#sorrY I took a century to close this
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(Long post, sorry y'all)
A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.
In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.
She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.
Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.
After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:
DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.
Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!
So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.
Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.
At the end of August, the blanket was done!
I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)
She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it.
She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.
And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.
Five stars, absolutely worth it!
(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)
#loose ends#the loose ends project#joy knits#text#long post#knit#knitting#crochet#crocheting#craft#crafting#diy#crochetblr#yarnblr#yarn#knitblr
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Don't feed him he'll come back
simon riley x neighbour! reader
summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.
word count: 1.6k
part 2 here
There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment block. Though it feels more accurate to say he’s an occasional visitor. He comes and goes, like a lost spirit, unsure and aimlessly wandering. He slinks silently through the hallways like a wraith in the few instances when he is there.
The first time you see him is just a glimpse from the corner of your eye, a large hulking shadow standing at the door next to your apartment as you step out from yours.
Your feet stutter to a stop, the landlord had mentioned a neighbour but in the 3 months you’d lived there you’d never seen him. As if sensing your eyes lingering curiously on his form, deep brown eyes turn to meet yours. You can make out no other details of his face, the black material of his balaclava obscuring most of his features.
A century could have passed in those few seconds and you doubt you’d have noticed. Despite the weariness in his gaze, you found yourself pulled into the deep pools of those stunning eyes. Like a predator, his gaze never moves from your body, even as you offer him a friendly smile and wave before walking down the hall to continue your day.
You’d heard the uneasily whispered tales of the Ghost that haunted the apartment next to yours from some of the older tenants, though you’d never put much stock into the idle gossip. His burning gaze bores into your back and follows until the doors of the elevator close and you suppose you should feel intimidated.
It’s hard to conjure up any such feelings, even with the knowledge of the wariness he elicits in others. It’s hard to fear the hulking figure of the Ghost when he had such sad eyes.
He hid it well but you recognised the loneliness that lined his shoulders, the bone-deep exhaustion for life that managed to slip through tiny cracks in his self-imposed shield.
You suppose at that moment that even Ghosts can be haunted.
Maybe that’s why you found yourself knocking on his door later that evening with the tray of pasta bake. Initially, you’d made a large batch to have a few days left over for yourself. Yet just as you opened your fridge you’d hesitated, mind flashing to the man next door. Did he have any food for himself? There was likely nothing fresh, and he’d seemed too exhausted to pull himself to the grocery store during the brief encounter earlier.
Donning your Crocs, you’d marched over and knocked on his door before it properly registered that you were in pyjamas. The door swings open and your eyes trail up, the balaclava is gone, replaced with a simple black face mask letting you glimpse blond hair.
“Sorry if this is a bit intrusive, but I figured you probably didn’t have any food so…” you trailed off, pushing the tray towards him, expectantly waiting for him to grab it. It took a few seconds before he robotically took the tray, probably out of sheer confusion more than anything else. Stepping back before he could return the food you offered one last smile before fleeing to the sanctuary of your apartment.
Two days later you exit your apartment to an empty and cleaned tray, a small note with a simple ‘thank you’ placed within.
His name’s Simon, and apart from an introduction and the occasional dish left at his door, you don’t actually interact with him again until nearly a month later. And that had simply been a case of forced proximity a la broken elevator style.
Simon remained unflappable as ever, and it’s at that moment you decide to try and get a reaction that isn’t stoic silence.
“A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and …cola” Brown eyes turned to look at you curiously, brow raised to let you know he was listening. “Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.”
The joke doesn’t land, silence is the only reward for your comedy genius. “Ok, playing hardball. Alright then… Why did Susan fall off the swings?” Again, there is no answer, but a glance at his relaxed posture indicates he’s listening. “Because she had no arms.”
No laugh but you blaze ahead.
“Knock knock.” It takes a few seconds but with a playful glare, he responds quietly and with a tinge of amusement.
“Who’s there?” It’s not the first time you’ve heard his voice, but it still births a serious case of butterflies in your gut that takes more than a few seconds to fight down and regain your composure.
“Not Susan.” You can’t stop the peal of your giggles at that one, and while you swear you see the corner of his cheek curve upwards a little it’s not enough for you to be satisfied.
“I can’t believe it’s come to this, but I guess it’s time for the big guns. You better prepare yourself Riley 'cause I’m done holding back.” You pause for a few seconds to let the anticipation settle.
“What is… Whitney Houston’s favourite type of coordination?” You take a deep breath before positively belting out, “HAAAAAAAND-EEEEEYE.” Whether it’s the shock from the sudden musical number or the joke itself you’re finally rewarded with a faint chuckle.
“Aha!” you shout in triumph, a smug grin splitting your face, “I heard that laugh, you can do more scowl!”
The doors suddenly open with a ding and Simon pushes off the wall, but not before rolling his eyes playfully your way. Silence once again descends during the walk to your respective apartments, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Swiping your key card it’s just as you step through the threshold that you hear it,
“Why did the chicken go the seance? To get to the other side.” Whipping your head around, you are met with the sight of his door closing behind his large frame, but a win is a win and you celebrate mentally over the exchange.
The next time you leave a dish at his door it comes with a written joke. Sure enough, a few days later you received one back. The months start to blur, and your Ghost comes and goes, but the jokes remain.
Month three sees you snagging his number, a daily joke sent his way even when he can’t respond. Because as much as Simon Riley tried to hide his hurts from the world, he couldn’t hide them from you.
You’ve loved a soldier before in your brother, can see the signs and smell the gunsmoke and blood from miles away. Apart from his team, it becomes obvious the man has nobody left, and believes he doesn’t deserve to be cared for.
You’re not foolish enough to think you can be that for him, but you are understanding enough to give him the choice. So you continue to send him jokes, puns, pictures of your cat Bingbong and anything that you think will get him to at least smile.
Three months turns to six turns to eight. He’s not physically there most of the time but you take every opportunity he is to coax him from the loneliness of his apartment like a stray kitten.
Once-a-week dinners at least. Freely sharing your life’s story without expecting anything in return. One evening you’d plopped your chunky tuxedo cat down on his lap and watched him freeze, hands hovering with wide eyes as he considered the ball of fur making biscuits on his thigh.
It was cute. He was cute. Even when he whipped around to glare when you took a photo, the corners of his lips downturned and tugged at the scars on his face. His bare face wasn’t necessarily a new sight but it causes your breath to hitch nonetheless.
Something you think he notices given the way his lips quirked up suddenly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes you huffed before plonking yourself down next to him on the couch. Bingbong doesn’t scramble onto your lap like you expect, instead deciding to remain on his new favourite human, traitor.
You pay very little attention to the movie even though you’d chosen it, too acutely focused on the large bulk of Simon next to you. Your shoulder rests against his arm, his body heat emanating from beneath his hoodie and absorbing into your skin.
You’ve never been one to fall asleep during movies, but there’s something about Simon’s presence that soothes you, lulling you into a restful slumber as you slump against his chest. Bingbong meows his discontent as you accidentally squish him, jumping away with a huff, none of which you notice.
It’s the sun shining straight onto your face through the open blinds that wakes you the next morning, a groan of confusion leaving your lips as you stretch and look around to orient yourself.
Sitting up, the blanket that you just now realised covered your form fell down to your waist. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes your phone falls to the floor when you stand, the screen flicking on to display the time.
It’s not until you sleepily stumble into your bedroom, plugging your nearly dead phone in and face-planting onto your pillow that you realise Simon must have tucked you in. The smile that covers your face is so wide it is painful and you fall asleep once more, dreaming of the phantom sensation of his arms wrapped around you.
#x reader#cod mw x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost cod
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I'm your only situationship.
A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.
18+ MDNI
TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.
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Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar.
Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink.
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”
“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”
“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”
“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?”
He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.
“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”
His phone vibrated a minute later.
“I can’t today, Si.”
“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”
As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.
“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”
Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.
“Hiya, Si!”
“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”
“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison.
“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”
“No.” And hangs up.
The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—
“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”
One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’
You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice.
The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder.
“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”
You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”
Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—
“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”
“Where is he?”, he snarls.
“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”
You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,
“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”
“No, pet.”
“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”
“Pet.”
You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.
He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out,
“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,” grind—and you whimper in his ear, “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “
He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”
With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked.
Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed.
You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.
Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand, goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—
Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.”
You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him. With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank.
“You have a condom?”
You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”
“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”
You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it.
“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.”
You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise.
He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.”
He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock.
Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back, stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.
That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length.
“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.
“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”
He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it.
He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.
“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.”
You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.
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#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#cod smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost x you#ghost cod#cod mwii#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#call of duty smut
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Of Oblivious Minds (4)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst
a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
~~
You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme.
You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless.
Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days.
But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even?
Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home.
The home that wasn’t Velaris.
You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris.
Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep.
He was everywhere, everything.
But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance.
With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading.
Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.
It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel.
You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed.
You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys.
It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long.
The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.”
The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips.
Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest.
“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?”
The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.”
That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure.
And of course he had sent Azriel of all people.
“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—”
“Why is half of your vanity gone?”
You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room.
“What?” It was all you could think to formulate.
But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.”
“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”
But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort.
“Azriel—”
“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.”
“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful.
You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing.
Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.
But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity.
“Is something the matter?” you tried.
Azriel’s hand twitched.
That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again.
“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched.
You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?”
He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from.
“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.”
“I was going to—”
“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.”
The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move.
“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.”
“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word.
You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”
A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility.
Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away.
Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him.
Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet.
“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.”
Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?”
“With your mate.”
And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance.
“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.”
Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling.
Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else?
The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours.
He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly.
“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.”
Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing.
“My oblivious girl. Please.”
“Azriel—”
When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs.
As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—
Mate. Azriel was your mate.
You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed.
“You’re my—Azriel, you—”
There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant.
“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.
“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat.
“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head.
“You love Elain.”
“I do not love Elain.”
“And Mor?”
“I do not love Mor, either.”
You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.
Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else.
But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others.
Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.”
“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused.
“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded.
“How long have you…”
Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.”
Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—”
Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead.
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.”
This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.”
There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by.
“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.”
When you didn’t answer, he kept talking.
“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”
“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”
A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.”
“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.”
“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck.
“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.”
You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.”
“I love you,” he said.
And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.
When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes.
“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.”
You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.
“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.”
Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin.
“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel spymaster#acotar fanfiction
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Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper
word count. 1.6k
୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.
୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!
Your praise.
Zhongli has rarely ever wanted.
When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience.
If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.
For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.
Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas.
His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.
Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.
Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.
It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.
When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.
Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers.
For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.
Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant.
He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.
"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.
You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so.
He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.
“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”
You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.
He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.
All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.
A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears.
“You have only ever done good by me.”
Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light.
“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks.
“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.
He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.
“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”
Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship.
“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely.
Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat.
“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”
He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless.
You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering.
“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”
An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth.
The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him.
Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you.
Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.
“Am I? Your favorite?”
His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant.
He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.
“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”
Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation.
#[🦇] — my writing#genshin impact#yandere genshin#genshin x reader#sagau#cult au#sagau zhongli#yandere zhongli#cult au zhongli#yandere zhongli x reader#yandere male#yandere male x reader#male yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere#self aware genshin au#self aware genshin#gender neutral reader
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The Harkonnen's Claim
Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader
Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.
Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.
Words: 3300
Feyd Masterlist Part 1
You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault.
“Get out!” he yells.
More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap.
“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”
You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.
“They were only here to help,” you mutter.
Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.
“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps.
But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear.
“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”
Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.
“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours.
Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”
“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”
You sigh. “Feyd–”
“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.”
—
They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is.
With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value.
“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”
But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.
“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”
Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end.
“Paul, listen to m–”
“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”
You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you.
You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare.
The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister?
“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone.
—
It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun.
You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother.
“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”
“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”
You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.
“Atreides!”
Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.
As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.
“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”
“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”
She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.
Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses.
“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps.
He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting.
“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”
Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist.
“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”
Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.
Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.
“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”
Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”
The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches.
Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”
Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.
“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.
“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”
“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”
Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.
However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.
“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”
The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.
“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”
Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough.
With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”
You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours.
“You're not hurt?” he asks.
“I'm fine,” you promise him.
“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”
Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.
“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”
Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”
“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours.
—
He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”
Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames.
Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.
But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.
He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing.
Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours.
“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”
With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”
“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”
You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”
“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.”
Your brows raise. “Your wife?”
Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”
It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.
His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”
Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach.
“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”
You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”
Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”
A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well
@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha#dune part 2#austin butler#feyd x reader#dune#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune movie
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Ok so, maybe you knew this already or maybe not, but... In the game, if you hover over Astarion's original outfit it says that it looks rather old and mended over several times. The running theory is that he's been reparing his own clothes (explains the cheeky embroidery in his underwear) , since we damn well know that Cazador would not give two hoots about it, and that poor baby has been running around in a 200 year old shirt and probably doesn't have much clothes with him. I just want something fluffy... maybe the reader always let's him have first dibs on whatever they find or even gets him new clothes. I just imagine him finding a brand new shirt on his tent that is soft and comfortable and I just want to weep in a corner 🥺
Can you help a sister out?
Here you are <33 (also, I'm so sorry this took so long lol) WC: 1.3k Also CW for potential spoilers
---
Astarion is slow to wake this morning, fully intending to lay with you in his tent as long as you’ll allow. Rolling over with his eyes still closed, he reaches to hook his arm around your waist only to grasp at nothing but air.
He’s certainly awake now.
It’s unusual to find you missing given he’s usually the first to wake between the two of you; two hundred years of living in The Underdark and only ever surfacing at night having apparently made him a little sensitive to light.
Sitting up and shifting onto his knees, he reaches to pull the tent flap back and peer out at the campfire. A small gust of the cool morning air sweeps over his bare torso, raising goosebumps over the skin of his arms despite the fact that he’s not really bothered by the cold. That little spike of anxiety dulls when he finds you haven’t strayed far; standing maybe fifteen feet away in conversation with Karlach.
As if you can sense him, you glance over and light up when you spot him peeking out of the tent, excusing yourself from the tiefling. He expects you to come straight over, but instead, you turn to grab a basket he hadn’t seen first.
He shuffles back to let you come inside, flushing a bit when you brush a few rogue curls from his face and bend to peck his hairline, “Good morning, handsome.”
“I- Good morning.” Is all he manages, still tired and a little stunned. Shifting off of his knees to sit cross-legged, he peers into the basket as you set it down in front of him and cocks a brow, “What’s this?”
“Clothes.”
“Well yes, I can see that, darling.” He sasses and you chortle, “But why have you brought me a basket of clothes?”
“I found it the last time we left camp.” He remembers that. You’d gone out with Karlach, Gale and Lae’zel and came back bloodied and bruised. He’d been so focused on getting you patched up that he hadn’t even thought of asking about what you might have found.
You clear your throat and glance away, smiling sheepishly, “I picked out some things I thought you’d like, but then I thought you might prefer to have a look through yourself, so,” You shrug and jerk your nose at the basket, “I brought you all of it.”
His heart would be stuttering in his chest if it could. Reaching into the pile, he thumbs over a few of the garments, feeling the different fabrics and looking over all the different colours. It’s been centuries since he’s had a choice in what to wear. Sure, he’s picked up some things throughout your travels but never so much all at once. It’s a little overwhelming, having all this to pick through after so long.
Taking hold of the basket, he pushes it closer to you, “Show me what you picked out first.”
“Oh,” Your heart rate spikes, and he smiles as you stutter out, “Are- Are you sure? I’m not sure you’d actually like what I picked out. That’s one of the reasons I brought you the whole basket.”
He scoffs and waves off the thought, “Nonsense. You could hand me the most distasteful outfit in all of Faerûn and I’d at least try it on for you.”
“Really?”
“Of course I would.” He realises the implications of what he’s just said and tries to play off the sentiment with a puckish grin, gesturing towards himself, “It’s hard to not look good in something when you’re this beautiful.”
You laugh, eyes squinting shut with the force of your smile. “Yes, you truly are dashing, my love.”
“Stating the obvious, but I can’t complain,” You roll your eyes at him as he taps the sides of the basket, “Now, are you going to show me what you picked out? Or are you just going to sit here sing my praises? Personally, I’d be fine either way.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it,” Reaching into the clothes, your laughter tapers off as you glance back up at him timidly one last time, “But if you don’t like something, tell me, okay?”
He lays his palm flat against his sternum, all dramatics as he grins, “Cross my heart and hope to,” He pauses, before chuckling, “Well, die again, I suppose.”
He laughs when you shoot him a glare with no real malice behind it and tut disapprovingly.
He watches in quiet curiosity as you pull out a few items, explaining why you thought he’d like them as you go. Your reasons range from colours and patterns to embroidery and necklines, all of which are shockingly on par with his tastes. It appears you know him better than he thought you did.
“That’s about it, I think.” Your brows furrow in a way that is entirely too cute – especially for someone he’s watched eviscerate hoards of goblins – before you perk up with an excited gasp, “Oh! I almost forgot!”
Turning to look this way and that, you make a little sound of satisfaction when your gaze lands on your pack. Your shirt rides up a bit when you twist onto your knees to reach for it, and he stifles the urge to run his hand over the sliver skin it exposes. You rummage through a few pockets before finding what you’re looking for, returning to kneel in front of him with something hidden in your hand.
“Close your eyes.” You urge, and he does as you’ve asked.
“Ooh, saved the best for last, have you?” He grins, holding out his hands before you even ask.
You chuckle, sounding a little nervous, “Hopefully.”
He hears the tinkling of metal and nearly jumps when your hand makes contact with his, one cradling the backs of his while the other presses something small and rough into his palm.
“Open.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you say it.
On your command, he opens his eyes to find you’ve given him a necklace. The pendent is a little piece of a raw, orange crystal encircled by dainty gold rods that are bent to resemble branches.
“This is... beautiful.” He breathes, turning it over in his hand to admire the jagged edges, “What kind of crystal is it?”
“Sunstone.” He looks up at you then, finding a shy smile hung on your lips, “I know it’s a little on the nose but...,” You worry your bottom lip for a moment, clearly a little hesitant to continue, “I know you’re worried about... what’ll happen once the tadpoles are removed. So, I wanted to get you something just in case. It’s not the same thing, obviously, but I thought this way you can still figuratively have a little piece of the sun if,” Cutting yourself off, you glance away for a moment, “Well, if things don’t go the way we hope.”
He stares at you for a long moment, entirely unsure of what to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything he could say to convey just how much the gesture means to him.
Setting the necklace on his pillow, he draws you into his arms and weaves them tight around your waist. He pulls you to him so suddenly that your knees bump his shins, but you don’t seem to mind as you hook your arms around the back of his neck. His eyes burn as he murmurs against the side of your neck, “I love you.”
You card your fingers through his hair and he shudders, leaning further into you as you dot a few sweet kisses along the length of his shoulder.
“I love you too.” Your words are muddled as they’re mumbled into his skin, “More than you know.”
Maybe he didn’t before, but he thinks he has an idea now. You love him enough that you gave him his own little chunk of the sun. Even if things don’t pan out they way he hopes they will, he doesn’t think he’ll need the necklace – however pretty it may be.
He’s already got his bit of the sun wrapped up tight in his arms.
