good.”

“Goodnight E.” She stepped back and turned to her door. He watched as she steadied herself.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and crushing her in his embrace.

He wanted to grab her and kiss away her fears.

Instead he subdued his wants and watched her walk through her door.

The door to the room she shared with T’Challa.

He spun around and began the familiar path back to the kitchen.

After knocking back the drink of the night he steadied himself.

Erik walked to his chambers in the same manner he did every night — longing for his cousin's wife.

Taglist:

@fd-writes @amorestevens @raysunshine78 @adreamsublime

Idek what I’m even doing with this story but lmk what you think 💜

If you want to be added to the taglist just comment.

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9.3

Boatem had a new member. Joe introduced Foolish to all the Hermits in Boatem but didn’t stay long before heading off to see if he could help X with the server problem. Once Joe found out that Cleo was gone he was determined to find a way to get her back. Grian was glad that X was getting some help, and he couldn’t think of anyone better than Joe when it came to server magic.

Foolish was rather nice too. Unlike the other two Dream SMP members he actually seemed to have a head for building. Grian soon found himself deep in a conversation about design problems and building pallets. Foolish even commiserated with him over interiors.

Pearl and Scar agreed to help Foolish settle in but he seemed pretty capable on his own. He just needed a little help with material collection. Foolish chose to build his house in the space between Grian's house and Scar’s Landboat. He went with a design that used sandstone as the main wall color and used spruce wood for support structures and detailing.

Even though Scar was supposed to be the one helping, Grian couldn’t help it and found himself hanging around as Foolish built. Grian wasn’t supposed to do strenuous building yet but he could still watch. Foolish showed Grian the building plans before he started. It was of an impressive size for a starter house, one that didn’t look out of place next to Grian, Scar or Pearls ridiculously large starters. It was going to be a multi-tiered house that got bigger as it went up taking inspiration from medieval houses. A crooked tower came out of the side of the building on the second floor and broke through the roof.

Grian sat in a lawn chair in front of his house and watched Foolish build, Adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he looked up.

Foolish stood on the roof near the base of the half finished tower. A Cobbled deepslate foundation at the bottom gave way to smooth sandstone, spruce logs made up support pillars at intervals with empty spaces for widows between.

“Looking good,” Grian called up.

Foolish looked back, shading his eyes with his hand, and smiled. “It’s coming along… I’m running low on sandstone though. I am going to need more if I am going to finish the tower. He carefully slid down the roof and climbed down the scaffolding. He brushed his hands off at the bottom and walked over to where Grian sat so he could get a better look at the build. “It could use some detailing, maybe some more color.” Foolish muttered

“Copper might look good. Or maybe some leaves and plants.” Grian suggested.

“Window boxes. That’s a good idea.” Foolish announced, brightening up. Grian watched as Foolish collected some grass from the yard, replacing it with dirt so it could grow back. Foolish walked over to the side of the house, and grew to over double his previous size, before proceeding to build window boxes under the second story windows.

Grian started at the sudden change and almost fell out of his chair “Wait, what? How did you-?”

Foolish turned around and looked down at Grian, “Oh right, this.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is nothing. I usually stay small because it is more convenient, but it’s useful for building sometimes, especially detail work.” He shrunk back down to a ‘normal’ size and looked at his hands flexing them. “Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in over a century… maybe, Like this, I might even be able to-” he looked up at Grian, a new kind of resolve and hopefulness in his eyes. “Grian do you have any gold and some emeralds I can borrow. I need to try something.”

Grian hesitated. This was server magic. That could be dangerous. But he was also curious. He stood up and nodded, “I have a little, how much do you need?”

Foolish came over “Only two emeralds and two blocks of gold.”

“Alright,” Grian nodded “That’s easy enough. What are you planning to do with it?”

“Oh you’ll see,” Foolish said, grinning with barely contained excitement.

Grian had an uneasy feeling about this but Joe had said that this guy had a really solid grasp on server magic, better than anyone Joe had ever seen before, even himself. Grian decided to trust him, maybe he could learn something. Something that could help them fix the crack Grian had made.

Grian went inside his house and opened his ender chest. Taking out the materials requested he handed them to Foolish who had followed him.

Foolish took the materials outside and placed them on the ground. “Alright stay back this should only take a minute,” Foolish said.

Grian watched from the doorway of his house.

Foolish took a deep centering breath and closed his eyes. He held his hand out over the pile of gold and gems. There was a tingle in the air. Green sparks danced along Foolish’s arm and between his fingers. The sky grew overcast with dark clouds and a rumble of thunder sounded.

Foolish shouted a word in enchantment-table that Grian recognized as meaning “Life.” and he was momentarily blinded by a bright green flash of light.

Grian blinked looking around. The sun was out again, the sky clear and standing in front of Foolish was a little girl made of gold with emerald eyes.

Foolish went down on one knee, beaming and holding out a hand to her. “What’s your name?”

She blinked at his hand for a moment then smiled “My name is Genesis,” She said grinning up at Foolish.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Foolish chuckled and picked her up, turning to Grian, “Grian, meet my daughter, Genesis.”

Grian stared in shock, his head spinning. His daughter?

---

Xisuma Immediately felt it. Like someone had just reached in and yanked a piece of the server free. It left him breathless. It was violent, but also precise.

“You ok there?” Joe asked, leaning over the table from where he had been looking through some old books on server magic.

X looked up at Joe from across the table. Fear wavering in his eyes. “You said that our latest visitor had experience with server magic right?”