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x mc#astarion bg3#astarion x you#astarion x tav#astarion x gn reader#bg3
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Title: oh hey a mate(s)
Chapter: one
Fandom: obey me
Pairing: demon brother's x male reader
Warnings: suggestive themes, readers got truama, internalized gender hatred, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of being a breeding tool, self hate, reader doesn't really understand sex, sexual themes, omegaverse, male reader, mentions of mpreg
🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️
"HE STOLE THEM FROM ME!" (sisters name) Screeched out in a rage as she threw things around "they were supposed to be MY mates! And he stole them! That whore stole them!" She was hyperventilating at this point as her body shook, feeling robbed of her alphas.
Of her life, the thing she wanted more than anything.
"I know sweety but maybe we can set you up wit--"" I don't want someone else! I want the princes!"
And she was going to get them.
She swore it.
'fuck you (name)'
Holy shit this place was big.
God he felt under dressed, especially beside these alphas who were dressed so fancy and perfect.
The floors were marble and two grand staircases winded on each side and paintings that had to be centuries old hung on the walls "we will have one commissioned for you soon enough... Maybe one with us all" Belphegor yawned as he wandered the halls "for now, let's get you settled in" he said and looked to a nervous looking Leviathan who nodded.
(Name) Was nervous as he walked beside the demon who seemed to want to be anywhere but here "I-im sorry if I wasn't who you were expecting... I'll try and not step on your toes" (name) whispered, anxiously fiddling with his fingers and looked down "i-i dont-- fuck... I'm really nervous and anxious and just I don't really talk to omegas often so I'm just--" the demon seemed panicked and (name) felt relief flood through his veins as he pumped out calming pharamones for the Alpha "hey... I get it, if it's any consolation... I'm not great with people either-- hell I think this is the first time I ever left my families property!" He laughed a bit but Leviathan was shocked at his words "you never been into the capital or even your home town?" He asked genuinely and (name) shook his head "nah, my parents didn't trust me going out there-- you know how troublesome an Omega can be"
What the fuck? That's all Leviathan could think as he looked at the Omega worried "I- you're not troublesome?" He whispered and (name) just smiled "I try not to be" (name) giggled a bit as they continued to (name)s apartment, the Omega expecting a quaint bedroom but...
"I think we went to the wrong room.... This is awfully big" (name) said softly to the envy demon who looked confused "you like your apartment?" Asmodeus popped out from nowhere and pulled (name) close with a flirty grin "we had the butlers being your things in, don't worry we didn't let them unpack... Pharamones and all that ~" he pulled (name) into the apartment and (name) felt overwhelmed by all this "there's a nesting room there~ if you need help don't hesitate to ask"
"A-are you sure?"
"Sure of what?"
"That this is for me?"
"You are to be our mate, I personally wanted you with me but Luci wanted you to have your own space... Something about acclimating" his words teasing and (name) chuckled but cut short when his stomach growled and the two demons looked curious "oh yeah! Humans need to eat for survival!"
(Name) Felt embarrassed as he silently cursed his stomach for exposing him like this as the demons looked at one another in a silent conversation.
They were definitely having a sibling meeting later.
(Name) Dissociated during the rest of the evening, eventually ending back in the rooms he was given, the size of his old house if not a bit bigger...
Everything was pristine as he took out his belongings, his prized possessions and small hobbies to occupy him.
A few heirlooms and books and his childhood stuffed toy 'this will go in my nest' he thought as he looked at the nesting room doors, two ornate doors in a rose gold shade, the apartment all light colors unlike the rest of the palace.
It was a strange contrast, almost like they didn't know what to expect so they just made what they thought humans liked. It was funny really, demons trying to understand what humans wanted or needed as he was doing the same, wondering what these demons wanted or liked.
Getting up he went to the nesting room and was overwhelmed by the nesting supplies he was given, piles and piles of blankets and pillows and soft things, his purring could probably be heard from outside the apartment as he snuggled into them, a sense of safety he wasn't quite used to washing over him.
He was excited to make a large nest, spending half the night making it perfect for him to rest in and just not think about the fact he was to be mated on his next heat to seven strangers that were also fucking royalty! Well there goes not thinking about it because here he was!
Also his sister! Holy shit she was mad! And like at his wedding she will be there! Fuuck!
(Name) Was just sitting there head in hands as he processed the fact that within 24 hours he was now engaged and now in the public eye!
(Name) Curled up closer into his blankets and let out a shutter of a sigh, he wondered if he would be able to do the things he enjoyed before... Would he be allowed to garden? Would he have to dress more Omegan? Or would he be able to wear clothes that were comfortable?!
He needed to walk, movement to process this.
Getting up he walked out of his apartment and into the hall, dark and grand, ceilings at least 15 feet tall and paintings lined, some he recognized as the siblings and some unfamiliar as he walked around curiously.
Somehow he made it to the kitchen "I hope they don't mind..." (Name) Whispered as he sliced an apple, careful and gentle as his stomach growled a bit.
"Can I have some?" A voice startled him out of his thoughts causing him to slice his finger "shit!" The voice said and (name) looked to see Beelzebub who in turn looked a bit startled as he took (name)s bleeding finger and put it in his mouth, the Omega looking thoroughly concerned as Beelzebub sucked on the blood "I feel like this is incredibly unsanitary" (name) whispered worried and beez released his finger "demons saliva can heal amongst other things, depends on the demon really"
"Oh " (name) said dumbly as he looked at his wet but healed finger "what else does your saliva do?" He asked curiously and Beelzebub smiled at the others cute and curious expression "ah, well besides healing my saliva can work as an aphrodisiac if ingested!" (Name) Looked concerned and Beelzebub laughed "don't worry, it only works if I were to like make out with you or eat your ass!"
And now (name) was flustered as the gluttony demon kept laughing at his embarrassment "so why are you up so late?" Beelzebub asked after calming down and sealing some apple slices and cutting up some more, handing (name) an orange "just... It's stupid"
"Oh please!" Beelzebub pushed and (name) sighed "I'm just... I'm having trouble processing this stuff, it's stressful and like-- I never left my property let alone this! My sister wanted to be with you guys and she's already insufferable, this is just worse! I'm just paranoid that you guys are going to realize that like this was a mistake and reject me and like the fear of being an Omega in general! Will I be able to do the things i enjoyed before? Will I be a breeding tool?!" He was hyperventilating now as Beelzebub panicked "hey hey, calm down! It will be alright and-- no we aren't making you a breeding Omega.... shhh" beez tried to calm him as footsteps quickly made their way to the kitchen.
"What is happening?" Lucifer and the others seemed startled as the smell of distress was heavy in the kitchen "he's worried we will strip him of his rights and make him carry our young" Beelzebub explained as he lifted (name) into his arms and set him on the counter "were demons but we aren't monsters" Satan said disgusted and Asmodeus smiled "we would never do that unless it's what you're into~" he teased the Omega as they crowded him "I know it's an incredibly hard adjustment but know we mean well, it's literally impossible for us to not fall for each other" it's true soulmates would eventually fall for one another due to the bond "and we are sharing one mate so that means you have seven people to love you" mammon said in a rare moment of genuine care "what do you mean?"
"Oh yeah, he knows basically nothing about secondary gender or soulmates" Levi said softly and the demons looked horrified "well I know what we are doing tomorrow" Satan said simply and (name) looked ashamed and couldn't meet their eyes, feeling stupid for his lack of knowledge.
"Well his town is backwards" Belphegor yawned and wandered off back to bed now that the problem was solved "goodnight...."
(Name) Was led back to his room by Beelzebub and Asmodeus and looked confused when they put sweaters in his arms "the smell of your alphas will calm you~" Asmodeus said simply and the two wished him a good night.
And for once?
He sleped peacefully.
(Name) Spent the next few days learning about soulmates and secondary genders, the two interlocking "when your heat comes, it will be dangerous for you to not mate with your soulmate" (name) read the book in his off time, the book explaining how the bonding is key to not cause rejection symptoms or a drop, he definitely didn't want that. Fuck how does he have sex? Fuck.
Time to go figure that out, he really felt behind on this shit.
(Name) Made home in the library as he looked for any books that would aid him "Hmm? Looking for sex books ~ didn't know our omega was like that" Asmodeus seemed to love just appearing out of thin air and scaring (name) who dropped the book "i-i it's not like that!"
"Hmmm? And what is it about? Oh you're so cute when your flustered!" He cooed and (name) huffed "I am trying to figure out like, how sex works and stuff... I wasn't exactly taught... Just put on suppressants so my family could avoid it" he just constantly felt ashamed with them, their faces of realization and pity as (name) tried not to cry "well, if you like I could teach you~ don't worry I won't touch you where you don't like" Asmodeus could get used to his omega so flustered as he got closer, his alpha giddy at his mate being untouched "the first thing one should know is their body after all~"
"I- uh... I'm not sure..."
Asmodeus let his lips barely touch (name)s as he caged him against a bookshelf and smiled, his tail flickering and (name) seemed a bit startled by it All as the demon gently kissed him "that was... Uh.." "your first kiss?"
"Yeah..."
"Did you like it?"
(Name) Could only nod as the lust avatar giggled sweetly at his adorable Omega "oh, you're going to fit in nicely here~!" He doted on (name) a bit "don't worry darling, we won't do anything your not ready for but if you're willing... To experiment a bit, I'm always a summon away" and with that he was gone, (name) left with nothing more than the smell of his pharamones, sweet Jasmine and warm vanilla.
It wasn't till after lunch that Lucifer brought him to the gardens, a small greenhouse and a garden plot stood "we had it cleaned up, you said you liked gardening" he said simply and looked down at (name) who looked like he was given the potion of youth "really? Thank you so much..." (Name) Was releasing the happiest pharamones and Lucifer kept composure but god damn did that boost his ego as an alpha, making his mate happy.
"Just clean yourself off after you finish" Lucifer said calmly and (name) beamed at this "of course!"
(Name) Puttered in the greenhouse and began planting things, thankfully it was early in the season so he had time to make a nursery for plants "oh, sor--" (name) immediately shut up as he saw Belphegor sleeping in a sun beam, cozy and calm. Looking around (name) found his cape that Satan had made for him and covered the demon with it "it's still chilly" he whispered and went back to work, unaware the demon was awake and watching intently at the Omega who was carrying heavy pots and sacks of soil around.
(Name) Kept quiet for the Alpha, he must be so exhausted to fall asleep in a greenhouse of places so it would be best to let him rest! Eventually (name) moved outside, it was less chilly but a slight chill but movement will keep him warm! Using twine he found in the greenhouse he sectioned spots of the garden plots for various things like carrots and garlic amongst others, they were still in the nursery but it's good to get things ready now, he reasoned with himself.
"Your Highness! It's quite cold!" A servant panicked as she saw (name) in nothing more than a shirt and pants and apron, dirt on his cheek "don't worry! I'm alright!" He reasoned but she was not having it and removed her cape "it's not good for an Omega to be cold like this!"
Before she could drape the cape on (name), he felt fur on his shoulders as Mammon smiled with a warning "don't worry, he's warm" his eyes telling the servant to leave and (name) looked confused "oh hello!" (Name) Smiled at the demon who felt annoyed at how sweet the other was, his bond making his heart beat fast "Luci wanted me to take you into town so get ready" he grumbled and (name) nodded, a simple smile on his face as he wandered to the palace "where's your cape anyways?! It's freezing for mortals!" He chastised and (name) chirped "Belphegor was sleeping and I wanted him to be cozy!" (Name) Couldn't explain why he felt so calm and comfortable with the princes but they made him feel safe, even if they were sometimes like angry chihuahuas.
"You're weird" mammon said with no bite as they walked to (name)s area.
The tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly to put together some clothes for (name) and his new class, the maids commenting about how the seamstress always kept embroidered sleeves on hand as the brothers always tore clothes during training--- well save for Asmodeus and Belphegor who couldn't be fucked to do stuff like that.
(Name) Felt regal, a beautiful vest made of silk and embroidered with birds and roses and a linen powers shirt and nice pants and expensive boots "you look wonderful your Highness!" A maid commented, (name) growing fond of his personal maids who cheered him in, them all being mated and married betas.
(Name) Was curious as he looked around the city, never really interacting with so many people who looked at he two in awe, the guards keeping a fair distance as he looked at stalls "you seriously never been in a city?" Mammon said incredulously and (name) looked confused "no? It's not right for an Omega to be by himself around alphas, I would be a temptation" reiterating his parents words and Mammon was horrified at the omegas genuine belief that HE was the problem and not alphas who couldn't keep their hands to themselves "well we are unpacking that later"
He didn't even want to get into the family thing, remembering the chat he had with his brothers when (name) had his meltdown and the acceptance that their Omega came from a very problematic living situation but he seemed to be acclimating well.
Or at least he hoped.
Mammon was confused as (name) handed him a stuffed bunny "what is this?" He raised an eyebrow from behind his circular sunglasses "well we didn't get to actually court because of being soulmates so I got you all courting gifts" he chirped out innocently, remembering what he was taught by Lucifer and deciding to put it in action though he seemed to have gotten it backwards as it was supposed to be the Alpha who gave the courting gifts.
"I- uh... Thank you?"
(Name) Seemed pleased as they continued their walk through the cities market, a giant hub of the equally giant city as Mammon stared at the bunny that was made of fabric the same color as his eyes, a small detail that made him flustered.
He noticed (name) budgeting, a soft smile on his face "you know we have basically endless money, right?" Well mammon didn't, he was cut off and put on a strict budget but (name)? He still had his money privileges "that's your money, this is so much!" To (name) it was a lot of money as he did the budgeting of the house back with his family, this was ten times of what they made in a year! "I am fine with this"
Hell, how did they get the exact opposite of them?!
A nervous Omega who was innocent and naive and sweet as honey!
"Oh you are absolutely precious!" Asmodeus cooed at the stuffed rabbit that fit in his hands "I hadn't even thought of courting!" He said with exaggerated sadness and (name) watched the others alphas reactions, though it wasn't the fanciest courting gift, it was a genuinely thoughtful one.
"He was worried about spending the money, he literally budgeted it" mammon groaned and Lucifer snorted "you could do well to learn that" he said as (name) seemed reminded and handed him back the coin bag, the Omega barely dented it "I got a few things for my hobbies but I brought back the change!" He said sweety and Lucifer had cute aggression at that moment as (name) looked at him with so much pride "you know you could have spent all of this right?" He said a little slow, (name) nodding "but that would be rude, I'm spending all your money without care... I don't like that"
Seriously, how did they manage to be fated with the sweetest Omega?!
"He didn't even but himself actual things for himself! He bought things to make us things!" Mammon groaned out but they all knew he equally swooned at the fact their Omega was so sweet.
But also he didn't buy himself anything, Asmodeus has had to bring him to eat and Beelzebub would put food on it.
"Rural Omega culture is different than cities, they're treated more as a commodity" a maid explained to Asmodeus one night as she helped him get ready for bed, she herself being an alpha from the boonies "an inconvenience would be a better word though, everything your saying shows he was treated like how my love got treated, need to make them feel genuinely valued" she went to explain how omegas need regular scenting and assurance to keep mentally regulated and (name) probably never had that.
Which would explain why he seemed like he was constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop despite growing used to them.
Like it was all going to go away.
His dreams were often that, every night he dreamt of waking up in his old room as his sister lived the life she wanted and he was stuck in that musty bedroom where he would rot.
"Your dreams are noisy" Belphegor mumbled as he crawled into bed with (name) and held him close, pumping out pharamones as he thought smugly about the fact he's technically been in bed with (name) before the others. (Name) Snuggled in his chest and physically relaxed, chirping in his sleep as he clung helplessly to him and he was hooked.
He wanted this more and was already annoyed he would have to share with his brothers.
(Name) Let his mates to be plan the wedding though he and Beelzebub thought of food together, the demon horrified at how little foods he got to experience and made him try everything for the wedding and smiled at his happy face with good food "these are mirangue cookies! Like eating plaster that loves you!" He exolained and (name) basically melted at now delicious it was.
Beelzebub was more than happy to share food with him, his alpha wanting the Omega to be well fed to carry his pups after all.
They were all anxious for mating, their bond slowly making them VERY intense about (name) who after weeks, finally sat close to Satan as he read with him though (name) did struggle a bit "omegas being taught to read is laughable, I taught myself as much as I could" he explained and that's when Satan decided he would read for (name), the two spending an hour or two in the library reading together like how Lucifer spent his time teaching (name) new things when he wasn't busy or just dragging him along with things.
(Name) Was always well behaved, he thought of (name)s family and how they were... How did this come out of THAT.
But now, (name) had one worry...
Would he invite his family to his wedding?
#obey me x male reader#obey me x reader#demon brother's x reader#demon brothers#male reader#x male reader#omegaverse#omega male reader#obey me omegaverse#anime x male reader#anime x reader#Asmodeus x male reader#Lucifer x male reader#Beelzebub x male reader#Belphegor x male reader#Leviathan x male reader#mammon x male reader#satan x male reader#reader insert
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Sri Lankan Fairies and Senegalese Goddesses: Mixing Mythology as a Mixed Creator
[Note: this archive ask was submitted before the Masterpost rules took effect in 2023. The ask has been abridged for clarity.]
@reydjarinkenobi asked:
Hi, I’m half Sri Lankan/half white Australian, second gen immigrant though my mum moved when she was a kid.
My main character for my story is a mixed demigod/fae. [...] Her bio mum is essentially a Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy and her other bio mum (goddess) is a goddess of my own creation, Nettamaar, who’s name is derived from [...] Wolof words [...]. The community of mages that she presided over is from the South Eastern region of Senegal [...] In the beginning years of European imperialism, the goddess basically protected them through magic and by blessing a set of triplets effectively cutting them off from the outside world for a few centuries [...]
I was unable to find a goddess that fit the story I wanted to tell [...] and also couldn’t find much information on the internet for local gods, which is why I have created my own. I know that the gods in Hinduism do sort of fit into [the story] but my Sri Lankan side is Christian and I don’t feel comfortable representing the Hindu gods in the way that I will be this goddess [...]. I wanted to know if any aspect of the community’s history is problematic as well as if I should continue looking further to try and find an African deity that matched my narrative needs?
I was also worried that having a mixed main character who’s specifically half black would present problems as I can’t truly understand the black experience. I plan on getting mixed and black sensitivity readers once I finish my drafts [...] I do take jabs at white supremacy and imperialism and I I am planning to reflect my feelings of growing up not immersed in your own culture and feeling overwhelmed with what you don’t know when you get older [...].
I’m sorry for the long ask but I don’t really have anyone to talk to about writing and I’m quite worried about my story coming across as insensitive or problematic because of cultural history that I am not educated enough in.
Reconciliation Requires Research
First off: how close is this world’s history to our own, omitting the magic? If you’re aiming for it to be essentially parallel, I would keep in mind that Senegal was affected by the spread of Islam before the Europeans arrived, and most people there are Muslim, albeit with Wolof and other influences.
About your Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy character: I’ll point you to this previous post on Magical humanoid worldbuilding, Desi fairies as well as this previous post on Characterization for South Asian-coded characters for some of our commentary on South Asian ‘fae’. Since she is also Scottish, the concept can tie back to the Celtic ideas of the fae.
However, reconciliation of both sides of her background can be tricky. Do you plan on including specific Sri Lankan mythos into her heritage? I would tread carefully with it, if you plan to do so. Not every polytheistic culture will have similar analogues that you can pull from.
To put it plainly, if you’re worried about not knowing enough of the cultural histories, seek out people who have those backgrounds and talk to them about it. Do your research thoroughly: find resources that come from those cultures and read carefully about the mythos that you plan to incorporate. Look for specificity when you reach out to sensitivity readers and try to find sources that go beyond a surface-level analysis of the cultures you’re looking to portray.
~ Abhaya
I see you are drawing on Gaelic lore for your storytelling. Abhaya has given you good links to discussions we’ve had at WWC and the potential blindspots in assuming, relative to monotheistic religions like Christianity, that all polytheistic and pluralistic lore is similar to Gaelic folklore. Fae are one kind of folklore. There are many others. Consider:
Is it compatible? Are Fae compatible with the Senegalese folklore you are utilizing?
Is it specific? What ethnic/religious groups in Senegal are you drawing from?
Is it suitable? Are there more appropriate cultures for the type of lore you wish to create?
Remember, Senegalese is a national designation, not an ethnic one, and certainly not a designation that will inform you with respect to religious traditions. But more importantly:
...Research Requires Reconciliation
My question is why choose Senegal when your own heritage offers so much room for exploration? This isn’t to say I believe a half Sri-Lankan person shouldn’t utilize Senegalese folklore in their coding or vice-versa, but, to put it bluntly, you don’t seem very comfortable with your heritage. Religions can change, but not everything cultural changes when this happens. I think your relationship with your mother’s side’s culture offers valuable insight to how to tackle the above, and I’ll explain why.
I myself am biracial and bicultural, and I had to know a lot about my own background before I was confident using other cultures in my writing. I had to understand my own identity—what elements from my background I wished to prioritize and what I wished to jettison. Only then was I able to think about how my work would resonate with a person from the relevant background, what to be mindful of, and where my blindspots would interfere.
I echo Abhaya’s recommendation for much, much more research, but also include my own personal recommendation for greater self-exploration. I strongly believe the better one knows oneself, the better they can create. It is presumptuous for me to assume, but your ask’s phrasing, the outlined plot and its themes all convey a lack of confidence in your mixed identity that may interfere with confidence when researching and world-building. I’m not saying give up on this story, but if anxiety on respectful representation is a large barrier for you at the moment, this story may be a good candidate for a personal project to keep to yourself until you feel more ready.
(See similar asker concerns here: Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction, here: Representing Biracial Black South American Experiences and here: Am I fetishizing my Japanese character?)
- Marika.
Start More Freely with Easy Mode
Question: Why not make a complete high-fantasy universe, with no need of establishing clear real-world parallels in the text? It gives you plenty of leg room to incorporate pluralistic, multicultural mythos + folklore into the same story without excessive sweating about historically accurate worldbuilding.
It's not a *foolproof* method; even subtly coded multicultural fantasy societies like Avatar or the Grishaverse exhibit certain harmful tropes. I also don't know if you are aiming for low vs high fantasy, or the degree of your reliance on real world culture / religion / identity cues.
But don't you think it's far easier for this fantasy project to not have the additional burden of historical accuracy in the worldbuilding? Not only because I agree with Mod Marika that perhaps you seem hesitant about the identity aspect, but because your WIP idea can include themes of othering and cultural belonging (and yes, even jabs at supremacist institutions) in an original fantasy universe too. I don't think I would mind if I saw a couple of cultural markers of a Mughal Era India-inspired society without getting a full rundown of their agricultural practices, social conventions and tax systems, lol.
Mod Abhaya has provided a few good resources about what *not* to do when drawing heavily from cultural coding. With that at hand, I don't think your project should be a problem if you simply make it an alternate universe like Etheria (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), Inys (The Priory of the Orange Tree) or Earthsea (the Earthsea series, Ursula K. Le Guin). Mind you, we can trace the analogues to each universe, but there is a lot of freedom to maneuver as you wish when incorporating identities in original fantasy. And of course, multiple sensitivity readers are a must! Wishing you the best for the project.
- Mod Mimi
#asks#multiracial#multicultural#south asian#sri lankan#senegalese#west african#identity#representation#worldbuilding#fantasy#mythology#folklore#fairies#deities#adoption#identity issues#mixed experiences#coding
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Untouchable IX - Azriel x Reader
Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader
Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.
Warnings: angst, physical torture, violence
a/n: guys, I’m so sorry this part took a long time to come out. I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Part 10 will be the final chapter/epilogue :)
➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V
➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Part IX
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Days might’ve gone by…days…months…years. Time was an elusive being to you. Had been since the moment the mating bond had snapped between you and Azriel. Since that one last second you got to have with him—your mate.
Koschei kept you strung up in chains, your wrist shackled above your head, your feet barely touching the floor. Your entire body ached with pain. Blood crusted on the white slip he had you put in.
When he had shadowed you back to his small cabin on the lake, you had assumed he would turn you into one of the swans, like he had with the other girls. But apparently, none of you had ever learned the full story.
Vassa had certainly never mentioned this part. Not that you blamed her. You wouldn’t want to talk about it either. How he liked to beat the girls he captured, break them in, before transforming them into one of his pets—forever tied to this lake.
You didn’t want to give up but it was getting harder and harder each day. But you had to. You couldn’t let that day in the clearing be the last time you got to see Azriel…to see your mate.
A few tears leaked from the corner of your eyes at the thought of him, of how he must be feeling with you gone. Everything you both had wished for had come true only to last for a mere second in time before the universe tore you apart once more. It was cruel. It was… no word could come close to describing it. It couldn’t be the end of your story. You couldn’t let it be.
The door to the room you were confined in opened and you whimpered at the sight of the sorcerer.
“Oh, little pet,” he purred, “Are you not happy to see me? And here I thought we were finally making progress.”
“Fuck you,” you groaned, swaying on your shackles as you tried to distance yourself from him.
He gave you a serpentine smile. “The stubborn ones are so much more fun to break.”
You glared at him as he stalked over to you, a cup of water in his hands. You had kicked and bucked the first few times but after all of the torture he put you through the past hours, you had no energy left to do anything but dangle there.
“Now, are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?” He held up the water to your mouth but you twisted your head away, slamming your lips shut. “Ah, the hard way it is.”
Excitement filled his eyes as he landed a punch straight in your gut, knocking the air right out of your lungs. You gasped and he grabbed your chin roughly, squeezing the sides of your mouth and making it impossible to snap your jaw shut.
He poured the water into your mouth but you spit it back up, right on his face. You knew it was full of faebane because this was the third time he had come in here to give it to you.
He growled as he wiped away your spit before slapping your cheek hard enough that your head whipped to the side and blood swelled in your mouth. You heaved, letting it trickle down your jaw and onto the floor.
He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to face him again, hooking his fingers over your bottom teeth and yanking your jaw open once again. This time when he poured the water into your mouth, he quickly slammed it shut and plugged your nose.
“Drink it,” he ordered.
You glared at him defiantly but it did nothing to help you as you ran out of air and choked the water down. He let go of you and you greedily sucked in air.
“Good girl,” he grinned. “See how much easier it is when you listen to me?”
You said nothing. You couldn’t. Not as the faebane coursed through your body, extinguishing all the magic that had started to replenish as the last batch wore off. Not as your wounds and bruises stopped healing and pain slammed into your body.
The faebane he liked to give you was partially diluted. Just enough to let it wear off quicker so you had time to heal in between his sessions but not enough to fully heal or get your magic back. He liked working with a clean canvas but didn’t let your magic linger enough to rid you of pain entirely.
Koschei circled around your hanging body and you heard him fiddling behind you. The sound of leather in his palm had you squirming.
“Now, where were we?”
The crack of the whip against your back rippled through your body and you couldn’t fight the scream that erupted from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push your consciousness into the deepest crevices of your mind, where you might find the tiniest bit of solace as one name constantly repeated in your thoughts.
Azriel.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”
Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.
“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”
Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.
He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her.
And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.
It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day.
He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare.
“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.
“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!”
“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—”
“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!”
The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy.
“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.
Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?”
He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her.
And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together.
“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around.
“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”
Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms.
Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.”
“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.
“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.”
“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”
“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.”
“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.”
“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked.
Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time.
He’d need to have faith in her.
“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”
“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”
“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out. Maybe it was unfair, but he was not ready to accept any apologies from Rhys. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
If their plan worked, Azriel would have his mate back in his arms, back in Velaris, safe and sound by tonight. It had to work. It had to work because there was no way he could go through another sleepless night in an empty bed. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs; he simply could not live without her. He would either be back in Velaris tonight with his mate or six feet under because he wasn’t leaving this damn lake without her.
The Valkyries are ready, Az.
Rhysand’s voice in his head caused his fists to clench. He was not any closer to forgiving him than he was yesterday but that was a problem for a different day. Right now they’d have to work together to get his mate back and nothing would stand in his way, certainly not his own pride.
The plan was simple in theory. They had decided to use Koschei’s weakness against him—females. Some of the Valkyries were willing to help and he trusted their training. If things went correctly, they wouldn’t even need to fight.
Azriel was crouched, hiding and waiting for the mating bond to begin singing again. He hated that he couldn’t just rush in and take her. Hated that she was likely being tortured as they sat out here waiting for the right moment to begin their plan. Azriel was used to having to wait around like this. It was a part of his job, after all. But right now, it was excruciating.
But finally… finally he felt it. That tiny spark. That gold thread reforming.
It’s time, Rhys.
Okay, wait for the signal.
They had to lure Koschei out. He couldn’t see though because he was waiting behind the cabin on the other side of the lake, ready to fly to one of the landings so he could sneak his way inside.
Alright, we’ve got his attention. Good luck, Azriel. Bring my sister home but make sure you come home too.
He couldn’t promise his brother that. He wasn’t leaving here without her, no matter what happened.
I will.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
A noise caused you to look up despite the pain the movement caused. Your eyes widened in surprise as a shadowed figure stood in the doorway, blue light emitting from their form. Your vision was going in and out of focus, blurring everything. You blinked one…twice…
The person finally stepped into the light.
“Az?” You wheezed out.
Azriel swore and rushed forward until he was right in front of you, holding your face in his hands. He was speaking but you couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears. You must be hallucinating. There was no way Azriel was really here in front of you. It was not possible…
“—can you hear me, baby? Fuck, we’ve got to get you out of these chains.”
“Az,” you rasped again, “Is…is this real? Are you real?”
His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, the emotion swimming in them threatening to tear your heart right out of your chest. Pain, rage, desperation, guilt. Your eyes flooded with tears of relief.
“I’m real. I’m here with you, baby,” he said, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to get you out of these chains, okay? And then I’m going to get you out of here.”
“H-how?” you stuttered out because you had no idea how he was standing here in this cabin when it seemed like an impossible feat.
“Later. I'll explain later. Do you think you can start trying to take down the wards around this place?”
"I'll try," you whispered but your magic had barely started regenerating. The wounds on your back weren't even beginning to heal yet.
The sound of a door slamming open rang through the house. You let out a whimper and Azriel’s eyes widened in fear as he looked at you but not fear for himself…fear for you.
“Fuck, we’ve got to go. Now,” he said, frantically.
The fear in his eyes faded to cold, hard rage and he grabbed the chains above your head and yanked them apart with his bare hands. You collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain, your legs unable to hold you. Azriel caught you on the way down, kneeling with you.
“I’ve got you, babygirl,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
You could still feel the wounds on your back bleeding, some ripping open as you curled in towards Azriel. Your head was still pounding, your body still in agony. Azriel wrapped his arms around you and helped you stand up, letting you lean your entire weight against him. Stomping footsteps were coming down the hallway, almost to the room you were being kept in.
“We need to get out of here,” he was frantically whispering, his hands holding you by the upper arms, your wrists still in cuffs with a bit of the chain attached.
You stood on shaky legs, raising your head to see Koschei standing in the doorway, his face twisted into a grin that sent chills down your spine.
“Az!”
Azriel twisted around, his wings flaring out protectively to block you just as Koschei sent a blast of dark magic careening your way. It came at the two of you so fast, Azriel was unable to throw up a shield.
You were able to yank Azriel behind a stack of crates just as the wave of darkness clipped his wing. He let out a cry of pain, his entire body tensing as the darkness ripped through tendon and bone. You nearly cried out with him as the wing that was hit fell limp.
“Did you think you could fool me with your little plan, shadowsinger?” Koschei purred out as the two of you hid behind the crates. “Did you think I’d let you steal my pet? You’re a fool!”
Despite the agony he was in, Azriel twisted the two of you around, covering your whole body with his. Another blast of darkness caused the crates in front of you to explode to pieces, sending splinters of wood flying that pierced through any exposed skin and you let out a tiny scream of fear.
Azriel pulled you up and helped you run further back in the room, unable to leave with Koschei blocking the door. Another blast of magic hit the both of you just as you ducked behind a rack of the weapons and tools Koschei had been using to torture you with.
You cried out in pain, your jaw smacking against the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood filled your mouth as you pushed yourself up, your whole body aching, turning to make sure Azriel was okay.
But Azriel had taken the brunt of the hit, shielding your body as much as he could. A deep laceration cut across his torso, blood seeping over his leathers. His body was tense, his wing still limp on the floor. You knew he was holding back his cries of pain for your sake.
The sorcerer strided into the room, leisurely, as if this was at most a minor inconvenience to him. Darkness seeped from his figure, tendrils running along the floor towards the two of you.
“I’m going to distract him,” Azriel whispered to you. “You need to make a run for it. The Valkyries will be waiting for you, okay? They’ll help get you home.”
“No,” you cried out, clinging to the front of his leathers. “I’m not leaving you behind, Azriel!”
Azriel stroked your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to have to, princess. I need you to get out of here, do you hear me? Get out of here and go as far away as you possibly can. The others will find you, I promise.”
Tears filled your eyes as he held your face with such care and tenderness. His own eyes were filled with that same cold rage and a heavy resolve. You shook your head rapidly.
“I’m not leaving you, Azriel,” you repeated.
“Why don’t you come on out, shadowsinger?” Koschei called out, his voice filled with amusement. “You can fight me for the girl. I’ll even let you make the first move.”
Azriel was the most powerful warrior you knew but even he would be no match for a Death God. Facing Koschei would mean certain death and by the way Azriel was staring at you, he knew that. His eyes traced over your entire face as if he were committing it to his memory.
“I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispered to you, his thumbs stroking away your tears. “I’m sorry for ever making that bargain that kept me away from you but I want you to know that even after all those years, it has always—will always—be you that I love. You were my first and only love and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you the life you deserve. I will find you in the next one, I promise, even if I have to crawl my way out of hell to get back to you. Even if I have to tear apart the universe, I will find you. You are my mate and even death can’t take that away from us. I love you. I will always love you.”
“Azriel,” you choked out, your fingers tightening on his leathers, but he simply placed his hands over yours and lightly tore them from him. “Az, you can’t—”
Azriel cut you off, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. A kiss full of love and despair. You tasted your salty tears through it, tears that kept pouring at the realization that this was the very first kiss the two of you shared that didn’t cause him any pain.
And it would be your last.
Azriel stood up as much as he could, his right wing still dragging along the floor. Bruises were appearing on his jaw, blood still poured from the wound on his chest.
“Azriel, no!”
You reached out for him, to yank him back, but he stepped away, exposing himself to Koschei.
“Look at you,” Koschei said with a grin, “So ready to die for your love. I’m going to enjoy killing you in front of your mate.”
“Fuck you,” Azriel snarled as he spat out some blood. “If I’m dying here then I’m dragging you to hell with me.”
Shadows exploded from Azriel in a swirl of never ending darkness that launched itself towards Koschei. But Koschei’s own darkness seemed to absorb it and grow in size before he sent it careening back to Azriel. It burned through the blue shield Azriel had thrown up and knocked straight into him, sending him flying through the room until he collided with the back wall which nearly buckled under the force.
You screamed out for him, trying to stand but falling once again. You were dehydrated, starved, and beaten within an inch of your life but you pushed your body as much as you could, using the edge of the table to help you stand as Koschei stalked towards your mate.
Azriel had wanted you to disable the wards....If you could do that, if you could tear them down, you could try winnowing to Azriel so the both of you could winnow away before Koschei killed either of you. You were wheezing as you forced yourself to stand and concentrate. You had to do this. You had to get Azriel out of here.
Koschei descended on him once again and they began a battle of shadows and darkness. You could hardly keep track of either of them as they began to disappear and reappear in other places with their shadows, each taking shots at each other. You winced at every noise of their magic colliding, winced at every brutal hit Azriel took from the Death God.
You could feel more of your magic renewing itself, the open wounds on your back finally starting to heal. As more and more pain wore off, you focused your energy into tearing down the wards, trying to drown out the sound of the fighting in the room for now.
It was like an intricate spider web of silver light. One you'd have to disentangle carefully to not trigger. You had no idea what sorts of traps lay in the magic around this place. So strand by strand, piece by piece, you worked on taking it apart. It just had to be enough, enough to give you a small window of opportunity.
You heard Azriel cry out and your focus slipped for a second. You frantically looked over your shoulder and screamed his name as Koschei slammed him into the ground a few yards away. His condition had worsened, his face had gone pale from all the bloodloss, less shadows seemed to be swirling around him as his magic weakened from all the use. You had to hurry.
“Go,” he rasped out, glancing your way. “Y/n, go—run!”
But you wouldn’t…couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him to face this alone.
You tried to remember everything from your lessons with Helion on spellcleaving. Tried to remember how to spot what strand to pull and when, as if the ward was a symphony of sorts and you were playing its violin. One after the other. Twisting and pulling each and every way until finally… finally, you were able to carve out a small hole. But it needed to be bigger. Big enough to winnow through.
Suddenly, something sharp struck within your chest and you fell to your knees in pain, losing your concentration. You clutched at your chest, your heart feeling like it was tearing itself into two. A feeling of dread and terror washed over you when you realized the mating bond that was beginning to fray as life was being sucked from Azriel. Another stab of agony made you crumble all the way to the ground, crying out.
You looked up to see Azriel on his knees in the center of the room. His breathing was heavy and slow, he was covered in his own blood, his leather armor torn to pieces and bruises decorated his beautiful face. His wings were slumped on the ground, the right one still nearly shredded. And above him stood the Death God, his darkness wrapped around your mate's throat, ready to squeeze the remaining life out of him.
Time seemed to pause in that minute—like the whole world was about to collapse in on itself. The breath was sucked right from your lungs. The very fiber of your being was crying at the sight of your mate on death's door, ripping itself apart as you felt his pain like it was your own. Your hand inched on the ground towards Azriel as you weakly called out his name.
His head turned slightly, his eyes widening as he realized you hadn’t ran away like he had hoped you did. That you were still here with him. He shook his head at you, unable to speak, trying to will you to get up and make a run for it before it was too late. But you would die here with him, because no part of you wanted to live without him.
They always say your life flashes before your eyes when you're on the brink of death.
But that is not what happened.
Instead, a life you never lived did.
A private mating ceremony with Azriel, declaring your love for each other as a priestess tied a ribbon around both your hands, linking you forever. Azriel painstakingly building a small cottage for you on the edge of Velaris with his own hands just because the ones you toured weren’t like the one you had dreamt of. A life where you and Azriel were together, mated and married, living in that cottage on the outskirts of Velaris. You and Azriel on a balcony watching starfall as he gently placed a hand on your round belly. Azriel with his arms wrapped around you, pressing kisses to your neck as you watched two children who resembled the two of you running through the tall grass in the meadow behind your home.
A whole life that they two of you could've had. A life that was stolen from you because of a bargain made three hundred years ago. A life you would never get to live because this would be your ending. Two lovers torn apart for centuries, finally able to be together as they wished only to met their demise before their life together even began.
No.
No.
You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, crawling on your hands and knees towards your mate.
No.