Joe nodded slowly and frowned, “Yeah, he didn’t seem that concerned about the consequences either. Said he was experienced enough to know how to avoid them.”

“I just felt a surge of server magic. It felt like something reaching in and ripping a piece of its heart out.” X’s brows furrowed and he rested his hand on his chest over his heart.

“It’s heart…?” Joe muttered

X stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor “Come on, we need to go to Boatem and figure out what’s going on.”

---

X and Joe arrived in Boatem to find Foolish surrounded by the other Boatem members asking him excited questions while George and Skeppy watched from the roof of Skeppy’s house. X caught the concerned look Grian gave him as they approached.

Foolish turned around and for the first time X noticed the little girl in his arms. He didn’t need to ask to know she wasn’t an npc. She was a Player. A player who was a child? That was impossible. The second thing he noticed was that her energy matched that of the server.

He pulled up his GUI and checked Tab. She was there. She was listed as Genesis. Not only that but she was whitelisted, and unlike the other Dream SMP members, the server didn’t think she was one of the hermits.

Foolish furrowed his brow with concern, “Xisuma, what’s wrong?”

X snapped himself out of it and looked up at Foolish “What did you do?”

Foolish blinked. He looked genuinely confused. “Um, this is my daughter Genesis.”

“He made her out of some gold and emeralds twenty minutes ago.” Grian clarified.

“Um- Foolish,” Joe started carefully. “You know that’s not normal right?”

Foolish frowned holding his daughter closer.

“What we mean to say is that Players shouldn’t be able to make other Players.” X tried to explain.

“Just because you haven’t figured out how to do it doesn’t make it wrong. You wouldn’t understand, you've never been a father…”

“Whatever you did to the server, didn’t feel right. Normal new player spawning occurs when a server has excess energy that it needs to discharge, creating a player. You just took that energy before the server was ready. What you did was reckless at best, I haven’t had a chance to assess the damages but you may have just ruined our chances of us being able to fix this and send you all home. I don’t even know if that little girl can go with you when you go. She probably isn’t even whitelisted on your server.”

Foolish’s shoulders sagged and he looked off to the side. Genesis tugged at the fabric of his headdress and rested her head against his shoulder “Pa pa, Is this my fault? Are they mad because of me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Foolish sighed and shifted her on his hip so she could see him smile “It isn’t your fault. And I don’t regret anything.”

X softened. What was done was done. It wasn’t fair to the child to hold it against them. Though the idea of a Player being such a young child was still strange to him. “Just don’t do any more server magic alright.” X sighed.

Foolish looked at X, a hint of resentment, or was it regret, behind his eyes, “Alright,” He nodded. X hoped he meant it. Maybe there was a good reason the DSMP locked it’s members in.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #hermitcraft #dream smp #dsmp #hermitcraft au #dream smp au #dsmp au #hc x dsmp au #foolish gamers #grian #xisuma #joe hills #good times with scar #pearlecentmoon #skeppy #georgenotfound #oc!genesis

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crowsmybeloveds · 3 years

Text

Shadow and Bone Series: Chapter Six

Bag of Bones

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x Reader

Summary: Y/N opens up more to Jesper about her past with Pekka Rollins, which has some unforeseen consequences.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Past (physical, emotional, sexual) abuse; Drug use; canon typical violence; roofies; Pekka Rollins; the Menagerie

A/N: dear lord there is so much going on in this one idk where to start... but thank you guys again for reading ❤️❤️❤️ also I think there’s one more chapter before the rewrite but don’t quote me on that

Masterlist

When Y/N and Inej arrived at the Slat (after getting muffins, of course), Kaz was there waiting.

“It went well, I suppose?” Kaz looked at them expectantly.

Inej spoke up quickly, “You didn’t tell me she was going to kill him, Kaz.”

Kaz made eye contact with her, and spoke to Y/N. “So, you did it?”

“Of course,” Y/N replied, “I left the other alive. He’ll make sure the message is sent.”

“Good,” Kaz nodded, before pointing upstairs, “Go find Jesper, he’s been annoying me all evening about when you might come back.”

Y/N said no more, going up the stairs to Jesper’s room. When she reached the door, she could feel the nervous energy coming from inside. His light was on, and she could hear a light tapping sound. She knocked on the door.

“Jesper?” She called as she cracked the door open. He was sitting on his cot, anxiously bouncing his foot and fiddling with his pearl-handled revolvers.

He looked up at her, noticeably relaxing when he realized she was okay. He got up and walked over to her, his hands on her shoulders, giving her a once over. He noticed blood on her face, arms, and the back of her head from her brief fight with the man she had left unconscious.

“Oh, darling, what did they do to you?” His voice was sad, worried.

“You should see the other guy,” She joked, a desperate attempt to make him smile. It didn’t work.

“Kaz said you shouldn’t get hurt on this job,” he shook his head. “And it would be ridiculous to worry.”

Y/N shrugged. “I went in too early. It’s my fault.”

“Why would you do that?”

She bit her tongue. Because that man said he took pleasure in conning you, so I took pleasure in killing him. “Rookie mistake, I guess.”

“Okay,” he responded, nodding his head excessively, trying to think through what to do next. Suddenly, he pushed her toward his cot and then moved toward the door. “Um, you sit your pretty self here, and I’m going to go get some bandages.”

Y/N frowned. “You don’t have to —“

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Don’t fight me on this. Stay there.” He brought two fingers to his eyes to make an ‘I’m watching you’ signal, and then he was out the door.

When he came back, he had a few bottles and enough bandages to fix up every member of the Dregs.

“I never took you for a medik, country boy.” She laughed as he sat down next to her.

He shook his head with a small smile. I’d be anything you needed me to be, Y/N. “Let me see your arm.” He lifted up her hand so he could see the back of her upper arm, which was bloody and red. “Saints, what happened?”

“Oh, I killed one of them, as you do,” She took a large breath. His worried eyes and gentle touch made the air heavy enough that she felt like gasping. “And the other one got mad. Pushed me into a brick wall.”

He looked back at her face, jaw clenching. His seriousness made her nervous. Normally, he had a joke even in situations that really didn’t call for one. Now he was way too serious for the situation at hand. What was going on?

He was trying to clear his thoughts, but it was difficult. Even the slightest injury on her made him want to go ballistic, even if she had proved that she could handle herself. Jesper had always loved risk and danger, but he never wanted it to involve her.

Y/N noticed, and it made guilt fill her stomach. She could practically see his mind spinning at a mile a minute, and not in the way it normally did. Normally, the two would be sending jokes back and forth at record speed, now it was still and silent. Both of them felt uneasy and tense.

“Hey,” she placed her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her, “I’m okay. Relax.”

He nodded, turning back to her arm and picking up a bottle. “Right. I know. I just don’t like this.” He covered a rag in the liquid and moved it toward her arm. “This is going to sting.”

She hissed as he placed it on the wound. He worked quickly, bandaging her arm and moving to work on the back of her head. This one hurt much more, and tears sprung in her eyes as he worked. He was pulling a piece of rubble from the bricks out of her hair when he heard her whimper.

He flinched at the sound, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sorry, petal. I have to keep going.”

He finished with her hair and moved to clean the blood off of her face. They both knew that she could handle doing so on her own, but they didn’t say anything. She got lost in his gray eyes as he worked, and he looked more focused than he ever had in the time she knew him.

When he finished he sat down next to her on the cot, taking a deep breath. “Done.”

She noticed his hands twitching again and placed her hand in his, letting him play with her fingers to relieve his anxiety. He rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes as he breathed heavily, trying to regain his normal pattern. Y/N frowned at him, concerned.

“I’m sorry I made you so worried, Jes.”

“It’s not your fault,” He replied, sighing. “It just makes me nervous when you have to use your Grisha abilities in public. I know it’s dangerous for us out there.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Us?”

“Forget it.”

“No, Jesper, why aren’t you safe? What’s wrong?” Y/N sat up straighter, panicking.

Jesper swallowed. As much as he knew he should lie, he didn’t want to. He trusted her.

But he was worried about how she would react. He knew she wouldn’t have any prejudice against Grisha, seeing as she was one, but his past was always telling him to be ashamed. In all honesty, his powers had always terrified him, ever since he’d been told not to use them. It wasn’t just the strength that he carried when compared to his father, it was the idea that he should be doing something different, or be someone different. Maybe he was meant to be a soldier, like so many of the Grisha around him. What was he doing there, then? Disappointing people and playing card games? He had been hiding his powers from most of the people he knew for so long. Why say something now?

Despite all his anxieties, he told her. “I’m Grisha.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No.”

He looked back at her. “Yes.”

She sat up straight and smiled. “No way!” She shoved him playfully. “What kind?”

“A Durast.” He replied, feeling less anxious.

“Saints, we are both Fabrikators!” Y/N grabbed him by his shoulders. “That’s sick!”

He smiled back at her, but it was a small one. Even if she approved of him, it didn’t mean she should. He wanted to say that he was like her, able to use his powers despite not going to the Little Palace. Instead, he was just a confused boy who could barely bend a piece of metal.

“I’m not,” He shook his head, thinking, “I can’t really do much of anything.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t really want to learn either.” She told him, leaning forward to force him to look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“My dad didn’t want me using my powers,” Jesper spoke, feeling as if his throat was closing in. “My mom, um, she— my mom was,” He couldn’t get the words out and tears were filling his eyes.

“You don’t have to, I get it.” She interrupted, realizing it was a tough topic for him to talk about.

They sat back against the wall, Y/N holding onto Jespers arm and leaning her head on his shoulder. He thought she was too focused on playing with his rings to see the way he was looking down at her. His being a Grisha was something that had messed with him his whole life, but she had been able to calm him down about it in less than thirty minutes. It is getting harder every minute to keep myself from loving her.

Y/N was trying not to focus on the crush that she had on him. She still hadn’t forgotten the date he had gone on not long ago. She didn’t think that he wanted her. He had no reason to. So, she messed around with his rings, pretending she was more interested in the gems on them than the fact that she could feel his eyes on her. Eventually it stopped working, and it became overwhelming.

She sat up quickly and he held himself back from cringing at the loss. “What if we went and got some food, country boy?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“And?”

Saints, I fucking love her. “They have really good sandwiches at this one place in Little Ravka.”

“Perfect.”

An hour later they sat at a small metal table outside a restaurant in Little Ravka, watching the small boats go through the canal.

“Ok, love, how’s the sandwich?” Jesper asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s really good.”

“Just really good, huh?” He teased. “Not the best sandwich you’ve ever had?”

She shook her head. “No, it is.”

“Liar.”

She looked up at him, rolling her eyes. “It’s good, Jesper. An amazing recommendation! You are truly the best sandwich connoisseur in all of Kerch! Need I praise you further?”

“Maybe just one more?” He smirked, picking his sandwich up again.