This would not be your ending. You wouldn't allow it. No, too much had been stolen from the two of you and this...this was not how your story together would end.
You channeled all your magic, pulling from the depths of your soul, pulling from parts of yourself you didn't even know existed, all the way down to the core of your being. You were the Princess of Night—a child of night and shadow, for Gods’ sake. A child born with the darkside of the moon in her. A child blessed with magic. You pulled and pulled at your darkness until it was pouring out of you, seeping from your skin and bones.
It lurched forward and slammed into the Death God, pushing him away from Azriel—away from your mate.
Death would not have him today because he was yours.
Azriel fell forward onto his hands, gasping for air. You stood up, limping over to Azriel and standing in front of him, glaring at Koschei. You didn’t have any armor on, still in the tattered night gown with your wrists shackled together, didn’t even have a weapon, but you had your magic back and it would have to be enough.
Koschei chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. Although he had brought Azriel to his knees, the Death God hadn’t escaped without injuries of his own, a testiment to Azriel’s power.
“You know,” Koschei said, striding towards you. “I thought we’d have more time together—you and I. But it seems like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, child. So now, I shall end you and your mate. Hm, two mates dying together, how romantic.”
“Fuck you,” you snarled, your darkness curling around your form. Azriel was weakly calling out your name from behind you, his hand reaching to grab you so he could push you away but you didn’t let him.
“You know, this is the most excitement I’ve had in a long time. I’m feeling rather charitable so I’ll offer you this—become one of my swans and I’ll let your mate go.”
Azriel let out a growl from behind you that nearly shook the room but you stepped forward, as if considering it. Koschei’s body relaxed, thinking the fight was over, like you hoped he would.
But the darkness that was curling around you shot forward like a chain and wrapped itself around his neck before he could deflect it. You yanked on it, causing him to choke as he fell to his knees—in the same exact position he had Azriel in before.
His hands clawed at the darkness but you didn’t let up, not for a second. Not as that life you dreamed about replayed in your mind over and over again. Not as you thought of Azriel, your mate. No, you wouldn’t let up. You sent all your hatred, all of your anger into that darkness.
Your darkness spread around the Death God and started shoving its way into him from all orifices, his ears, his mouth. Everywhere until he was being consumed by it.
“You should’ve never laid a hand on my mate,” you growled at the Death God who was gasping for air and then you yanked your rope of darkness tighter and tighter—ignoring the agony you felt as your magic burned through you until your well was drained entirely.
Koschei’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped over finally—crashing to the floor. He…he wasn’t dead. You could still hear his faint heartbeat but he was out cold. You let out a breath of relief.
“P-princess…”
You whirled around as Azriel rasped your name. His hazel eyes met yours for a second, blinking lazily before they closed and he fell to the ground. You let out a cry of alarm and rushed for him, falling to the ground next to him. You wrapped your arms around his limp body, pulling him into your lap. His breathing was labored, heavy. His heartbeat barely audible.
“Azriel,” you cried, brushing some hair from his face. “Come on, baby. Don’t—you can’t…you can’t do this to me. Wake up, please!”
His eyes blinked open for a second and some of your tears fell on his cheeks. You pressed a hand to the deepest wound on his torso, trying to stop some of the bleeding.
“H-hey, princess,” Azriel choked out, a soft smile on his lips, still in a haze.
“Hey, shadowsinger,” you whispered, smiling at him weakly.
“You’re…,” he coughed, a bit of blood dribbling from his lips. He was in bad shape. You needed to get him to a healer. Now. “You’re touching me.”
“I am,” you choked on your own sobs, running your hand down his face. You tried to reach out to your brother through your mind. You didn’t have enough magic left to winnow the both of you out of here.
Rhys…Rhys, please, I need you!
“Y-you’re touching me,” Azriel repeated, his eyes closing. “And i-it feels like…heaven.”
You couldn’t help the bittersweet laugh that escaped as you wiped at the tears still pouring down your cheeks.
Dove, I’m here! Are you okay? Where is Azriel?
“Az, I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you open your eyes for me? Please, baby, just for a little longer.”
He’s here with me but he’s in bad shape, Rhys. I don’t have any magic left. I can’t get us out of here. Please…I don’t know what to do.
“Mm…‘mm so tired,” Azriel slurred out.
“I know, baby, but you’ve got to stay awake. Just for a bit and then you can rest as long as you want to, okay?”
I’m coming, dove. Hold on.
You let out a sob as Azriel’s eyes shut again and his breathing slowed. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t leave me, Az. Not when I finally have you. Come on, baby, wake up!”
Darkness swirled around the cabin and for a second, you thought Koschei had woken up but you sobbed even harder as your brother finally emerged from it. Rhys glanced at the passed out Death God before he saw you holding Azriel on the floor.
“Rhys, please! Please, he needs a healer,” you cried.
Your brother’s eyes widened at the sight of his shadowsinger. He rushed forward, falling to his knees beside you.
“Let me take him,” your brother whispered. You didn’t want to let your mate go but you knew you couldn’t lift him. “It’s okay, dove. Let me help him.”
You passed Azriel over to him, watching your brother take your mate into his arms and lift him off the floor. You stood on shaky legs, your own vision beginning to blacken as the exhaustion of all the magic use finally caught up to you. The last thing you remembered was Rhys winnowing the two of you to some makeshift camp away from the lake and crying out for Azriel before darkness consumed you.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
One week later
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The sound of the door opening stirred you from your slumber. You sat up with a groan, your back aching because of the way you had fallen asleep—hunched over in a chair, next to Azriel’s bed where he still lied unconscious, as he had been since the day he’d help you escape from Koschei’s grasp.
You blinked the sleep from your eyes, taking notice of your brother in the doorway. He hesitantly stepped inside the room, closing the door shut behind him softly. You hadn’t spoken to him since you had woken up a week ago. Not when he was part of the reason for all of this, for ever making Azriel stay away from you.
And he knew he deserved your resentment and had kept away for the most part. But you noticed how sometimes after falling asleep you’d wake up with a blanket thrown around your shoulders that smelled like him or there’d be food waiting for you on the bedside table that you knew came from him.
You grabbed Azriel’s hand, squeezing it lightly. You felt comforted by his warmth. Madja wasn’t able to tell how long it would take for Azriel to heal. He had taken a lot of damage, all of it mostly internal because of Koschei’s magic, and that was taking far longer to heal.
You were so scared he’d never wake up. So scared that you never left his bedside. You'd sit here for the rest of your life if you had to.
Rhysand was staring down at Azriel’s limp body, his eyes swimming with tears. You could see the guilt he felt written all over him. He’d almost lost someone he’d considered his brother because of that stupid bargain he’d made him make.
He came around the side of the bed until he was standing beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Part of you wanted to cringe away from his touch but another part also just really needed him as a brother right now.
“I am so sorry, dove,” he whispered. “Making Azriel make that bargain with me is something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry I kept you away from your mate. I’m so sorry for ever thinking it was my right to control who you loved. I understand if you never want to talk to me again—if you hate me now.”
A moment of silence passed before you stood and looked at him. “Rhys, you fucked up. You really did. I know you were traumatized after mother died—after I almost did, too. What you did has caused me and Azriel so much pain and maybe I’ll be mad at you for it for the rest of our lives but I Rhys, you’re my brother. I could never hate you.”
A small sob escaped from his lips before Rhys pulled you into a warm embrace. You crumbled into your brother’s arms, seeking a type of comfort only he could provide. Your own tears slipped down your cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, dove. I’ll keep apologizing until I can’t speak. When Azriel wakes up, whatever you guys want, it’s yours—all of it.”
“I’m so scared, Rhysie,” you cried, burying your face in his chest. “I’m so scared he’s not going to wake up. I’m so scared I’ll never get to talk to him again…”
“Azriel is the strongest person I know,” Rhys whispered into your hair. “He’s going to wake up, dove. As long as you’re here, he will fight his way through whatever is keeping him from you. He’s going to wake up.”
“I never even got to tell him how much he means to me. I never told him how much I love him or how ready I am to accept the mating bond. I never…I never—”
You fell into a fit of sobs again, unable to even speak. Rhys held you tightly, stroking your back.
“He knows, dove. He knows how much you love him. And you’ll get the chance to tell him, okay? You will.”
But all you could do was pray to the Gods that you would get that chance.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
A few more agonizing days passed by. Days that seemed longer than the span of your entire life. Days spent next to Azriel’s bedside, praying each and every morning that this would be the day he finally woke. You didn’t lose hope, you couldn’t because just the thought of him never waking up would send you into a spiral so deep, there’d be no pulling you out of it.
You let out a sigh and dropped your head into your hands.
Is this how he felt while you’d been chained in Koschei’s cabin?
You still felt so guilty…guilty that you hadn’t trusted Azriel’s reassurances that there was nothing between him and Elain, guilty that you had fallen for the Prince’s cruel trap. If you had just trusted your mate, he wouldn’t be lying here after nearly dying for you.
“P-prin…p-princess?”
Your heart leaped to your throat and you looked up so rapidly, you almost cracked your neck. Azriel blinked at you in a daze. His eyes held confusion as he glanced around, realizing he was in his room back at the House of Wind. His beautiful hazel eyes met yours again, glowing gold in the soft faelight.
“Azriel,” you breathed out, reaching forward to grab his hand. “You’re…you’re awake.”
“I-I think I am,” he said, his words still slurring a bit. “But you’re touching me and I’m not in pain and normally this usually only happens in my dreams.”
You smiled through the tears sliding down your face, tenderly cupping his cheek.
“You’re awake,” you replied. “You’re awake and I’m here, touching you and it doesn’t hurt because the bargain has been broken. You are my mate, Azriel.”
A dopey smile took over Azriel’s face. “I’m your mate.”
You nodded with a small laugh. “You’re my mate, Azriel. And I am yours.”
“You are mine,” he repeated softly, then lurched forward like all of his memories finally came back. You jumped into action, helping him sit up.
“Careful,” you said. “You’re still healing. You’ve been asleep for a little over a week now.”
“What! W-what happened?”
You brushed some of his hair from his forehand, running your fingers through it. Now that you could touch each other without causing him pain, you weren’t ever going to stop. He leaned into your touch, looking up at you with such reverence and love, it caused your cheeks to turn pink.
“I kind of…lost it when Koschei was about to kill you,” you finally answered, your voice a mere whisper. “My magic erupted and I choked him out. I didn’t kill him but it gave us enough time to get out of there. I broke the wards like you told me to and my brother came for us.”
“Are you telling me that my mate choked out a Death God?” He grinned at you and you lightly smacked his shoulder.
“It’s not funny, Az. You nearly died! Do you know how awful this past week has been? I…I thought I might never talk to you again. I thought you might never wake up!”
Azriel lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I know, babygirl. How do you think I felt all those days you were trapped with Koschei? I wanted to get you the minute he shadowed you away but Rhysand wouldn’t let me go.”
Well, Azriel using your brother’s full name told you exactly how he was feeling towards his High Lord at the moment.
“I’m glad he didn’t,” you said, sternly. “You would’ve died and I would’ve given up. The only thing that kept me going in there was the thought of you, Azriel. The thought that maybe, maybe I could find my way back to you.”
Azriel wiped at the tears falling from your eyes, gently. “I’m so sorry, princess. I’m sorry for everything.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that the mating bond finally snapped between us…if it meant that I could have you now.”
“I’m yours in any way you want me, princess,” Azriel reaffirmed, yanking you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you despite your protests because of his injuries. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’m yours from now until always.”
You pulled away to look him in the eyes, your heart pulsing at everything you found in them.
“And I am yours, Azriel,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
He smiled, fully smiled. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”
And then he pressed a passionate kiss against your lips. A kiss free of pain. A kiss that was full of every single emotion he felt towards you—admiration, craving, devotion, but above all else, love.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
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❄︎ Not Over you ❄︎
↳ Pairing: Minho x Reader
❧ Genre : demon Minho / dad Minho (kind of) / exes to lovers / fluff / smut / slight angst
❧ Warnings: oral (f), spanking, overstimulation, hair pulling, unprotected sex
❧ Words: +17k
❧ Summary: Minho had it all. He was strong, powerful and beautiful. An immortal that people either loved or feared. Except you. You, a simple human. You who he loved so dearly. And yet, You who had left him heartbroken.
❧ A/N: Hi guys! It's finally out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing ♥. Thank you wifey for dealing with my bullshits and helping me out ♥
Likes and reblogs are appreciated. Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about it ♥
❧ Taglist: @hoes4lino , @queenmea604 , @devilsmatches , @straykeedz , @kangyeonie , @malunar28replies , @amastaa , @yoontaethings
Minho thought that after being alive for nearly five thousand years, nothing in this world (or another) could surprise him anymore.
Wrong. Terribly wrong.
The moment he opened his door and found you shivering and looking terribly worn out, he knew the world had come to its end. Because why would you, his ex-girlfriend, the love of his life, be standing at his doorsteps after almost three years of absence?
He stared at you, unmoving, face blank, mind empty. It had to be a trick. Or maybe he had finally lost his mind from being so old. It had to be his imagination, his restless mind playing a very dirty trick. Minho closed his eyes, took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes once more, you were still here. No. It wasn’t a trick and it wasn’t just his imagination.
“What-“ He started and stopped. What was he supposed to say? The urge to slam the door right to your face was so tempting. It was what he was supposed to do. He offered you his heart on a plate, he offered you the world and you trampled on it and left without looking back. And yet, he couldn’t do it. Not when you looked like a ghost, a shadow of yourself. Whatever had happened to you, left a mark on you and despite his anger, his resentment, he couldn’t ignore the tug at his heart. He worried.
“I’m sorry.” You finally found your voice. Being in his presence overwhelmed you in so many ways. Being finally face to face with him hurt more than you had expected. You knew, going to Minho was a risk; for your heart that despite your choice, never fully recovered, but also for your life. You knew, deep inside you, that no matter how angry, how petty Minho could get, he would never hurt you but you couldn’t control your fears.
Minho opened his mouth, a snarky comment right on the tip of his tongue but all of it vanished the moment his eyes finally fell on what you were holding in your arms. Too stunned with your presence, the dark green blanket pressed tightly against your chest went completely unnoticed. Until now. As he stared at it, he quickly realized that it wasn’t the blanket you were clenching so tightly against you, as if you were scared someone would try to steal it from you. No, it wasn’t just a blanket. Warmth and pure innocence radiated from within the blanket.
Minho took a step back. Surprise, fear and hurt flashed all at once in his eyes. And yet, one question remained. Why were you at his doorstep with a baby?
“I-“ You hesitated as your eyes went back and forth between your little baby and him. “I didn’t know where else to go.” It was the lamest excuse you could come up with but it was also the truth. Of course, there was a whole story behind your presence and you knew, inevitably, you would have to share it with him.
“You got to be kidding me.” Minho growled, frustrated with your explanation. “You come back three years later and with a baby on top of that.” To say that Minho was not amused would be the understatement of the century. He drew nearer, stopping inches from you.
And then it hit him. The scent. The scent, he hated so badly. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the tiny hand that appeared from under the blanket and grabbed a lock of your hair. “Why is there an angel in your arms, Y/N?”
As he sniffed and tasted more of the baby’s scent, the answer formed inside his head but his heart, already aching just because of your presence, refused it. All color drained from his face.
You averted your eyes from Minho’s face and looked instead at your baby, your little girl and the reason you found your way back to Minho. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at her and press a kiss on her forehead. “Hana is my daughter.”
“No.” Minho refused and put space between the two of you. Maybe he wanted to distance himself from you just so your own scent could stop messing with his mind, or maybe he was hurt because of what this little human-being meant. “There is no way you got pregnant with a fucking angel.”
You winced at his unspoken words. You could perfectly understand his anger, after all, didn’t you leave him because you refused to deal with what he was? When Minho confessed to you about being a demon, he shared his most prized secret; he did it because he trusted you, loved you. But you got scared. You weren’t a strong believer to begin with but when faced with the truth, you had no other choice and it terrified you. You doubted everything and even his love. Demons weren’t supposed to be nice. They weren’t supposed to be able to love and cherish. And definitely not a human.
“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice shaky.
“I don’t believe you. You humans lie so easily.”
‘That’s rich coming from a demon.’ You wanted to say but refrained yourself. It would do you no good to pick a fight with Minho. No, you needed his help and if you had to deal with his pettiness and hatred – you will.
“I didn’t know he was an angel!” You said instead, a little bit more confident.
Sadly for you, Minho was far from ready to accept this excuse, even if you were right. Demons and angels had at least two things in common. One, they could hide their identity without trouble. Nobody could tell them apart from humans. Two, they were biggest liars in the world. “Oh come on! They’re not that hard to distinguish.”
“To you maybe! But I’m human, Minho, in case you had forgotten. I don’t see a fucking difference if you don’t show it! I would have never guessed you were a demon just like I couldn’t tell he was an angel.”
“Were you that desperate to get fucked?”
On second thought, to hell with needing his help. You were clearly out of your mind to think even for a second that Minho would accept to help you, to shelter you. You had spent the last ten days running away, never staying more than a night at the same place, too scared to be found, too scared Hana would be taken from you. But Minho’s hatred for angels was apparent and so was his resentment for you. You had to leave before it was too late.
“Fuck you, Minho.”
Hana stirred in your arms, sensing your distress and hurt and anger. You pulled her closer to your face and peppered her tiny face with kisses, trying to comfort her, to tell her that everything was fine as long as they were together. Nobody could take her away from you – you would fight till death.
You turned around to leave for good this time. There was no coming back. But before you could even take two steps, Minho grabbed your shoulder. You didn’t dare to turn around and look at him, too scared of what you would see on his face.
In this moment, Minho hated his treacherous heart for acting on its own accord. He had watched you leave once and it left him in pieces. He couldn’t do it a second time. Maybe he was out of his mind and maybe he would come to regret his decision, but right now, seeing your body so frail, yet your spirit wild and fierce – he couldn’t ignore it.
“Stay with me. For tonight at least.” He finally said. He knew, he probably should apologize for his harsh words, but he couldn’t. “You need some rest and I guess-“ He paused and peaked over your shoulder at Hana. Damn, she was only a few days old but he could already see traces of you on her face. He took a deep breath, “And I guess Hana needs some rest too.”
That night, Minho didn’t get any sleep. His mind was restless, head filled with thoughts of you, of your baby and nothing else. For a while, he laid in his bed, pondering over what he should do with you. Should he let you leave? Should he help you? He was far from being fond of angels but he didn’t want them at his doorsteps either. Not that he was scared of them, quite the opposite. But the truce between angels and demons lasted for the past five hundred years and it should stay this way.
Realizing that he wouldn’t get any sleep, Minho got out of his bed and despite the little voice in his head telling him to stay away from the room you slept in, he walked inside the room. You were sleeping tightly, curled around Hana, keeping her close in fear she would be taken from you.
Now that his anger lessened, he wanted to know the full story. He wanted to know how you managed to go back to your life while he was stuck with the memories of your love. He wanted to know how and why your path crossed with a bloody angel and how in the world he managed to get you pregnant. It was possible, Hana was a living proof, but it wasn’t that easy. Was he jealous? Maybe a little.
“This is madness.” He told himself, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You had lost weight, too much even, he could see it. For a moment, he wondered how you managed to give birth to a healthy little girl while being in such state.
Hana opened her eyes, sensing another presence in the room, a shadow hovering over them. She stared at Minho; his eyes flashed red but she didn’t cry, she didn’t budge and simply stared at him in wonder.