“Fuck off.”

They continued to joke as they ate their sandwiches. The anxiety of the night finally started to shed off of them as they enjoyed their meals. It was moments like these where they both felt so content with each other’s presence that their minds couldn’t find a way to ruin it. There wasn’t any dread or feeling that one wasn’t good enough for the other. Just longing glances and stupid jokes. A pair of crushing idiots.

As they walked along the canal on their route home, the sun was rising, and Jesper found himself more focused on the light reflecting on Y/N’s hair than the conversation they were having.

“...I wanted to be one so much.” She sighed, looking at the water. “It would be so much cooler to drown people to death than to drug them. Maybe that’s just me.”

Jesper tried to put together a response from the bits and pieces of her story that he had caught. “I can’t see you as a Tidemaker, although I’d imagine you’d still be your gorgeous self.”

She looked away to make sure he didn’t see the flustered look on her face from his flirting. Saints, does he ever stop? “Or, and I know it’s childish, but I bet, if I was a Squaller, I could figure out how to fly.”

He laughed. “I don’t think anyone has.”

“Well, I’m not just anyone.” She replied with a fake tone of anger in her voice.

His eyes lingered on her face. “No, I suppose you’re not.”

She tried to pretend she didn’t notice, but his flirting was becoming unbearable. How was this the same man who abandoned her for a date less than a week ago?

“Could you imagine if I could fly, though?” She tried to distract herself from her anxiety over him by ranting, as she usually did. “I could get such a good view of everything, and I’m sure Kaz would find a use for it. I could go anywhere, no fees or anything. Who is going to put a toll on the sky?”

Jesper smiled at her. He loved the way she looked when she ranted about something she was passionate about, even if they both knew it was stupid. He didn’t really care. He just wanted her to be happy. Saints, there was a heavy gold music machine in the Slat to prove it.

She kept going, pointing up at the sky to a bird overhead. “I’d be like a bird, just how they always called me.”

Y/N hadn’t meant to dampen the mood with what she had said, but Jesper stiffened at her words anyway. She had been referring to the men at the Emerald Palace. Specifically, Pekka Rollins, who called her a canary. Jesper remembered his words when Inej had first told him about the title. Of course Pekka would give her a creepy nickname. At the time, it had seemed like a joke. Now, seeing how every single aspect of that place had affected her in one way or the other made him feel sick to his stomach. He’d sell his revolvers and never play a hand of cards again if it meant he could go back in time and save her from her past.

“Why did he call you that?” He blurted, not even thinking.

She tilted her head. “Canary?”

A silence washed over them. Panic raised in Jesper’s throat like bile. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

She shushed him. “No, no. It’s fine. It was weird.” She gulped and grabbed his hand, fiddling with his rings as they walked. “Warrants a question or two I think.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concern in his eyes.

She nodded. “He called me that because I was his song bird. He’d tell me what to do and say I’d repeat it without a second thought. He gave me a song and I sang it.” She sighed, looking out at the water, feeling nervous. It’s just Jesper. He’s not going to treat you any different. “It’s pathetic, but I thought it was like a pet name, you know? Like, he told me he loved me and I was fucking grasping for it. Embarrassing.”

She tried to play it off like it was a joke. One of those stories that was a little bit embarrassing but you knew you’d laugh about it in the future. They both had a habit of reducing things down into something from a comedy, even when it should be a tragedy. When it should be something that would land them in a mental institution for the rest of their days. But because they both used humor as a way to deflect, they saw through each other’s bullshit like it was a piece of glass.

He knew the things she spoke about were hurting her, but she didn’t want to seem like she was weak enough to still be fazed by it. But he was. Pekka told her he loved her. After everything he did to her, he turned around and told her it was love. I’m going to kill him.

He tried not to show his anger in his voice as he spoke up. “He told you he loved you?”

Y/N nodded. “All the time. I don’t believe it now, of course, but at the time it was kind of comforting.”

“What?” His eyes bored into her, holding on to every word she said.

She picked at her fingernails, realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to laugh this one off. The conversation was beginning to feel too vulnerable for her liking, but for the first time, she decided not to run from it. Jesper is there for me. He’s not going to tell anyone, he just wants to know because he cares. “It was comforting, to feel loved. Even if it was…” she took a deep, shaking breath. “...The way it was.”

They had started to turn from the harbor into the city, passing more and more gaudy stands and sinful institutions as they got closer and closer to home in the Barrel.

Jesper had gone silent at Y/N’s last words, and it was killing her. She had thought that he wouldn’t judge her, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to curse her out for being a whore, or helping the enemy. Maybe, he finally got the information he needed and now she was going to go back to her stark basement.

He hadn’t really been quiet for that long. Maybe a few seconds. But to her, it felt like hours. The sky was getting darker and she felt a familiar fear rise up in her stomach. The fear that she wasn’t keeping good company. The fear that she had trusted the wrong man. Again.

“That’s not,” Jesper breathed his words out, still not fully understanding how to form them. His hands twitched toward his revolvers, longing to shoot something. “That’s not okay, love.”

Her heart dropped. “Sorry?”

“You don’t deserve that.” He said, his voice firm. “That’s not what love is, petal.”

He was trying to help her, show her that he cared, but his tone of voice and the words he used made her cringe. It reminded her of men who loved her because of the things she didn’t know. Men who took a liking to her innocence like it was their favorite ice cream topping. Something that could be taken off, abused, manipulated, indulged in. She got angry at the thought of Jesper treating her the same way. Of course I know that’s not what love is. I’m not a child. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Acting like I’m weak all of the time.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t —“

“Then what is this?” She stopped suddenly, moving into an empty alley and placing a hand on her forehead as she spoke, “The flirting, and the pet names, and the patching up the tiniest scratches like I’m something so precious.”

Jesper threw his hands up in the air. “You are!”

“Why can’t you accept that I am not the perfect girl you think I am, Jes?” Her voice cracked. Most of the anger was gone, replaced with desperation. “I have killed so many people. I have seduced men into ruining their own lives. I am so fucked that I thought I was in love with Pekka fucking Rollins. What about me is untainted? Why are you begging and screaming for me to be so pure when I am obviously not?”

“I don’t understand why this has you upset, dove.” He looked at her with pitiful eyes, reaching toward her.

She pushed his arm away. “You are grasping at my innocence like it is something you require of me. It’s suffocating.”

He still wasn’t sure where this argument stemmed from, but he knew it ran deeper than him. She had an inherent distrust of people ever since he had met her, and he knew her trust of him was too good to be true. It still made his chest hurt.

He tentatively moved to hold her face in his hands. She shuddered at first, but after a few seconds she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, grasping tightly onto his arms.

“I don’t need you to be anything, Y/N.” Jesper softly reassured her. “You’re already everything.”

She opened her eyes and looked into his, looking for some sign of deception or contempt. There was none to be found. His eyes held so much adoration she swore she could faint. She didn’t want this. She wanted more. “You said I don’t deserve whatever Pekka Rollins gave me.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “What do I deserve, then?”

She knew it was childish to ask. To try and force him to admit feelings that she wasn’t even sure he had. But she needed to know. Was he there out of obligation? Pity? Friendship? What was keeping him from leaving her there, and treating her like every other member of the Dregs? She needed the answer, even if it might hurt.

Jesper had always suffered from an excess of energy, but now he felt like he was reaching a boiling point. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and tell her that he wanted her more than anything in the entire world. But she deserved sunshine, candies, luxury, and everything sweet and good in the world. And all he could give her was the miserable life she was living now.

What do I deserve, then? Her words rang through his head and he struggled to contain himself. He took a deep breath, reeling himself in. He had known the answer to her question for a while. “Better, Y/N. You deserve better.”

She backed away, her disappointment rising to the surface. He doesn’t want you. You got the answer you wanted. “I appreciate it.”

She was gone before he could even register her leaving.

Jesper walked up the stairs of the Slat, thinking. His mind was at war with itself. That was your chance to be with her, fucking idiot! One side argued. The other half fought back. She doesn’t want me! Despite the divide there was one thought looming over all of the others. I want to kill Pekka Rollins.

He had been angry with the man ever since Inej had told him about Y/N in the alley months ago, but now it was a pure, hateful rage. She could barely express herself to anyone without feeling attacked and now he saw the reason why. She’d been taught that love was painful and difficult in ways unimaginable. Of course she was struggling to be happy. She had been lied to about everything she’d ever experienced, and everything she did felt wrong because of it.

He hadn’t realized where he was headed until he got there. He wasn’t at his bedroom, a coffee shop, or even a gambling den. He was outside of Kaz Brekker’s office. Would it be ridiculous to go in? To confide in Kaz Brekker? Jesper found that Kaz was his best friend, almost a brother, even if it was silly to look at the Bastard of the Barrel that way. He supposed that was one of the things that brought the crows together: having an attachment to one of the deadliest men they had ever met.

Whether it was stupid or not, Jesper knocked and then pushed himself into the room, itching to rant to Kaz about his conflicting night.

Nearby in Inej’s room, Y/N had flopped herself onto a small cot.

“So basically he doesn’t love me and I’m never going to be happy. The end!” Y/N had just finished recounting the night to her best friend, who sat there with wide eyes. She had kept out the part about her “love” with Pekka Rollins. She doubted she’d ever be able to talk about that with anyone again.

“He said you deserve better!” Inej tried to make her feel better. “Not that he doesn’t love you.”

“But he had the perfect opportunity to say he wanted me and he didn’t go for it.” Y/N put a pillow over her face, her tone whiny and childish.

“But that doesn’t mean —“

“Inej, let me wallow.” She took the pillow off her face, glaring jokingly at her friend. “I need it.”

Inej looked at her, concerned, but with a small amused smile on her face. “It seems like you have had a long night where you killed a man and then went out for muffins and then instead of sleeping you went out for sandwiches with your crush—“

Y/N sat up. “And then he was trying to be nice to me and I got defensive and lashed out at him and then tried to get him to confess his love for me that doesn’t exist.” She stared at the wall. “I know the whole story, Inej, it was like an hour ago.”

“What I’m trying to say is maybe you deserve a nap.”

“To hell with what I deserve!” Y/N sighed. “If I hear that word one more time tonight I could throw up. I mean it.”

“Fine, then you need a good nap.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Inej, then opted to ignore her. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Inej struggled to hold in a laugh. “No, enlighten me.”

“He is so attractive.” She placed her palms over her eyes, groaning. “Like, the whole gun thing? I can barely stand it.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am!” Y/N replied, shaking her head, eyebrows knitted in anxiety. “The other day I saw him shoot this guy on a horse perfectly right between the eyes, and it was foggy. I almost passed out.”

Inej tilted her head at her friend, now openly giggling, remembering a conversation she had with Jesper a few days prior.