“Hello there.” Minho whispered, lightly surprise that the baby didn’t show any fear with his presence.
Hana’s response came in the form of outstretched, tiny arms. Her eyes shone brightly and turned gold.
“Huh. Now, aren’t you precious.” Minho leaned over her to have a better look, his own hand outstretched but he hesitated. She was the result of you and an angel, this thought alone disgusted him. But could he really hate such an innocent part of you? Hana made the decision for him; she didn’t hesitate as she grabbed his finger with impressive strength. Ten days old or not, she was half angel and her strength was already manifesting. “It’s gonna be fun, I can tell.”
Hana seemed to agree as she held his finger a little tighter.
The next time Minho visited your room, you were awake and feeding Hana. You sat by the window, enjoying some ray of sun.
You glanced at him, your heart pounding in your chest at the simple sight of him. There was a lot to discuss, you knew but it didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Minho leaned against the wall and watched you from afar. Ten hours of sleep and you looked more alive than last night but still not enough. Your face was sunk, dark circles under your eyes. It would take you more than one good night of sleep to recover and he was perfectly aware of that.
“You look like shit.” He commented and slapped himself mentally for being rude, unprovoked.
“You would be too after giving birth and running away right away.” Instead of feeling offended by his statement, because he was right, you did look like shit and you felt like shit too, you simply cocked a brow at him.
“Nah. They would be all dead if it was me.”
You rolled your eyes at him. Of course, he would say something like that. But then, you guessed he was right. “Right. The almighty Minho.”
“I actually like the sound of that.” The corner of his mouth turned up, amused with the small banter. It felt better than he expected.
For a moment, it felt like the three years had never happened. You were in his house, with him and joking around. Minho could lie to himself as much as he wanted, but he missed it. A lot.
He cleared his throat and drew closer. He sat on the other side of the bed, keeping his distance just in case you didn’t want him so close. And maybe, a little for his own safety. “We should talk.”
Hana yawned in your arms and slowly closed her eyes. The two of you watched her fall asleep, completely unaware of the dangers lurking in every corner.
“She took after you.” Minho commented, his voice gentle, betraying the fact that he was already growing fond of the little girl, not caring about the fact that she was half-enemy.
“She’s only 11 days old. No way you can tell she looks like me.” You snorted
“But she does.” Minho insisted. “Moreover, she’s half-angel, Y/N, she doesn’t age the same way as you, human do.”
You opened your mouth to protest but then his words dawned on you. You looked down at Hana. You hadn’t seen many babies in your life, but one look at Hana and you would never believe she was only few days old. She looked older. It terrified you to even think how she would look in few months. “How does it work?”
Minho could taste your fear, your pain, he couldn’t ignore it even if he tried. “Don’t worry. It will slow down eventually. You have years before she reaches adulthood.”
You looked at him hopeful. Was he trying to simply appease your mind or was he telling the truth? “Really?”
“Yes.”
You almost whipped in relief but held back. You were so damn tired, your emotions were overloaded and it was getting harder and harder to keep it together. But you had to, for Hana’s sake.
“How did it happen?” Minho finally asked and pointed at Hana.
“Apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson. Looks can be deceiving and I fell right for it again.” You didn’t intend to sound so bitter but your words hit Minho like a slap. You regretted instantly. “Sorry.”
Minho curled his fists on his laps and tried not to think about his feelings, tried not to think about an angel having you when it was supposed to be him. He tried not to think about how much having you at his place tortured him. “How did you find out he was an angel?”
“Well, did you know that my pregnancy didn’t last nine months but five? I got worried with how big I was getting so I went to-“ You stopped and bit on your lips. The name you were about to drop would not please Minho.
“Who did you go to, Y/N?” He too sensed he wouldn’t like your answer.
You cleared your throat. “Amy.”
Minho growled, annoyance showing. “You got to be kidding me.”
“Listen!” You slowly put Hana back on the bed, trying not to wake her up. “I know you were never fond of her and I figured once I found out about that witches and demons don’t get along but I was terrified. Doctors couldn’t explain what was wrong with me but she did.”
Minho tried to be reasonable and forced himself to not make any comment. He didn’t think your story could get any worse but it did with the mention of the witch. Witches couldn’t be trusted. They obeyed to no rules except their owns. “Did she ask something in return of her help?”
You paused and simply stared at him. You obviously didn’t know many witches or demons or angels but judging from Minho’s question you easily guessed that his past experiences were bad. “Amy is a friend, Minho. Witch or not. She helped me to go through the pregnancy and she helped me to deliver Hana.”
“She’s a witch.”
“And a friend.” You defended her stubbornly. Amy was a sweet friend, the only one you trusted. Especially after the attack. “You can hate her all you want but you have to know that Amy took huge risks for my sake.” The night everything changed was still fresh in your mind and still just as painful. “Mere hours after Hana’s birth, he came for her along with other angels.”
Before you could even finish, Minho knew where you were heading. He expected nothing less from angels. For both, demons and angels, it was rare to have children, full blooded or not; they would never leave a special child like Hana behind.
“He tried to convince me to give Hana up. Told me it was for the best and that I wouldn’t even know what to do with a special girl like her. And he’s right. I know shit about angels and I don’t want to know. But I will never give up on my flesh and blood. She’s mine.”
Your voice was filled with venom and anger and a will so strong, Minho could feel it in his bones. He could almost pity the angels who dared to go against a mother, against you. Whoever was Hana’s father, knew nothing about you, otherwise he would have known not to mess with you.
“Amy blasted them away.” You continued. “And even if it was a small victory, I was glad. But I also realized that I couldn’t stay with Amy. They would come back and this time they will be prepared. Amy did the only thing she could to protect me.”
Minho had a hard time to believe that a witch would go to such extent for a human. It seemed unfathomable and yet, Minho saw that Amy truly cared about you. At first, he thought it was another fool play, a trick, but he had to admit defeat.
He rubbed his neck, unsure of what he should tell you. Should he reassure you? Should he be honest with you? “They will come back for her. Angels are petty assholes; they do not forgive. By helping you, she pissed them off.”
You didn’t want to think about what they would do to Amy; you guessed it could get ugly but Hana was your priority, you couldn’t worry for someone else. But you did. What if Amy got hurt because of you? Or worse, what if they kill her? “They won’t kill her, will they?”
Minho’s silence spoke louder. He didn’t think the angels would kill her, no matter how much they hated everything that weren’t them. Witches were dangerous and angering them would not be wise. But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt her enough to make her pay.
“They won’t kill her.” He said in the end. “What happened after you left her?”
“I’ve been running ever since that night.” You admitted. “I didn’t know where to hide and my body started failing me.”
“So you came to me instead.” Minho wasn’t sure how he felt about it. A tiny part of him was glad that you considered him safe enough to seek his help, but the bitter part of him, the jealous monster wanted to scream at you, to bite you, to hurt you the same way you had hurt him. He did none of that. Minho closed his eyes and took another deep breath before opening his eyes and look at you. “Rest. We’ll talk more when you feel better.”
As Minho left your room, hand still on the knob, he wondered what he should do. He knew you were right; Amy had taken a huge risk by fighting angels, they would come to punish her. It didn’t sit right with him. She was a witch but she was your friend who stood by your side.
“You’re making me do some crazy things, Y/N.” Minho muttered as he shook his head in disbelief. He owed you nothing and yet.
“Watch after her while I’m away.” Minho ordered and a shadow moved on the wall in response.
“Your place is boring and so witchy.” Minho commented as he appeared by the fireplace in Amy’s home.
If Amy was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it, instead she kept mixing the herbs. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”
“True, but I still thought you needed it.” Minho answered unbothered as he stepped closer to her. The last, and only time he had seen Amy was the day you innocently introduced her to him. Amy, the best friend who happened to be a damn witch. To say that Minho was not thrilled with the knowledge would be an understatement and the feelings were mutual.
“What are you doing here, Minho?” Amy finally asked, still without looking at him. “If you’re looking for Y/N, she’s not here.”
“I know. She’s at my place.” Minho didn’t hide this fact.
Amy snapped her head towards him, shocked with this piece of information. She opened her mouth and closed instantly, words lost on the tip of her tongue. Realizing she had finally showed him her face, she lowered her head to avoid his gaze. She didn’t want him to judge or pity her.
But it was too late, Minho had seen it all and he didn’t like it. He hoped he would get there first, but the angels worked faster, they wanted their revenge. They hadn’t wasted their time. Fist clenched, he slowly approached her and crouched down before her. “And they say demons are cruel.” Gently he pushed some strands of hair from her face to expose more of the ugly scars the angels have left behind.
“They couldn’t kill me because of my lineage.” Amy admitted, “Something about a truce with my coven.”
Angels and their truce, bullshits, Minho refrained from saying.
“I suppose you already tried to heal it?”
“Of course. No spells, no potions worked. I’m no match to a freaking angel.” Amy replied with bitterness.
“Well, aren’t you lucky I’m a demon.” Minho’s eyes shone a bright red. Angry, furious even. His hands were itchy, he wanted to fight and to kill.
“Wha-“ Amy didn’t have time to react; Minho’s hands were already on her face, his grip firm but gentle, making sure not to hurt her. “What are you doing?”
“Let’s say it’s my way of thanking you for taking care of Y/N.” It was the truth. Of course, it pleased him to go against angels’ plans without them even knowing it, but the main reason was you. He knew you; if you ever found out about Amy’s state you would never forgive yourself.
“Why?”
“Because she’s the only one I have ever loved.” Minho straightened and looked down on her. “She worries for you.”
Amy shook her head in disbelief and chuckled. “So typical Y/N.”
When Minho got back from Amy’s place, his feet led him straight to your room, his body knowing better what he wanted than his mind. You were sleeping peacefully, body curled around Hana, in protection once more. Even unconscious you wanted to make sure she was safe. Minho hated this situation with all his being, but he couldn’t deny that motherhood suited you.
Just when he thought about leaving your room, Hana’s little giggle caught his attention. Slowly, he approached the bed and hovered over your bodies. Hana was wide awake, her eyes shining brightly and with something very familiar to Minho: mischief.
“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” He cocked a brow at her. He shook his head, realizing he was getting either stupid or just tired, thinking she could understand him.
But Hana did understand him as she managed to shake her head, something such a young baby wasn’t supposed to do. Angel’s blood was running strong in her veins.
Hana outstretched her arms, wanting Minho to take her in his arms. He hesitated. It wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t want to get any more involved but Hana had a strong will, something he was familiar with. She frowned at him and tears formed in the corner of her eyes.
“Oh hell no. Don’t do that.” He hurried to take her in his arms. One hand holding as carefully as he could her head, the other wrapped around her tiny body. “Let your mommy sleep. She’s exhausted.”
Hana’s response came in the form of a light slap on his nose, followed by another small giggle.
Minho’s heart did a little flip; how could he resist her natural charms? He could be jealous of the situation, wishing none of that had happened, wishing Hana was his daughter - in the end, he couldn’t come to hate her. Not when she was a piece of you. Not when she stared at him with the same bright eyes as yours.
“Come on. Since you don’t want to sleep anymore, I’m going to entertain you while your mommy is resting.”
Till this day, Minho thought that babies and him would never get along. He thought wrong. Or maybe it was just because Hana was a special baby. She wasn’t afraid of him, not even when his eyes turned red and he tried to scare her. No, she simply giggled and moved her tiny arms, trying to grab his face. Few days old and she was already fearless, he could already imagine the troubles she would bring once older. But he liked it. More than he thought he would.
“What am I gonna do with you hm?” He asked
Hana wiggled in his arms, pushing him as strongly as she could, without words trying to make him understand what she wanted. Minho quirked a brow, amused at her attempt to escape his arms. He put her on the couch and observed how easily she rolled over and got on her knees. She stared at her hands, scrunched up her face in concentration. She pushed, once, twice, until she managed to straighten her body and sit only on her knees. A squeal of satisfaction left her lips and she clapped her tiny hands.
“Well done.” Minho watched her, amazed. He sat on the floor, leaning on his hands as he watched her proudly. “I think it won’t take you long to start walking.” In fact, he was pretty sure it would only take another day or two – way to give you another heart attack, he believed.
“I wonder what else you inherited from him.” Minho tried to sound as neutral as he could manage, but even the thought of the bloody angel made his blood boil. He closed his eyes and tried to erase the image of you and an angel from his mind. He tried not to think about the fact that someone else touched you, someone else saw your beautiful smile, someone else heard your pretty moans. He clenched his fists so tight, his knuckles turned white – Hana groaned while trying to reach for him.
“Wha-hold on.” He hurried to outstretch his arms and catch her before she could fall from the couch in her attempt to get to him. “What were you trying to do, little one hm?”
In response, Hana touched his face, at first it seemed like she wanted to pat his cheeks but then she poked playfully his cheeks instead and giggled. Minho blinked in confusion only to realize that it was her unique way to comfort him.
Minho couldn’t help; his mouth curled into a smile. “Thank you, little one.”
Minho felt you way before he saw you. Not like it was hard to miss when your steps were loud and hurried. And not like he could ignore the taste of your panic. You ran down the stairs, almost falling but catching yourself on time.
“Don’t break your neck right now.” Minho commented from the couch, frowning at your sudden appearance.
You opened your mouth to speak and closed it right away. All your panic vanished at the sight of Hana, sitting comfortably on Minho’s laps, playing with his hands and looking incredibly happy. Your heart was still roaring in your ears; you woke up to an empty bed and for a moment, you thought he had found you.
“I-“ But you couldn’t think straight.
Minho shook his head and averted his eyes from you. “Take a seat. Hana was getting impatient. She wanted to see you.” Not that she could speak and tell him that, but from her behavior, he guessed. She wanted her mom, no matter how nice Minho was.
You did just as he said and sat on the chair across from him. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Minho was so gentle and so comfortable with Hana. She tugged at his hands, conveying a silent message and he chuckled in response. Minho gently scooped Hana in his arms and brought her to you. Having Hana back in your arms had a healing and soothing effect on you, and yet, before you could fully have her, Hana grabbed his fingers and held tightly.
“I think she likes me.” Minho stated the obvious but with so much fondness, you couldn’t believe your eyes.
“I see that.” Your heart swelled with love and a little bit of pride; Hana could already discern who was good and who wasn’t. “How long was I out?”
“Three days.”
“What?” You looked at him in disbelief. There was no way you had slept three days. Of course, you were very much aware that your body had reached its limit while you were running away from a horde of angels, but maybe you hadn’t realized the extent of the damages to your body. But it wasn’t the only reason of your disbelief. Minho had taken care of Hana for three days and judging from their little exchange, you believed they had bonded.
You looked at Hana and finally noticed the changes in your baby. You had been out for three days and she already looked different. Older. Nobody would believe she was only days old.
Minho noticed the change in your mood and kneeled before you, Hana still holding his fingers. “She looks more and more like you.” And he wasn’t lie. He had three days to observe, to witness firsthand the changes. Her eyes, her nose, her lips, it was all you and Minho truly believed that she would look even more like you once older.
“She’s growing so fast.” You whispered, terrified of what it meant. “How-“
With his free hand, Minho put his hand on your knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. A simple gesture that set your body on fire. His touch was so familiar, your body reacted on its own, without you being able to control it.
“I promise you, it will slow down.” He tried to reassure you. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Hana who smiled at him. “I-“ He hesitated and couldn’t believe he was about to say it. For the past three days, he thought about what he was supposed to do with you and Hana. The reasonable thing would be to let you leave once you recovered but his heart was begging him to do something else. Something unfathomable. “Stay with me.”
Your eyes widened in shock, so shocked your body shook. “You can’t be serious.” It was what you wanted, of course, what you hoped for but hearing him say the words took you completely off guard. How could he let you stay after you broke his heart? How could he let you stay when you cursed him for what he was and yet had a child with an angel?
“Trust me, I am.” Minho sighed as he got back on his feet.
“Minho.” You didn’t know what to say. Of course, you were overwhelmed; his presence, his gentleness with your baby, him being too understanding. You didn’t deserve any of that, you knew it and so did he. Before your mind could spiral even more, Hana giggled and clapped her hands as if she understood the meaning behind Minho’s words. The two of you looked at her, you amazed and Minho with a soft smile.
“See. She agrees.”
Even after three years of not visiting Minho’s place, everything stayed the same. The same minty and wooden scent all around the place. Same furniture. Same decoration. But what amazed you the most, and tug at your heart, was the fact that he kept the traces of you. Your little presents, the pictures, he kept it all. Minho was just too good. He could have erased all memories, or traces of you but he had a gentle soul. If demons had one.
You stared for a moment at a picture. The two of you smiling happily together with the beach on the background. You remembered this day vividly, even now. You had begged Minho to come with you to the beach. You were stubborn but so was he, except that you had an advantage, a joker to use against him: he was weak for your puppy-eyes game. He had stayed out of water for the biggest part of the day, but it was enough for you.
You traced the frame with your finger and smiled at the memory. You had pushed him a lot that day which ended with Minho throwing you right into the sea, laughing evilly at you.
You missed the old days.
With a heavy heart, you averted your eyes from the happy picture and resumed your walking. You woke up with an idea on mind: make breakfast for the three of you. There wasn’t much you could do to show your gratitude but cooking was a good start.
Easily, you found everything you needed in his kitchen. You hummed to yourself and started cutting the vegetables. One thing, you and Minho shared was that you both loved salty and sweet breakfast.
“You look better.” Minho’s rough, still sleepy voice interrupted you.
You halted and slowly raised your head to look at him. He rubbed his eyes and then stared back.
It shouldn’t be allowed to look this good, you told yourself but quickly shook this thought off your mind. It wasn’t right for you to admire him.
“Hana?”
“Still sleeping. I think she likes the bed you brought her.” The moment Minho had decided that the two of you should stay with him, for safety, he made some changes to your room. Even if, you didn’t mind sleeping with Hana beside you, he put a nice cradle in your room. The cradle wasn’t the only addition to your room. Shelves filled with plushies and nice accessories were added. He wanted the two of you to feel at ease, at home. It reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place. Despite his cold demeanor, he was the sweetest and gentlest lover. He cared deeply. Even now.
“Good.” He walked behind you, arm brushing yours – it sent shivers down your spine. You cursed your body once more for being so easily affected, for longing for him, for anything. “Let me help you.”
Minho took a look at the ingredients you displayed on the table and quickly understood what you had on mind. “I’ll prepare the pancakes.”
So easily he saw through you. It was disarming, in a way. You cleared your throat and forced your eyes to keep their focus on the vegetables. “Thank you.”
But who in their right mind could concentrate? You couldn’t. You kept glancing as discretely as possible at him. You didn’t know how he managed to stay so composed, so focused on his tasks while you couldn’t. Your heart was beating loud against your ribs, too loud for your liking. What if demons had enhanced hearing? You didn’t need him to find out how you truly felt about his presence.
But maybe you should have been paying more attention to your work instead of focusing so much on your thoughts and on him. One moment of inattention and you cut your finger.
“Fuck!” You cursed and held your finger. Fortunately for you, the cut wasn’t too deep but deep enough for your finger to bleed. Quickly, you got to the sink and let the cold water wash your cut.
“Let me see.” Minho told you as he gently grabbed your hand and inspected it.
Your breath hitched in your throat as you were unable to avert your eyes from his face. He was so concentrated on your cut, frowning at it. “It’s not that bad.” It really wasn’t. But then, Minho brought your finger to his lips, his eyes on you. “What are you-“ But you never managed to finish; Minho parted his lips and brought your finger to his mouth.
“Minho!” You gasped and tried to pull away from his grip, but he didn’t budge. At all. Instead, you felt his tongue swirled around your finger. Your face heated up with embarrassment, your heart on the brink of explosion. You were in so much trouble.
Satisfied with your reaction, Minho let go of your hand, his eyes never leaving your face. He licked his lips and smirked. “Now, better?”
The cut had simply vanished. You blinked in confusion as you inspected your finger. You came to realize that there was so much you had to learn about demons and their powers. “Was it really necessary?” You tried to hide your embarrassment but your face was too red.
“No. But watching you squirm was priceless.” He admitted, smugly.
“Dick.”
Minho had always been a light sleeper, always on alert; call it years of war between angels and demons, attacks were frequent, danger everywhere, he had to adapt. The moment he heard Hana’s first, tiny sob, he was already out of bed and on his way to your room. He didn’t need to, obviously, you were sleeping in the same room as Hana but his body, possessed clearly, moved on its own. Before she could even start fully crying, she was already in his arms.
“Sshhh pretty. Let’s not wake your mommy, hmm?” Minho whispered as he rocked her, slowly moving in your room.
“Minho?” You called, voice weak, eyes barely opened. You tried to rub the sleepiness from your eyes with no success.
He looked at you, his lips stretched into a small smile. “Go back to sleep.”
Barely realizing what was going on, you did exactly what he said. You lay down, closed your eyes and let his pretty voice lull you back to sleep.
“Better.” Minho averted his attention to Hana and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. She giggled in return, happy with the outcome.
You woke up to the gentle chirp of birds. Your window was opened, not that you remembered opening it last night, but for once you didn’t panic. You also didn’t panic not to find Hana in her cradle. Instead, your chest warmed at the thought of Hana being again with Minho. When you first decided to come to him, you never expected to stay and you certainly didn’t expect him to grow so fond of her. It was a miracle. A miracle, you welcomed with opened arms and a little regret. If only you didn’t act so childish back then. If only you had listened to your heart, then maybe, the situation would have been different for the better. Of course, you didn’t regret having Hana, she was your precious treasure, your blood and flesh and you would risk everything for her, even your life. But maybe, it could have been different. Maybe, if you had stayed, she would have been his.
“Stop it.” You scolded yourself. Regrets were useless right now.
You climbed off the bed. One look at the window and you guessed it was already late and way past breakfast time. You grabbed the closest piece of cloth; a simple grey hoodie that Minho had left for you. As you put it on, you got overwhelmed with the familiar and comforting scent. His scent. You pushed the collar closer to your nose and with closed eyes you inhaled his scent. Memories flooded your mind. Memories of sweet kisses, of heated touches, of lovely words, of safety. You missed those times.
On tiptoes, you left your room. Minho’s house was calm, too calm for a place where now lived a baby. You expected to find them easily but no, no sign of Minho and Hana in the living room. You glanced over your shoulder, at Minho’s bedroom door. You hesitated. Were you really ready to go back to this familiar room? A place you had stayed for hours, lying in bed, most of the time naked, under him, on top of him, in the safety of his arms.
You closed your eyes as a particular good memory flashed through your mind.
Flashback
It was way past your bedtime and Minho knew he shouldn’t keep you awake any longer if he wanted you to rest and look good on your first day of work. But Minho had a tendency to be selfish. He wanted to talk more, to touch you more, to feel more of you. Who could blame he when you looked so sweet against him? He had one hand in the air and you didn’t hold back from touching him. Feather like touches, you traced the shape of his fingers, of every vein.
“I love your hands.” You whispered, captivated.
Minho chuckled in response, his chuckle vibrating against your cheek. “I wonder why.”
You rolled your eyes at his remark. So typical of him. Instead you feigned innocence. “What? They’re pretty.” They truly were and he certainly knew how to use them to make you lose your mind.
“What else?” His voice got darker; it should have been your clue not to push if you wanted to sleep but you couldn’t resist.
“I lose my sanity whenever I see your pretty hands.” You admitted. How many times you found yourself staring at his hands? How many times, he caught you red handed, imagining all the things he could do with those pretty hands?
Minho’s smirk grew wider at your confession. He rolled right on top of you and admired your body under him. You were just so damn beautiful. The most beautiful person in the world. With your wild hair splayed all across the pillow, with your pink swollen lips, with your pretty neck covered in marks.
“And what do you imagine?” His hand found your throat only to slid down slowly from there to your collarbone, to between your breasts. He watched every breath you took, every raise of your chest, every bite on your lips. “Do you imagine how good it feels?” And they slid further down, to your stomach, feather life touches that set your body on fire, pushing yourself more against him, to feel more of him - he smirked, satisfied.
“Or do you imagine how good my fingers feel inside you?” He asked as he brushed your clit playfully.
“Shit.” You mewled. How did he always manage to get you so needy? Always ready to beg him to play with you, to take you. You just couldn’t say no. And you didn’t want to either.
“Is it what you want, love?” He teased your entrance by pushing a finger inside and retreating right after, making you whimper in despair and need.
“Yes. Shit, baby, please, I need you so badly.” You pleaded and pushed your hips, hoping to get more.
Minho tsked and shook his head. “Such a greedy baby. I thought you told me you had enough for tonight?” And he teased again, watching with awe and love as you let out low whimpers.
“I can’t get enough of you.” You were ready to say anything to please him and get what you needed. But it wasn’t a lie. No matter how many times Minho touched you, ruined you, you were always left begging for more. You just couldn’t get enough. You were addicted and he was the best drug you could have asked for.
“Is that so?” He hummed, satisfied with your answer. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against yours. “Always so good for me, kitten.” His lips trailed from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, leaving in his trail tiny bites as he pushed a finger inside you. “I believe you deserve a reward.”
You let out a sob of relief as he added another finger, stretching you in a delicious way. But the moment he latched his lips around your nipple, was truly the moment you lost it. You arched your back, pushing your chest further. You plunged your fingers into his hair, tugging at the locks, feeling his deep groan against your skin - a sexy groan that made you clench around his fingers.
For once, Minho didn’t try to control you; he let you rock your hips as you needed to feel his fingers deeper inside you. He let you touch him however you wanted, enjoying every tug on his hair, every little scratch you made - he took everything.
“Is it what you had imagined?” He asked as he curled his fingers inside you making it impossible for you to speak, a loud moan escaping your pretty lips instead. Minho smiled proudly, feeling that you were close. “Come for me, love. Show me how happy your greedy pussy is.”
And you gladly did.
Back to present.
Your face heated at the memory alone. It happened long ago and yet your body remembered everything; every touch, every kiss, every mark Minho left.
“Get a grip!” You scolded yourself and slapped your cheeks for good measure. You couldn’t have this thoughts, not now and especially not when you were heading for his room.
Despite being more than familiar and comfortable with his place, you knocked at the door – no response. Without making any noise, you pushed the door to his room. The room was plunged into full darkness, except for his bedside lamp that was on, the light illuminating the bed and Minho. Minho who was soundly asleep, Hana sleeping on his chest with Minho’s arm around her. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Every time you witnessed some interaction between your little girl and Minho, your heart almost broke with joy.
“Aren’t you guys super cute.” You whispered to yourself, your hand pressed to your chest as if you could save your little heart from the lovely sight. You wished you had your phone with you so you could take a picture of this moment and maybe so you could tease Minho about being completely in love with Hana.
You smiled to yourself and let them sleep some more.
In a matter of few days, Minho came to realization that your presence along with Hana’s at his place was more than welcomed and felt absolutely natural. He never thought he would need something like that. He never thought he needed a family. For a demon, to wish for a family it was unheard of. It was too human, too pathetic and yet, he could now understand this very unfamiliar feeling.
More he spent time with Hana and more he grew fond of her. Every time he held her in his arms, he couldn’t help but wish for her to be his. Every time she held his hand, he wished he could protect her forever. Every little smile, every little giggle, became his most favorite thing in the world. And you. You, no matter how much he wished he could make you pay for the pain you put him through, he couldn’t find it in him. Every time he looked at your face, his heart ached with longing. Every time he found himself in your presence, your sweet, captivating scent brought back unwanted memories, unwanted needs. He couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted to hold you in his arms, that he wanted to feel your touch, your kisses.
Before he could get any more lost in his thoughts, Hana, playfully, slapped his cheeks. Once, twice, until he blinked and looked at her and quirked a brow. This girl was too fearless. If only she realized that she was playing with a powerful demon (and even then, he was convinced she would still not care).
“Aren’t you being a little bold today, hm?” He joked and pretended to bite her nose – Hana giggled loudly in response which made his eyes to go soft. Yes, she had him, completely, wrapped around her finger.
“Darling, I’m home!” Jisung appeared out of thin air, right in the middle of the room, just like he always did. He threw himself on the couch, too happy to annoy his friend and completely unaware of two new presences in the house. “Missed me?”
Minho should have known that eventually Jisung would pay him a visit at the most unexpected time. He should have warded his place against everybody to keep his little secret a little longer. But now it was too late; Jisung blinked in confusion as he spotted Hana in his arms.
“Holy shit!” Jisung screamed so loud Hana winced and pressed herself harder against Minho. “No, it can’t be. Is it a baby in your arms?” He shifted on the couch, leaning to get a better look at her and then at him.
“Language.” Minho scolded him. “What does she look like? Of course it’s a baby.”
Jisung couldn’t believe his eyes as he gawked at the two of them for a moment, trying to figure out why a baby was in his house. Why, a demon such as Minho, would even be with a baby. But then and because of his attention on her, Hana tried to hide in Minho’s arms and Jisung thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Minho, the big, bad demon, was babysitting. He burst into laughter, holding his stomach. “The guys will never believe me when I’m gonna tell them about you and the baby.”
The urge to kick Jisung’s ass was strong and for Hana’s sake, Minho had to resist it. Instead, he rolled his eyes at his friend and averted his eyes to you, coming out of the kitchen, the apron still around your body. The simple sight of you lessened his annoyance and the sight of your soft smile melted his heart.
“Guess I was right cooking more than necessary.” You commented as you looked at a very confused Jisung. He hadn’t changed at all, still the same loud boy who adored Minho. Not that you could blame him for it. “Hi Jisung.”
“What?!” Jisung jolted at the sound of your voice that he instantly recognized. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe you were back, looking so comfortable and homy. It didn’t sit right with him. Jisung was never the type to hold back and he was ready to share a piece of his mind but he halted. He looked at you, then slowly looked at Hana, noticing the similarities between the two of you. Then, and even slower, his gaze slid to Minho.
“How? What? When?” Jisung didn’t want to jump to conclusion, but what was he supposed to think when the ex-girlfriend of his best friend suddenly showed up? How was he supposed to react seeing his friend, so comfortable (and a tad overprotective) with a baby who was clearly yours?
You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction – Minho gave you the stinky eye in return.
“She’s not mine.” Minho declared to put end to Jisung’s misery and inner turmoil.
Jisung pointed an accusing finger at Minho, scowling. “If she’s not yours, why the hell are you glued to her as if she was yours?”
And just like that, the urge to kick his ass was back. Minho got back on his feet, still holding Hana, as he walked towards you to hand her. You gladly took her in your arms. He lingered, his eyes on Hana and gently patted her head before briefly looking at you.
“See. This is exactly why I’m not believing you when you say she’s not yours.” Jisung commented, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at you.
You couldn’t blame Jisung for thinking this way; Minho was truly sweet and protective over Hana as if she was his own. If only.
Minho sighed and turned to face his friend. “Can’t you tell what she is?”
Jisung tilted his head to the side and truly looked at Hana. It didn’t take long for his eyes to widen in shock as realization dawned on him. He opened his mouth and closed it then looked at you. “What the hell?!”
“Language.” Minho repeated himself.
“Minho.” Jisung inhaled sharply, bracing himself. “Why the-why is Y/N here with a baby?” Then his gaze slid to you, frowning and not hiding his dislike. His eyes turned purple, revealing what was hiding beneath this pretty, cute face. You should have known that he was just like Minho and yet it took you by surprise.
“Jisung.” Minho warned him, standing now right before you, shielding you from him. “Don’t even think about it.”
Jisung snarled in response. He didn’t look so cute and harmless anymore. Far from it. He took a step towards you. “She left you for a fu-freaking angel, got a baby and now she’s crawling back to you? Did I miss anything?”
“I didn’t leave him for an angel.” You fought back. You understood his anger; he had all the rights in the world to be angry with you but he didn’t have the right to twist your story.
“And yet here you are with this thi-“ Jisung never managed to finish his sentence. Whatever he was about to say turned into a shriek as he found himself thrown against a wall with so much strength it left a crack in the wall.
You blinked in confusion before slowly looking down at your little girl. Hana had her arm outstretched and looked upset, her eyes glowing. So small, so young and yet she already showed so much strength; you couldn’t imagine how stronger she could get.
If you were both impressed and scared with Hana’s display of power, Minho simply chuckled and ruffled Hana’s hair before walking to his friend.
“Guess she doesn’t like you.” Minho commented, smirking at Jisung. He grabbed his arm and helped him back on his feet. “Better watch out or she might throw you through the window next time.”
Jisung whined in response but didn’t comment, still stunned with the outcome.
“So. Let me make sure I understood everything. You met an angel without knowing he was one - I still don’t know how you didn’t notice, they’re just bunch of assholes.” That earned him a slap on the back of his head from Minho and a roll of eyes from you. “Whatever. Anyway. He got you pregnant and once you found out what he was you run away. Sounds familiar.”
You took the blow without a word. But Minho thought differently. He kicked Jisung under the table.
“Don’t be an asshole.” Minho scolded him.
“Language.” You scolded him in return, even if Hana was asleep in your arms. “I ran away because he wanted to take her away from me.”
Jisung thought about it for a moment. He looked at Hana then back at you and nodded. “No wonder they want her. They will come for her.” Jisung was scared to ask what the plan was. More he looked at his friend, at his odd behavior and more it worried Jisung. He didn’t hate you, he hated your choice but he also knew you were good for Minho. But you being back with something their enemies wanted badly, was trouble they should avoid. “What’s the plan?”
“She’s staying with me.” Minho answered without hesitation.
“Are you mad? She can’t!” Jisung jumped from his place and slammed his hands on the table. “You know they will fight to get her back.”
“Let them fight. I don’t care.” Minho shrugged. He looked nonchalant about the whole mess and yet you saw through him. He was slowly losing patience.
“I care!” Jisung insisted. “We’ve been at peace with them for centuries! You can’t throw away the peace just for her!”
Instead of answering, Minho looked at Jisung right into his eyes. He was cold, indifferent and yet his eyes were burning with rage. “Let them come. I dare them to take Y/N and Hana from me.”
“Is there really a truce between demons and angels?” You asked as you sat beside Minho on the bench outside his house. The weather was lovely, but it looked too calm for your liking. Especially after the talk with Jisung. Despite Minho’s reassuring words, you couldn’t stop worrying. At any moment angels could appear, provoke a fight in order to get Hana back. And what could you do to stop it? Nothing.
Minho didn’t want to talk about it. Not because it was a forbidden subject but because he had a feeling you would try to leave the moment you found out how bad it could get because of his decision.
“You’re worried because of what Jisung said.” He said instead and observed you. You were avoiding his eyes; your gaze glued to your hands as you kept playing with your fingers, nervous.
“And you’re avoiding my question.”
Minho sighed in defeat. “So stubborn.” Nevertheless, a smile tugged at his lips.
“Minho.”
“Fine. Yes, there is a truce.”
Your heart leapt in your throat at his admission. “I can’t stay here. You had enough shit to deal with.” You stood up from your seat only for Minho to grab your hand and pull you back.
“Don’t even think about it.” He growled dangerously at you. The mention of the truce was enough to turn his mood sour but the mention of you leaving was even worse.
One glance from him should have silenced you but your fears were stronger than his menacing glare.
“You know I can’t stay!” You protested, body fully turned to him. “I brought my problems to your doorstep because I knew the only place I could be safe would be with you. But I didn’t know the consequences. I can’t let you risk all for me.”
“Shut up.” Minho snapped, his eyes turning red. Minho was pissed, alright. He tried desperately to keep his temper in check but your words and the simple mention of you leaving pushed him to the edge.
“Min-“
“You made your choice three years ago. Let me make mine today.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. The moment he opened his eyes, they were back to their normal color. All trace of anger vanished just like that and was replaced with softness and sorrow. “It’s unfair how much hold you have over me, Y/N. It’s dangerous for so many reasons, but it seems that I just don’t care. You could stamp on my heart again and I’ll let you.”
Once more, he took your hand and squeezed gently. His hand was warm and soft and so comforting you almost wept. “I wish I could hate you.”
“But you don’t.”
“No I don’t.”
Living with Minho was everything you had imagined it would be and more. Easy, comfortable, filled with banters and sweet moment that usually involved him and Hana. You easily found the right rhythm that suited the two of you. Whenever he had to leave, he always made sure that someone he trusted stayed behind. Sometimes it was Jisung, sometimes it was another of his friends. All of them were wary of Hana at first and of you of course, but one big smile from Hana and they melted. Especially Jisung.
Just like that six months passed. Hana’s power grew stronger every day; throwing people against walls was the least of your concern. Whenever she threw a tantrum the whole place would shake and things would fly around. If at first it scared you because you had absolutely no clue how to deal with such incredible and powerful baby, you got used to it. Minho happened to be a great help with it too. A flash of his bright red eyes and Hana would always calm down. Sometimes later, you believed, she would go against him but for now it did the trick.
Hana’s powers weren’t the only thing that grew. She did too. Despite being only six months old, she looked much older. And she could talk which made things much easier and your life livelier.
Your life turned out as normal as it could get with a half angel baby and a life with a demon, but there was still one thing that bothered you. The lack of activities from angels. Minho barely talked about it, telling you every single time not to worry, that he would deal with it when times come but it made you wonder. Did he talk to them? Did he persuade them to give up? You gathered from the few conversations with Jisung that Minho was someone angels avoided and would not mess up with unless necessary. It made you wonder just how strong Minho was.
“A problem for another day.” You told yourself as you took a deep breath.
You put the different snacks on the plate and headed outside to join both Minho and Hana. The weather was lovely and perfect, not too hot and not too cold, just what you needed to enjoy a little afternoon all together. A big blanket was splayed on the ground, Minho laying on it with Hana sitting on his chest and clapping her hands.
Despite living under the same roof, you didn’t witness many times his display of power. Today however he was using it freely for Hana’s pure enjoyment. Butterflies formed from shadows flied all around them, all around Hana, playing with her hair. It was a pretty sight and you enjoyed it almost as much as Hana did.
“I think it’s the first time I’m seeing you use your powers.” You admitted as you put the plate beside them but still far enough to avoid any accident. Just as you said those words, a butterfly landed on the tip of your nose, tickling you softly.
Minho looked at you, smiling so fondly, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t tell whether it was because of Hana or because of the two of you but you appreciated the moment all the same. His smile was contagious as you leaned to plant a kiss on Hana’s cheek.
“He made so many butterflies! Just for me!” Hana explained to you, voice filled with excitement and cheerfulness as she spread her arms widely for butterflies to land on her.
“Just for you.” Minho confirmed. Then, with a flick of his hand a shadow formed around you, circling you before taking form. “And this one for you.” A black cat made of shadows.
Hana applauded louder than ever and tried to reach for it– she failed and fell beside Minho. The two of you stared at her, trying desperately to stifle the laugh. Minho being the strongest managed, you, not so much. Hana raised her head and glared at you; her glare reminding you awfully of Minho.