Inej, I swear to all the Saints if she had knocked out one more of those guards I would have married her on the spot. He’d told her, eyes lovesick as they walked back from a job.

Why don’t you tell her that? Inej smiled at him, enjoying seeing her friend so happy about someone. But she saw a wave of anxiety wash over him at her words, and decided not to press further when he shook his head.

Now, she was practically having the same conversation with the girl in question. Inej smirked to herself, thinking. This is getting unbelievable.

Still, she couldn’t tell anyone about any crushes that she may or may not have known about. She responded to Y/N’s fawning. “What is it about you and being attracted to violence? Should I be concerned?”

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked her, her smile growing and her eyes widening. When Inej shrugged, she continued. “Hmm, let me think.” She placed a hand to her chin, tapping her finger. “Who else in this room has the exact same problem?” She spoke sarcastically, giving an exaggerated shrug.

Inej immediately got flustered. “Y/N, do not —“

“Oh!” Y/N pointed a finger at her friend. “It’s you! You are the woman attracted to the deadliest man in the Barrel! Not me!”

“Saints help me.” Inej put her head in her hands, hiding her embarrassment.

“Oh how the tables have turned!” Y/N smiled, all too happy to be teasing her friend again. “I’m just kidding, Inej. Would a muffin make you feel better?”

“We got muffins like six hours ago.”

“Right,” Y/N looked to the side, thinking. “What should we do, then?”

“I think you should go and talk to Jesper now that you are more clear headed.” Inej advised, always full of good advice. “Maybe this time you won’t yell at him.”

Y/N looked back at her with a doubtful expression. There are so many things I could do instead. She could have gone back out to the harbor, gotten more sandwiches, or muffins, or both, she could take that nap she so desperately needed, or she could lie and say she’s taking a nap and then get some of the jurda she was itching for. So many options that did not include another interaction with Jesper Fahey.

But despite the anxiety their fight gave her and the certainty that he did not love her the way she would like, she still craved his presence. She needed him even more than she needed the jurda she imagined sitting in her desk drawer in her room, waiting for her.

After some more reassurance from Inej, she walked out of the room to go and look for Jesper.

Kaz Brekker found her before she reached the first stair. Correction, Dirtyhands did. He stopped her movements by whipping his cane to block her path, causing her to look up at him.

“My office,” He demanded, turning away to lead her there. “Now.”

His tone of voice sent chills down her spine. She had heard stories of the ruthlessness of Kaz Brekker that had earned him his reputation and (in her opinion) way too many nicknames, but she had never experienced his wrath first hand. Every bone in her body shook as she sat down across from his desk in his office, wondering what she had done to upset him.

She did what she always did when nervous. Talk. “Boss, did I kill the wrong Razorgull, or did I kill him wrong? Either way one of them is dead and they know it’s because of you so —“

“How long have you been in love with Pekka Rollins?” He interrupted her. When she looked up she saw him leaning over his desk that he stood behind, his hands on the table. The way he stood when he was interrogating someone.

The mention of Pekka Rollins’s name caused her to shut her eyes closed and hold back memories. She could get through discussion of the man just fine when she knew it was coming, but when it was thrown upon her, especially in such a threatening manner, it was harder to handle.

After the initial shock of hearing the name, she had something entirely different sending her mind reeling. Did Kaz just ask about her loving Pekka Rollins, or was she dreaming? That was something she kept to herself for the most part. It was something that toyed with her, gave her nightmares, and made her feel like an idiot. She hadn’t told anyone for a reason.

No, she hadn’t told anyone except for Jesper.

Jesper told him. Betrayal and anger surged forward as she blinked tears from her eyes. I told Jesper one of the worst things about me and he ran to tell our boss an hour later.

She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. Kaz was less than thrilled.

“You are,” He spoke, “in love with him, correct?”

Her back straightened. “No, boss, I don’t —“

“When do you have the time to go and see him, Y/N?” He asked, and she could practically see darkness traveling behind his eyes. “What information is there to be taken from your position in the Dregs?”

She sat back in her seat, baffled. Was he being serious? At what point did he decide her getting manipulated meant that she was some sort of spy for the Dime Lions? How do you even draw that conclusion?

Y/N took a deep breath and stared up at him, eyes hard. “Do you think for a second that I would betray you like that? That the second my opportunity comes I will run back into the arms of that man and wait for his orders? Whatever that man did to you, I did not do. I never did anything in that place of my own volition but leave. And now you say you can’t trust me because I may be on his side? This is fucking ridiculous!”

“He manipulated you for years,” Kaz snapped, “it would be shocking if you moved on from him this easily.”

“Easily?” She shouted back, standing up from her seat. “I have a thousand words to describe this entire ordeal and not one of them is easy.”

They stood for a moment, considering the things that had been brought up. Kaz didn’t want to believe that she was against him, but he also knew that he had to be careful. He did not mess around with much, but he was never messing around when it came to Pekka Rollins.

“If you don’t have any loyalty to him, then tell me.”

“Tell you what, Kaz?” She was over calling him boss. She wanted him to understand that he was betraying her with every word he said. It was not business to her, it was so personal that she could throw up, and she knew it was personal to him too. He didn’t deserve to feel detached from it. He deserved to hear his name.

“Tell me everything about Pekka Rollins that you know.”

She scoffed. “As if I haven’t already.”

“Oh, did you?” He responded. “I only seem to recall some muddled financial statements and the tears of a naive girl.”

“I was being drugged, Kaz!” She responded. “And, as you so lovingly reminded me, manipulated and lied to!”