“This is so you.” You pointed at her scowl before looking at him. “She’s imitating you.”
“She’s learning from the best.” He said proudly.
You rolled your eyes at him and chose not to respond. Instead, your attention was on the cat that kept turning around you, brushing your knees every now and then. You reached out to pet it and immediately the cat came to bump its head against your hand. Despite it being made of shadows, it felt warm against the palm of your hand. Warm and familiar – like Minho which you supposed made sense, it was his power, a part of him.
“Just wait when Jisung hears about it.” You teased knowing that Minho would rather die than show his soft side to his friend.
“Don’t you dare.” He warned you sounding threatening if not for his eyes twinkling with mischief.
You were tempting the devil, you knew it and didn’t care. “Or what?”
Minho quirked a brow at your provocation. “Do you really want to find out?”
You grabbed a grape and shoved in your mouth to hide your smile, to hide how this little game was truly affecting you – Minho saw it anyway. “Someone is playing with fire.”
“Who?”
“How cute.”
Your blood froze in your veins. You knew this voice. The deceptive one. The one that made you believe that you could love again. The one that managed to get through the walls you had built around yourself after the breakup. The one that seduced you. He was here. He had found them.
In the blink of an eye, Minho was on his feet, standing before you, fists clenched, eyes red. All trace of happiness, of genuine smiles vanished to replace with wrath and the urge to fight. To protect.
You hurried to scoop Hana in your arms as you stood behind Minho, watching five angels standing too close for your liking. They looked relaxed and satisfied. You bet they were. It took them six months to find you and finally they were so close to their goal.
“I’ve been wondering who managed to hide you so well.” Soobin said, unbothered, completely ignoring Minho’s presence. His eyes were on you and on Hana. “But to think you would hide with a demon. I’m both impressed and disgusted.”
Hana was shaking in your arms. Your grip around her tightened. Just like Minho, you were ready to fight if needed. There was no way you would give up your child, your happiness without a fight.
“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” And as he said those words, he took few steps towards you.
His mistake. Maybe he should have paid more attention to Minho. To what and who he was. The moment he took those steps, darkness erupted from everywhere. The beautiful blue sky turned black and so did your surroundings. It felt as if life itself was being sucked from everywhere. It was only then that Soobin’s attention shifted to Minho. His eyes widened in shock before his mouth set in a hard line.
“You.”
You stared at Minho’s back in disbelief and wonder at the same time. You thought you knew what he looked like as a demon, thought the only changes were his eyes. You were wrong. So terribly wrong. Because the man that stood protectively between you and the angels looked completely different. Strange and yet still so familiar.
Black marks covered his arms from his wrist to his shoulders and you suspected it went beyond. The tip of his fingers were black and with claws. Even his hair seemed a little longer. Shadows surrounded him, following his every gesture. He looked absolutely deadly and magnificent.
“Take my advice and leave.” Minho simply said. For the sake of his friends, Minho chose to use threats instead of fighting, no matter how much he wanted to kill them all. So what if some angels went missing from heaven? It wouldn’t be a big deal. Good riddance even.
“I can’t.” Soobin recovered quickly. While his friends were ready to fight, he hesitated. “I really don’t want to fight you. Nothing good will come out of it.”
Minho snorted at that. “Why? Scared that this time I will actually end your miserable existence?”
Minho’s remark made you snap from your observation. As you scrutinized the two men, you quickly realized that they shared a past. They knew each other and not only because they were sworn enemies. No. There was something else and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing.
“Mommy, is Minnie in trouble?” Hana whispered as she glanced at Minho. She outstretched her arm, wanting to reach for him but you stopped her by hugging her tighter against you.
Hana, despite her young age, recognized the danger when faced with it. You couldn’t lie and tell her that you weren’t in trouble, but Minho. Minho looked so composed, so confident, it made you wonder who would come out victorious if they fought.
“Don’t worry.” You whispered to her. “Minho is the strongest person I have ever met. If anything, they are in trouble, not him.” You kissed the crown of her head and prayed that it would be over soon.
“Do you think you can fight all of us?” Soobin dared him. Maybe a part of him truly believed that they stood a chance against Minho. Or maybe he bluffed.
“Want to find out?” There was at least one person who wasn’t bluffing and it was Minho.
He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second as his power spread. From the corner of your eyes you spotted movement; fast and lethal. The shadows took form, solidifying, turning into giant monsters that stood beside Minho, protecting him, waiting for his orders.
“She’s mine.” Minho growled. His growl loud, dangerous and filled with so much venom, goosebumps spread all over your skin in response. You didn’t fear Minho. You trusted him with all your being but it didn’t mean your body didn’t recognize the predator that stood before you. The incredibly beautiful predator.
“She’s mine.” He repeated and you swore you heard the monsters repeat his words.
And his words, his possessiveness echoed in your mind, in your heart. And you watched as this beautiful, dangerous man, despite everything, stood proudly before you. Watched him as he was ready to fight for the two of you, not only because he offered you a roof but because he truly cared for Hana. You heard it in his voice. You saw it every day; he truly loved Hana as his own.
Tears shimmered in your eyes as so many emotions raged inside you. Love, gratitude, pain, longing. All of it. You couldn’t stop yourself as his name escaped your lips. It was barely audible but he heard it anyway. He always did.
Minho glanced over his shoulder and your eyes locked for a moment. In this moment, there was so much you wanted to tell him. To tell him you were sorry, to tell him to be careful and that they couldn’t live without a world where he was not. And Minho being Minho understood it. He shook his head and winked playfully at you before returning his attention on the angels.
“Leave.” He said, “You interrupted our peaceful family moment.”
“You’re a fool, Minho.” Was the last thing Soobin said before vanishing along with his friends.
“So I’ve been told.”
The three of you stood in silence for a moment. You, still speechless; because of Minho’s true form and at the same time because he managed to make the angels flee. Minho, because he was still trying to sooth his anger.
“Minho.” You called for him.
Slowly, and after taking a deep breath, he turned to look at you, expecting to see fear and maybe disgust in your eyes. He saw none of it. Instead, he found you standing close to him, your hand outstretched for him to take.
“Let’s get back inside.” And you smiled.
“No! I don’t want to sleep!” Hana protested and kicked her blanket with as much strength as she could muster after a long and rather emotional day.
You frowned at her before looking at Minho in despair. You had tried everything to force her to sleep but nothing worked. It was one of those days.
“What if the bad guys come back?” She muttered as she pressed her teddy-bear closer to her heart. “What if they try to break us apart?”
“Oh baby.” You wrapped your arms around her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “They won’t come back.” At least you hoped so.
Minho joined you on the bed. He leaned closer to Hana and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “You don’t have to worry about the bad guys. I kicked their-“ He stopped himself on time, glanced guiltily at you, before adding, “I mean, we fought already once and they lost. I’ll fight them again and they will lose. Nobody will take you from me.”
“But what if they try to take mommy away?”
Her words hit deeper than you thought. Too scared to see Minho’s reaction, you kept your eyes on her, but your heart was beating fast and loud. Would he fight for you? You didn’t know and were scared to find out.
“Not going to happen.” Minho confirmed and ruffled her hair fondly. “You have nothing to worry about. So sleep or else we’re not getting your favorite cake tomorrow.”
You looked at him, eyes boring into him at his admission. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but his words soothed your fears, more than you were willing to admit.
Once sure Hana was asleep, the two of you left the room. You wanted to talk some more with Minho, to discuss the incident with the angels but it seemed like Minho was either avoiding you or simply had enough for one night.
“You should go back and sleep.” He advised you without looking at you. “Good night, Y/N.”
The wise thing would definitely be to go back to your room and sleep but you were known for not being very wise. He should have known. Without making any sound, you followed him and you bet he knew it.
Minho went back outside, his shadows following him. It made you stop and observe. It fascinated you how they were simply part of him, always following him, protecting him. They spread behind, almost reaching you and halted as if hesitating to touch you.
“You have a mind of your own?” You felt silly for talking to a shadow but it reacted. It moved again and wrapped around your ankle. You expected to shiver, you expected it to be cold but it wasn’t. It was a warm caress. Just like Minho.
You followed Minho outside and the shadow followed your every step, maybe because it was fun or maybe because it appreciated your company.
Minho’s power spread around the house and marks appeared in the air. You didn’t recognize any of them, not even from your time with Amy, but you easily guessed it was in order to protect the place.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He asked
“I got distracted.” You admitted
“With what?”
“You.”
Minho chuckled in response, half amused, half surprised with your admission. With his hands tucked in his pockets, he approached you, smirking devilishly at you. And you? You gulped, nervously. To save yourself from this beautiful creature, you averted your eyes from his face.
But Minho was in a rather playful mood. “And how exactly am I distracting you?” A finger under your chin, he tilted your head to make you look at him.
It was pure torture to be so close to him and yet not being able to fully touch him. It was torture to have him watch you so closely – you bit your lips and his eyes followed the gesture.
“Be careful. I might bite.”
Minho thought that nothing could terrify him in this world. He was once more wrong. After the recent events, he came to realize that the idea of losing Hana truly upset him. He couldn’t imagine a day without her. Not anymore. But it wasn’t the only thing that scared him. No. Hearing your screams shattered his heart in thousand pieces.
One scream from you and he was out of his bed and appeared in your room, ready to fight whoever managed to get through his wards. But there was nobody in your room. No signs of breaking. Nothing except for you fighting invisible enemies in your sleep.
“Y/N.” He called for you in hope to wake you from your nightmare.
But you didn’t wake up. Not even when he joined you and grabbed your arms, trying to stop you from hurting yourself. Not even when he took you in his arms and tried to reach your mind.
“Come on, love. Wake up.” He whispered to your ear and kissed your forehead. “You’re safe. Hana is safe. I’m here.”
Minho rocked you in his arms while, slowly, your body started to relax and you stopped fighting. He kept you in his arms and watched your every breath and listened to your heartbeat.
“Come back to me.”
And you did. As you opened your eyes, you were met with the familiar face and soft eyes. With familiar warmth spreading through you.
Minho smiled. “Hi. Bad dream?”
“Yeah. But now I think I’m dreaming again.” You managed to say. You didn’t know what shocked you more; your nightmare or the fact that Minho was in your bed, holding you.
Minho chuckled at your attempt at being funny. “Nope. Not a dream, I’m really here.” And to prove his point, his hold around you tightened. “Make room, I don’t think I can go back to my room now.”
“Who say I want you in my bed?” You obviously wanted him in your bed. Not only because you were scared of having another nightmare, but also because his presence alone was everything you needed. You wanted him close to you, you wanted him to keep holding you.
Minho rolled his eyes and pushed you playfully to make room for himself. He thought he was being polite by asking, but really, his decision was made the moment he got inside your room.
“What a gentleman.” You commented but gladly lifted the blanket for him to settle under.
“A trait of my personality that you used to love.”
“Still do.” You hadn’t meant to speak aloud but the words left your mouth anyway. You froze beside him and then cleared your throat. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t fret.” Minho pulled you back against him as if it was the most natural thing to do. And it used to and it still felt the same. Good. Right. “Was your nightmare about angels?”
You shut your eyes and tried not to think about it, but the image was still fresh in your mind. “Yes. They were trying to take her away from me.”
“You know that I was sincere when I told Hana that I won’t let them take you away right?” But despite the sincerity in his voice, you didn’t look at him. You didn’t want him to see the tears in the corner of your eyes. Minho gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “You do know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, right? Nothing I can deny you.”
“I let you out of my sight once. I’m not doing it again.”
After that night, something had changed between you and Minho. Maybe it was because of the attack and fear of another one. You weren’t stupid; it couldn’t be just that easy. One threat from Minho and they left you alone – it didn’t make sense. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the angels and more to do with the late confession.
From the moment you had left Minho, you knew, deep inside you, that it was the biggest mistake of your life. Yes, you were allowed to be scared, to feel insecure and doubt but it was Minho. You should have listened to the little voice – the one that whispered late at night. The one who reminded you every good, magical moments you had spent in his company. The one who reminded you every time you tried to start anew that no matter how nice a man was; nobody could compare to him. Nobody could compare to how he made you feel. How deep was his love for you. You tried to reason yourself. You tried to bury your feelings, your love and your regret.
But look at you right now? You were back to the very same place you had run from. The irony wasn’t lost on you.
And yet, he still cared for you. He was stilling willing to fight for you, protect you from everything and from everyone. You didn’t want to hope, to expect anything more from him but could you really ignore this tiny part of you? You couldn’t. You couldn’t ignore the lingering eyes on you. You couldn’t ignore his little touches; simple brushes of arms that set your skin on fire. You couldn’t ignore the attention he gave you.
“Take a picture. It lasts longer.” Minho teased you. Without realizing it, you had been staring at him for too long, lost in your own little world.
Your face heat up; it was a tad embarrassing to be caught red-handed, especially because you would never hear the end of it. “Why would I when I see the real thing every day?” You managed to say with a huff and averted your eyes from his face.
Minho chuckled at your attempt to save your face but it was too late. He had seen it all and enjoyed every second of it. “Maybe so you can frame it and put it on your bedside table?” He closed his book, finding that teasing you was so much more interesting. He watched you like a hawk as he got closer to you – you took a step back.
“What were you thinking about while staring at me like that?” He grinned as he leaned closer, eyes never leaving yours. He enjoyed the effect he had on you; the flush on your face, your breathing and especially how loudly your heart beat.
You took another step back only to meet the wall. You were trapped and at his mercy. And whatever Minho wanted, he always had it. Including the truth out of you. “Like what?”
Minho’s grin turned into a full smirk. He leaned, a hand resting on the wall right beside your head. “Were you thinking about how handsome I am?” And he leaned even closer, mere inches between you. “Or were you thinking about something naughty? That wouldn’t surprise me.”
You gasped at his words. “Why would I?!” You tried pushing him away for the sake of your sanity. His closeness, even if much appreciated (if not too much), was driving you nuts. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think about anything else but his body so close to yours.
But your attempt was another failure. Minho didn’t budge, not even a little.
“So you were.” He teased, unable to stop himself.
“I was not!”
Minho’s lips were hovering over yours, leaving no space between your bodies. His warmth spread through your own body like fire. All you had to do was to tilt your head and you could kiss him. So damn tempting.
“Be honest with me, Y/N. Say what you want.”
And it would be so easy, wouldn’t it?
Not under Hana’s watch.
“Mommyyyyyyy!” Hana called while running in the room, so fast Minho had barely the time to put some space between you. “Look, look!”
You tried, you really did, but your dizziness prevented you from concentrating on anything other than the man beside you and the thought that you almost kissed. Almost.
“What is it?” Minho was the one to recover, fast, as always.
Hana showed him the palm of her hand, proudly. Tiny balls of light floated around her hand. Slowly at first and then it spread. The balls got bigger and slowly the shape changed and turned into butterflies, identical to the ones Minho had made for her, except they were made of lights and not shadows.
Minho whistled, impressed with how easily Hana managed to learn the trick. How easily she managed to learn to control her power. He crouched to be at her level and admired her work closer. Impressive indeed.
“Well done.” He ruffled her hair.
From the day you started living with Minho, and especially after the little visit from angels, there was one thing you didn’t think you would ever witness. A talk between Soobin and Minho.
You woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty and a little disoriented. You didn’t know what time it was except for the fact that it was still late considering the darkness you spotted from your window. Without making any noise, you hurried to get to the kitchen, wanting to go back as quick as possible to the warmth of your bed. But before you could walk back to your room, you noticed that the front door was opened. Not widely but enough to worry you. Your instinct told you to get to Minho, to warn him but your body moved on its own. You walked on tiptoes. Closer you got and louder the voices got from outside. Voices that you recognized easily. Voices that you didn’t expect to hear so soon together.
“I can’t believe you would go so far for a human.” Soobin admitted as he ruffled his hair in frustration. “You used to kill them on sight.”
You clasped your hand over your mouth to prevent any noises, to stop yourself from gasping out loud. Why the hell was Soobin here? And more importantly, why did he look so comfortable around Minho? It didn’t make much sense.
“Y/N is special.” Minho simply replied without elaborating.
Soobin paused to observe Minho. The demon he knew would have never praised a human, no matter how pretty the person was. “She’s human. A pretty one, yes, but still human.”
“One that bore your child. You can’t deny she’s special.” Minho reminded him. It hurt him to even mention the fact that Hana was his child, he wished he could forget this fact but he also needed Soobin to realize that you weren’t just any human. You were different.
“When you put it like that.” He sighed. “You know the child is special. I want her.” He winced when Minho’s eyes flashed red. A silent warning that Soobin took seriously as he raised his hands in defense. “Are you really going to start another war for them?”
Minho didn’t answer. He had the answer right on the tip of his tongue but his attention was somewhere else. On you. Despite your attempt at being discrete, he could feel you, too close to them for his liking. Soobin, on the other hand, was oblivious.
“But it’s not only about the child, is it?” Soobin realized in disbelief. “It’s about Y/N. Is she worth it?”
“To me? Yes.” Minho took a dangerous step towards him. Everything about him screamed danger. Just one wrong word and this almost friendly encounter would turn to a bloody one. “I don’t particularly like you, Soobin. But I don’t hate you. But should you come back with an army, I will fight you and I will end you for good, this time. I won’t let her go. Not her and not Hana.”
“Is it a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
Soobin shook his head. “You’re crazy.” Only then, he noticed you by the door. You couldn’t help yourself as you got closer, body shaking and teary eyes. His own eyes softened at your sight. He liked you, in his own odd way. Yes, you were a special human.
“And I must be crazy too.” Soobin sighed in defeat. “Take care of them. I can’t promise you that we won’t be back. But I’ll take in consideration your promise.” And with that he vanished into the darkness of the night.
“What a pain in the ass.” Minho groaned and turned to face you. He observed you for a moment, frowning at your state. “Why are you crying?”
Minho knew from the moment he felt your presence you would end up hearing them but he didn’t care. He had nothing to hide; not his business with angels and definitely not how he felt about you. It was about time he addressed the matter and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so.
“I-“ But no words left your mouth, too overwhelmed with your own feelings.
The corner of his mouth quirked up as he got closer to you. “Say it.” Minho knew you well enough to know what was going through your mind. He always could read you easily, then and now.
It frustrated you how easily his words unsettled you, how easily your heart answered his call. You didn’t want to hide how you felt, how badly you wanted to go back to what you were. But you didn’t deserve it. Not after hurting him over and over again.
“Y/N. Say it.” His voice was calm and gentle when really, inside he was dying to hear you say it. He wanted to hear your confession and ease his mind and heart.
“I don’t deserve you.” You finally managed to whisper through tears. “I can’t say it, Minho.”
He shook his head and gently cupped your face. “I still want to hear it.”
You looked at him, heart roaring in your ears. “I’m sorry.” There was so much you should apologize for, but your mind was a mess and you weren’t sure you could convey all your feelings. But you still were willing to try. For you, for Hana, for him. Especially for him. Because Minho deserved it. He was always there for you, then and now. He showered you with love then and he still did it today. He showered Hana with the same love when he could have hated her for what she was. But he didn’t.
“I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for being an idiot and getting scared. I should have listened to my heart. I should have known that despite being a demon, you were sincere, that you cared so much for me. I’m sorry for hurting you.”
Minho stroked your cheek with his thumb, gently wiping your tears. “When you showed up at my doorstep, I really wanted to slam the door to your face. Just the sight of you brought back unwanted feelings, unwanted needs. But I couldn’t do it. I saw how fragile you were and my heart refused to let go. Refused to let my bitterness stands between you and me.”