“Forgive me for not believing the sob story anymore.” He glared at her. The look that made him into the terror that made even fools cross to the other side of the street as he passed. “Why even stay with the Dregs after you escaped, if not to gather information?”

Y/N was too angry to be afraid.

“There is nowhere to go and nothing to get me there. I have the Dregs, and I have Anais. That’s all.” Y/N was seething and a bad taste in her mouth was forming. Kaz is supposed to be smart, how can he not see that I am on his side? And why the fuck did Jesper tell him about this?

“And who’s to say you don’t also have the Dime Lions in your pocket?” Kaz fought back, “What if you have the gang waiting at the Emerald Palace for you to drop off information about me each week?”

This is getting unbearable.

She scoffed, making sure to look Kaz in the eyes before she spoke, “I owe you, Kaz, and against all good reason I trust you. I want to help you take that bastard down more than anything in the world, but whatever you are trying to find out about Pekka from me is never going to come out. I have told you everything I know about him that could hurt him. I am not holding back for some sort of love that never existed. You think I am plotting against you? That I am in love with Pekka Rollins and I am helping him bring you down? That man does not care who you are. He is so much bigger than you it is unimaginable. I want to help you with whatever you are doing to take that man down but we will not succeed if we do it like this. Right now, if he wanted you dead, you simply would be.” She shrugged, shaking her head. “And furthermore, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t realize until your last breath. I could tear you open from the inside with one well placed glass of water.”

Kaz Brekker stood silent. He was not stupid enough to underestimate the girl in front of him. That is why this argument had started in the first place.

She moved toward the door, her voice cracking as she spoke again. “You are not owed my past, Kaz Brekker. Not when I cannot even figure out which parts were real.”

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x you #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader

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mightymorphingayagenda · 3 years

Note

cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!

then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here, x

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.”

Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.

“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.

Humourless.

And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.

“This is the part where you-“

“Shhh.”

A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.

In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.

Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.

She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.

The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.

It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.

Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.

It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.

Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.

Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.

Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.

“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”

Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.

“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.

“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.”

Cue phase two of the plan.

Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.

Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative.

“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.”

“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.”

Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.

He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.

“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.”

Eris said nothing.

“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued. “To do as you’re told.”

She gave him strict instructions. Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me. Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.

“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.”

She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.

Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.

And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle: a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.

She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.

Who’s your daddy, now?

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.

They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.

Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.

“Damn it,” she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway…

“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.

She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…

“Ugh,” she said again, louder. Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time.

Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?”

He meowed again.

Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.

“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.

Cassian’s jacket.

Uhg.

Now she was thinking about him again.

Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.

He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.

She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”.

He purred.

Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath. Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him. The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.

Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.

The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.

Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.

Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.

Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.

Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.

She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.

Not a man. A boy.

A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.

Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.

Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex. Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet. In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.

But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it.

Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.

She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her.

Her screaming.

Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body. What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.

It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.

And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.

It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles. And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.

Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.

And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even. In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.

A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.

Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.

Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues.

No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.

And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.

Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь”

Her mother’s last words.

Ten numbers.

Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door. All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.

Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.

Like a phone number.

No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough. Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.

A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.

“Здравствуйте.”

Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.

Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.

“Who is this?”

Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?

“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-”

The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.

A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.

What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.

Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.

Go down for murder.

Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body. How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.

Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly. Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.

Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers. The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.

“If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”

“You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?”

“Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.”

“Woof,” Nesta had said dryly.

“Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”

“You offering to adopt me?”

“I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.”

Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.

“But you ever want job, you call me.”

Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.

Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.

In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.

She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.

And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice. Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.

Until Feyre had moved to the city.

Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics, selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit. Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.

At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.

Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner.

Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.

Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.

Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.

The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.

Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.

Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring. A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings.

If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain.

It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done. Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.

She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.

That and the fact they were really very good.

Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.

In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly. Sinking deeper into the basin.

A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-

Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.

Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.

“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.

“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.

Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.

“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.”

“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.

“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.

“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”

If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully.

It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.

“You told me to give him a chance.”

“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?”

Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.

Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.

“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on-

“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?”

“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”

“Ever heard of the third date rule?”

“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?”

Feyre sighed.

“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-”

“So why did you send him my way?”

Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.

“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.”

Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked.

Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.

“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.”

It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.

“Well I’ve been smoking.”

“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.”

“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.”

“He only smokes them on special occasions.”

“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?”

“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh so you did hear me?”

“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”

She hung up.

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.

When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.

It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.

Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.

But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.

Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.

Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.

What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client. An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could. Because it was just easier.

Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.

Fuck.

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.

Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot; but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.

Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong.

She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.

A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living!

Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.

But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.

—

Cassian had ignored her calls.

All three.

Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.

Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator. Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.

Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy. She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.

Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.

Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.

It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.

“All work and no play?”

Cassian looked up from his desk.

“I can fix that,” she said.

He’d never looked more handsome.

Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.

He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.

It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.

“What are you doing here?”

Rude.

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.

“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.

“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.”

She turned to find him watching her.

His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.

Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.

“You’re still upset about that?”

“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.”

“Oh really?”

“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.

She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.”

“You don’t have a clue what I want.”

“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly.

The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.

It was all very conflicting.

“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.

“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again. “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.”

The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.

“You’re right,” she said.

Cassian blinked.

Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.”

The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.

Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike. “Your emergency, of course. Which was?”

“Nothing to do with you.”

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.

“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.

But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.

“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.

“Shit.”

His head fell into those large hands.

“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up. So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.

“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.

“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.”

“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.

Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.

Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.

“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?”

She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.”

“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.”

Nesta slid of the desk.

“Go on,” she instructed.

“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.”

Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.

“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.

“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.

“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.

“I can tell.”

She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”

Cassian swallowed.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.

“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?”

“If you say please.”

“Please don’t screw around with me.”

Nesta faltered.

Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.

“I’m really into you,” he admitted. “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.”

The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.

“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”

She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.

Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.

Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.

“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion. “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.”

She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.

“Nesta-“

“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.”

“Someone could come back-“

“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.”

His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.

“Nesta-”

She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders.

“I want you,” she purred again.

He might have tried to breath. And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.

“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.”

His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.

“You want me,” he breathed.

She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.

The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously.

“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.

“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.

“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.

His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.

“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.”

“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.

She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter.

“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…”

“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.

“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.”

“And I’m saying you could be in me.”

She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.

The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over. The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.

“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.”

“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.

“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout.

“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.

The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.

Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.

“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.

“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.”

“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.

Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.

“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.”

Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze, wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.

The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair.

“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.

And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.

“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.”

“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.

His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.

“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.

The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.

“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.

“More,” she demanded.

It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.

She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him. Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.

“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.

He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.

“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.

“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.

“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.

“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.”

“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”

His words sent her over the edge.

Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.

Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.

Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders. Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.

Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.

“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.

“Then get on your knees.”

Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.

“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.

“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again. “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”

His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.

Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.

Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.

“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.

“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.

He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.

In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.

Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.

She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.

“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.

Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.

The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.

Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.

Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.

“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.

His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.

His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.

“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.

“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.

“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.

Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.

“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.

She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.

Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.

He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.

She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.

“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.

He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.

Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.

“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.

Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.

“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.

“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.”

“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.

Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.

“Down boy,” she purred.

“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.

“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.

“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.

And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.

Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.

“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly.

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.”

Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.

“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.

She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.

“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.”

“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby”

Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.

“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.

She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.

Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth. Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.

“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.”

Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew. His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.

“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.

“Cassian,” she keened.

She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.

Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.

Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.

He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.

And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.

“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.

“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.

“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.

Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.

“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”

Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles. Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.

“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips.

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.

“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Cassian.”

“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there. “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Nesta smiled.

“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.”

Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.

She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.

“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.

His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.

It was so good.

Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him. And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl. Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.

His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.

“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,” She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.

“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit.

Nesta whined softly.

“Cassian…more…”

She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.

“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.”

She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.

“Oh!”

“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.”

His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.

“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.”

Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.

“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”

Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.

She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.

Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.

“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.

“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.”

She turned her gaze to him.

“Shame.”

He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.

Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.

“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.

Cassian grinned.

“You like Italian?”

Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.

“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.

Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”

“Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”

“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.”

Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.

“Lethal,” he whispered.

Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”

Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.

“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.

“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair.

Their second date had been incredible.

He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.

Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.

If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.

Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.

Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.

Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.

Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.

Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.

The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.

The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child.

Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.

Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.

Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.

But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.

Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.

As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.

Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.

Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.

“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”

Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.

She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?”

Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.

“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying. Which off course only made him like her more.

“What? Make you blush like a-”

“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them- like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?”

Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”

“Says the military man.”

“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.”

Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.

“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.

“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.

“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.

“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”

“That was so a line!”

“You’d know if I was giving you a line.”

“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.

“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive. “Because I’d love to take your top off.”

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.

“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”

“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.

“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.

“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.”

“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.

“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.

“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.

“What would you rather we talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.

Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.

Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute. It reminded you that you were alive.

The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.

So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.

The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore. Tame Impala playing from his pocket.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.

“Well you’re the only one getting it.”

She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.

“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.”

“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.

“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.

Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.

Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.

“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly, hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.

Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.

They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.”

“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.

“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.

She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.

“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.

“Yes please.”

Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower-

Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.

She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.

Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.

“What are you doing?”

“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did. Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.

“Congratulations.”

Cassian grinned.

“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”

“Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.

Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.

“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.

“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.

“Please do.”

She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.

“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.”

He pulled back abruptly.

But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?”

For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.

“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.”

“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-”

“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.

“But I-”

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.

He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.

“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.”

“More romantic than that sentence?”

“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.”

“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.”

“How have you already failed?”

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.”

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.

“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.”

“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.

They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf.

“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.

“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.

“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.

“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.

“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.

Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.

Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.

Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.

The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.

“Did you decline my call?”

“Yup.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.

“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.

“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”

“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.”

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.

“That why you’re calling?”

“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?”

“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m free.”

He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday.

“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.

“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-”

“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?”

Shit.

In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.

While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.

Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait. In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.

Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.

“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-”

“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.”

“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.

“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.

“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-”

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.

“Fine, your stropping-”

“Fuck off.”

Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.

“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.”

Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.

“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.

“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.”

“Hang on a minute-”

“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.

“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.

“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.”

“Alright, alright Don.”

“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.

“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.”

“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?”

Cassian sighed heavily.

“This a secure line?”

“Always”.

“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.”

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.

“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?”

“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”

“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.”

“Lucien?”

“Turns out the kid’s his.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.”

Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.

“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?”

Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.”

“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-”

“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.”

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.

Rhys went silent again.

“We could always just kill Eris.”

Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.

“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.

“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-”

“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.”

“Dick.”

“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.

“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-”

“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.”

“I’m fucking Persian!”

“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.

“A fanabla!”

“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.”

“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.”

“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-”

“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.”

“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?”

“If I said yes would you come back to us?”

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.”

“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.”

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.”

“Nesta’s no Feyre.”

Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

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