“I’m sorry.” You repeated. You bit on your lips to prevent another sob but your face told him everything he needed to know.
Minho leaned over and kissed your right eye, tasting your tears, and then the left one. “I never stopped loving you. Not even when you broke my heart.” He kissed your nose, your cheeks, making you tremble even more. “I’m not letting you go again and if it means I have to start another war then so be it.”
“You’re cra-zy.” You managed to say through a hiccup.
“Can you blame me?”
You couldn’t.
Satisfied with your reaction, Minho kissed the only part of your face he hadn’t touched, the only part he desperately wanted to touch. At first, it was a simple brush of his lips, light and hesitant. Maybe he was giving you one last chance to pull back, to escape – as if you would. Never again. Minho’s hold on your face tightened as he pressed his lips a little stronger, unable to hold back any longer. And he didn’t need to; you wrapped your arms around his, tightly as if your life depended on him. And you kissed him back with the same enthusiasm, with the same need and despair.
“I love you.” He whispered against your lips. “Don’t ever leave me again, Y/N.”
The simple mention of leaving brought back tears to your eyes. You clung to him as strongly as you could, shutting his mouth with yours. In that moment you realized that you would rather die than leave him again.
“Never again.” You promised
Minho scooped you in his arms. A peck on your lips followed by a smile so bright you weren’t sure you had ever seen it on his face.
He carried you back inside the house and straight to his room. Minho dropped you on his bed. He stood by his bed for a moment, admiring the sight of you in his bed, admiring your parted lips, admiring the look in your eyes. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. And there was so much he wanted to do to you. He wanted to taste you, to claim you and make sure that nobody would ever touch you. He wanted to make you scream and make you remember who you belonged to.
“Are you sure about it?” He asked one last time for good measure.
You smiled at his attempt, at his gentleness. You spread your arms widely. “Come and claim me.”
Minho closed his eyes and took a short moment to calm himself, to let your words sink in. You were his. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Despite knowing his body for years, you couldn’t help but suck in your breath in amazement, in need. He was so helplessly perfect. Strong, lean body that you were dying to touch again, to feel the smoothness of his skin against you.
“You’re drooling.” Minho teased, yet incredibly satisfied with your reaction.
“Can’t be helped when you look this good.” You didn’t try to deny, there was no point when your body was reacting so strongly to his presence.
Minho’s hands found their way to your ankles, softly massaging them making you moan in response at his gentle touch. Slowly, his hands travelled from your ankles to your calves, to your knees, setting your body on fire. You were burning with need and longing.
He grabbed your shorts and pulled them just as slowly from you. He knew that you were desperately needing more and so did he, but where would be the fun if he gave everything to you right away? It all came apart the moment he realized you weren’t wearing any panties; the scent of your arousal hit his senses. He let out an animalistic growl. This same fucking sweet scent that used to drive him crazy.
Growing just as impatient, you took off your shirt and threw it somewhere on the floor, eyes never leaving Minho. Your heart was roaring; your body was burning. “Touch me.”.
In response, Minho leaned over you and claimed your lips in a heated kiss. His hands were roaming freely all over your body, touching, groping, fondling. “So fucking beautiful.” He dragged your lower lip playfully with his teeth. His lips trailed from your lips down to your neck, leaving bright marks. He marked every inch of your skin; your neck, your chest, your stomach.
“Can’t believe you’re a mom.” He planted kisses all over your stomach, worshipped every tiny scars, marks that were left on your body. “And such a good mom.”
The moment his lips connected with your clit, all air left your lungs; your body jerked in response. Minho feasted on you, savoring the sweet taste of you, the one he had missed for so long. The stroke of his tongue were determined, determined to make you scream, to make you come apart with just his tongue.
“Minho,” You moaned as your head fell back. Your body responded to his touches so easily, so eagerly. There was no stopping. You couldn’t ignore how loud your heart beat. You couldn’t ignore how wetter and how your body tingled with every flick of his tongue. But you needed more. You rocked your hips against his tongue, seeking to feel more, to feel him deeper.
“I want to spend the whole night buried between your legs.” Minho confessed and glanced at you from between your legs. The sight of his mouth covered with your wetness made you clench around nothing. He looked absolutely sinful and gorgeous.
“Minho, please.” You begged, your body aching with need of release.
“What is it?” He teased and gave a harsh suck. “Use your words.”
As if you could when he was devouring you like this. He knew it and still teased.
“Please, I’m so close.” You mewled and pushed your hips closer. “Please.”
“How can I say no when you beg so prettily?” He kept licking and sucking with even more eagerness, more strength. His grip on your ass tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he ravaged you.
“Minho!” You cried out as a wave of orgasm hit you.
He could have stop, could have let you a moment to recover but Minho was insatiable. He wanted and needed more; more of you, more of your taste, even if it meant to drive you crazy. So he kept feasting on you. He didn’t stop. Not when your body trembled under his assault. Not when you grabbed his hair and pulled, softly at first and stronger as your sensitive body was torn between the wish to pull away from him and let him end you right on the spot. He didn’t stop when a second orgasm hit you, even stronger than the first. He didn’t stop even when a third one hit you, so powerful you screamed his name.
“Please, I can’t.” You begged, tears streaming down your face, half delirious. Your whole body was so sensitive; you couldn’t bear it.
Minho smirked at you, pleased with his work, pleased with the way you looked; lips swollen, body covered with his marks and pussy wet and ready to take him. He quickly disregarded his last piece of clothes before going back to you, his hands sliding up and down your legs – you shook under the touch, still sensitive.
“Guess you forgot what it’s like to be overstimulated.” He mocked, “I bet it was boring with the angel.”
Even in your dizziness you understood his words, his innuendo. If you had any strength left, you would have scoffed at his words, instead you nudged him with your leg. A weak attempt at showing your annoyance.
“Should I remind you what you really like? Hm?” He challenged you. “Should I remind your pussy that it was made for me? Only me?”
“Stop talking and just show me.” You provoked him, knowing too well that he would make you pay and that it would leave you shattered and unable to walk for the next five business day. Exactly what you needed.
“So bold.” But he loved it. With ease he flipped you over. His hands found their rightful place on your ass. Such a beautiful one that used to be red with his handprints. He caressed your ass, lovingly, slowly and then gave it a strong first slap followed by another and another. Your body jerked as you moaned.
“Much better.” Minho gently rubbed your now bright red skin. “You look pretty with your ass all red.”
“Minho, I need you inside, right now.” You half begged half ordered. Despite his grip on your hips, you pushed your hips against him, needing to feel him.
“So impatient.” He shook his head. He took his hard, angry cock and brushed the tip against your folds – you whimpered.
“Please,” You begged, “I need you so badly.”
With one thrust, Minho buried himself deep inside you, welcoming your warmth. “Fuck, love, you feel so good.” He stilled, savoring your tightness – his cock twitched inside of you. “Since you begging me, you’re going to take everything I give you like a good girl right?”
“I will.” You promised as you gripped the sheets beneath you tightly, bracing yourself for the storm to come. You knew Minho was no longer able to control himself, to hold back, even if he tried. He was at his limits and you were more than ready for him to snap.
And he did. From the very beginning, he set a strong and fast rhythm, pounding into you mercilessly and you took it like a good girl. You accepted every thrust, his strong grip on your hips that would leave another set of bruises – and you didn’t care. With every powerful thrust, your eyes rolled back in your head.
“So fucking good.” Minho groaned and slammed his hips. “Taking me like a good little slut. I told you, this pussy was made for me.”
“Just for you.” You chocked. “I-m,I’m close.”
“But do you deserve to come?” He wondered.
Minho let go of your hips and you fell face on the bed, unable to hold on your own. It didn’t last; Minho grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled you against him. You arched your back, exposing your delicate neck.
“Tell me,” He whispered to your ear, “Tell me why you deserve to come hm?”
“I-“ But your words were lost; Minho’s free hand slid to where you were connected and found your clit. He played with you, making sure you wouldn’t be able to think straight, that you wouldn’t be able to answer back.
“I guess you don’t deserve to come. Should I stop?” As if he could stop.
“No!” You screamed as he kept playing with you. You were so close you could taste your orgasm. “Please, Minho. Let me come.”
He pulled your hair a little stronger and bit on your flesh. “Then tell me.”
“I love you!” You screamed, “Please, please, please.” You were a mess. A beautiful, sticky mess. His mess.
“Then come.”
You convulsed violently around him, eyes rolling back in your head. Minho’s thrusts got sloppier as he helped you through your orgasm while seeking his own. Minho stilled and let out a loud and deep groan as he spilled into you, letting you take all of him, not wasting any single drop.
“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. He pulled out slowly, dragging the moment and admired as his cum slowly dripped from you. “Your pussy looks amazing.” He scooped the cum that was leaking from you and pushed it back inside you.
“Minho, too sensitive.” You whimpered, unable to take any more.
“Sorry,” He peppered your shoulder, your back with kisses. “Can’t help it.” He plopped beside you and pulled you in his arms, kissing the crown of your head.
Your body ached, every part of it but it was worth it. The bliss that followed was even more worth it. You were back to where you belonged to. His bed, his arms, his heart. You kissed his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly and tilted your head.
“I love you.” You told him again. “I loved you then and I love you even more now.”
“Now that’s the mind-blowing sex talking.”
You groaned and hit his chest. “And the moment is ruined.”
But Minho laughed heartily and pressed you tightly against him. “No, it’s not. And I love you too.”
#stray kids#lee know#stray kids smut#lee know smut#stray kids fic#stray kids fluff#stray kids x reader#lee know x reader#han jisung#stray kids scenario#lee minho#not over you
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Immortal!Ghost x Reader that always comes back
The first time they met, they grew up together. Neighbours on their little village, since they met Simon felt this attraction towards her. Every second of the day, his mind was flooded with her.
She didn't feel it. A new soul, too anxious to experience, too eager to see, too impatient to learn.
In her first life, she died young, a tragic death that the whole village mourned. A young woman who curiously travelled inside the forest ignoring the threats behind the tree line.
Simon took it the hardest, they were supposed to go there together, but they argued about something so silly, and he stayed home while she perished.
But he never forgot her. And when he grew up, a grown man, travelling to close villages for his business, he felt the attraction again. Feeling mad at himself for breaking your trust, he waited for the woman to turn, as if ready to fault you for his reaction.
But he came face to face with you. Again. After so many years, there you were. He could feel the tears prick at his eyes, teasing to fall; and he felt as if he had been punched on his lungs the moment you looked back at him.
To Simon, he was looking at his old love, the one that never returned said love, that he lost so long ago. But to you, an older man, crying, was looking at you. So you quickly run back to your house, away from him.
Simon doesn't remember much of your second life, there are so many that blend together, at least those on which you didn't love him back. He hates those the most when he had to live through centuries of looking for you, finding you, watching you fall in love with somebody else and then, as always, die.
But sometimes, there are lives in which you would look back at him, with so much love in your eyes. Not as much as Simon, that would be impossible, Simon had a millennium's worth of love saved up inside his heart and you barely had a decade or two; still, you came second to the competition.
At some point, he stopped ageing, or at least it slowed down to the point it seems he stopped. He was relieved he did, keeping his image of 30-something Simon Riley. But it still added pressure to him; now on top of having to find you, there were lives where he needed to stay in the shadows, waiting for the woman he knew you were going to grow up to be.
He was patient, he needed to be, and he didn't mind waiting. At least, in those lives where you were not together, you keep meeting death at a young age. Always involving yourself with dangerous people or just plain old stupid. Not in the lives you were with him, you always died peacefully of old age in the lives you stayed together, impressed with how young he looked, and with him taking care of you until your last breath.
Having lived so many lives, some memories blend into each other and some simply get forgotten, but there are some he remembers as if they just happened.
Like when you first kissed him, or when you first said you loved him, when he first held you at night or when he almost messed it up once.
He thought you were ready to know the truth, that he knew you from many lives ago, that he was immortal and that you have died so many times he couldn't keep count. You almost left your home that night, only stopping after hearing him:
"Wait, you thought I was serious?" Simon laughed. "That's crazy, love. I was just playing, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
He never tried it again.
In any of your lives did you have kids, he was selfish enough to keep you only for himself. But having a kid, knowing that he would outlive him, and at some point he would disappear to look for you again without being able to give an explanation. It was not the child's fault Simon was a selfish man. But he was patient.
In some lives, you would reappear close. On one live, he found you going out of his house, meeting you next door when you moved into the apartment next to his.
On other ones, you would reappear further away. On some, he wasn't even able to find you. He came face to face with you once when you stayed in Manchester for a while, only being there for work. You didn't even speak English in that life, not to worry, he quickly got to work on learning your language just so he could tell you how much he loved you in a language you would understand.
Now, he could almost speak every single language in the world, not wanting to risk wasting time, even though he was a patient man.
As you were reincarnated again and again, he noticed your personality change. In your earliest lives, you were so energetic, always looking for trouble, getting under his skin, ready to run around the world. As lives went on, you began to be calmer, preferring being a listener rather than a talker.
Simon didn't mind, of course, you always remained kind, gentle and as lovely as in your first life.
Simon was a patient man, he had waited for you so many many lives. Always finding you, always meeting you. You always came back.
You are taking your time on this occasion, but he doesn't worry. He is a patient man.
The original attraction is slowly growing weaker as time goes on, but he doesn't worry. You always come back.
He is starting to forget the last time he saw you, but he doesn't worry. He is a patient man.
You usually only take a couple of decades to come back, but this time is growing closer to a century. But he doesn't worry, you always come back.
Simon Riley is a patient man. And you have always come back.
Masterlist
Hii, how are you?
I got this idea today and needed to write it and post it before I forgot or regretted it. So I hope you guys like it 💗
I'm testing out the "permanent" taglist, I'm adding the link if you want to be included it is also on the masterlist.
P Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @Nothankyew @darkangel4121 @dumb12bvtch1212
#call of duty#cod x reader#cod#call of duty x reader#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost cod#simon riley#ghost imagine#simon ghost imagine#simon ghost x you
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Wolf in Duck's Clothing
Summary: A small child sinner tries to navigate her way through Hell.
Pairings: Lucifer x Child!GN!Reader
Warnings: None that I know of but it's Hazbin, we'll find them eventually.
This is a part one for now to test out the new writing grounds! Hope you enjoy! ♥
Part 2
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Sinners couldn’t have children in Hell. It was common knowledge. So, an actual child running around hell was rare.
For a child to be there, they had to be a Hellborn or…the most rare choice, they were a sinner themselves.
There were some that took in the rare little sinners. However, there were a few that continued to wander the streets. Alone and helpless. It was how (Y/N) got into the situation they were in.
Ducking between legs and slipping through the crowd, their breath came out quickly as they looked back to see their pursuer still following, but falling behind. They needed to hide. Alleys were obvious and usually, more trouble than they were worth, inside another building was even more reckless.
Then they spotted hedges surrounding a large home. The big bushes might be dying, but it would be enough to slip into. Quickly, they slipped through the crowd, diving through the hedge to hide beyond it. On the other side, the large home stood in its glory along with a neglected garden in front of it.
Holding their breath, they watched the hedge, waiting to see if their pursuer followed but breathed with relief when a minute passed and the hedge didn’t move from any disturbance. They waited a few more minutes before they’d make their hasty escape from the land they had stumbled upon. Looking around, (Y/N) could imagine how beautiful the garden might have once been.
The pretty colors and life that would have flourished in the dark place. There was one living plant, making them wonder slightly closer in curiosity. A large tree that still stood…
“You’re trespassing.” A voice spoke behind them.
The small child, jumped, giving a small scream as they turned, clutching onto the stolen goods they had in their arms. Behind them, a man with pale white skin, red cheeks, and hair hiding under a large hat looked down at them with crossed arms.
Lucifer stared at the small sinner. Their form was one of a wolf’s, their ears currently pointed back and tail pressed close to them as they stared up at him in fear. In their arms, he spotted a few bits of food. Bread, cans of something, and…apples. He stood straighter.
“Did you take from the tree?” He growled.
“W-What?” They looked at the tree seeing it was indeed an apple tree. “No! I’m-I’m sorry sir! I-I didn’t mean to come h-here.”
He scoffed. “Then what are you doing here if not to steal?”
“I-I was hiding…” Tears welled up in their eyes and Lucifer looked confused. “I-I’m sorry, I did st-steal, but not from you…I st-stole this food from the store.”
Now Lucifer was utterly baffled. They were confessing their wrongdoings? Why weren’t they lying, they’re a sinner. He stared at their terrified form trying to figure them out. When he’d seen them from his office window, he'd confidently assumed that they were just a short adult sinner. But…
“How old are you?” He asked.
“…Eight.” They muttered.
He sighed deeply as he looked away from them. An actual child. He knew there were children, sinners, he’d just never met one during his centuries, not that he went out much to have the chance to meet one.
“Where are your parents or the people taking care of you?” He huffed.
They looked around, sputtering. “I, um-Well I—”
“Any time now.” He waved his hand.
“…I’m-I’m taking care of me.” They muttered.
He once more stood in confusion. They were on their own? But he looked them over again. Ratty, torn clothes, food they stole in their arms, on their own to begin with.
He crossed his arms again, gripping them as he stared at the small child, making them squirm in place.
“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, before walking to the house. “Come on.”
“W-What?” They sputtered.
“Come on, in the house.” He motioned to it as he looked back. “I need to find somewhere to bring you and I don’t know where to start. So come inside so I can figure it out.”
They stared in shock before quickly scampering after him. He sighed as he led them in. He wasn’t fond of sinners by any means. He hated his own subjects. But the father side of him couldn’t just leave a child out on their own to fend for themselves. He’d find somewhere to send them so he could be done with it.
“Thank you, sir.” They muttered.
“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled.
#child reader#lucifer magne x reader#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader
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im begging for more sub!mingi 🙏🙏🙏
𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬. ♡
warnings ─ medieval au, vamp!mingi, human/princess!fem reader, descriptions of drinking/eating blood, forbidden love, mingi is super tall (like 7'0 at best because why not? sorry for my super short readers LOL) and reader is shorter than him, SIZE DIFFERENCE, mingi immediately falls in love with reader
tags ─ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride @byuntrash101
m.list ┃ nsfw warnings under the cut.
warnings ─ switch (dom leaning) fem!reader, switch (sub leaning)!mingi, unprotected sex (don't do this, especially with some random vampire), handjob, praise kink (m & f), creampie, miss kink, hickeys
Desperate for blood in his system, Mingi set out to the forest in search of his meal. It was a night like any other, as the moon cast an ethereal glow upon the dark ancient forest. Being alone for many centuries will do something to a vampire, and for Mingi, it made him extremely hungry. His hunger for blood and human touch consumed him. His tan, starving body ached with each step he took, ached with the desire to feel the warmth of a living being against his cold, immortal skin.
And then, he heard it; the sound of frantic footsteps approaching, growing louder with each passing moment. Mingi hid behind a tree thinking it was another vampire or some animal, but it turned out to be you. A lost princess running through the woods trying to find safety.
You fled from your palace after having heard rumors of an impending arranged marriage. You didn't want to marry a man you didn't know anything about. You weren't even attracted to him. Tears streaked down your delicate cheeks as you stumbled through the woods, desperate to find some sort of freedom and escape the fate that awaited you. As you emerged from behind a large oak tree, you went behind another tree, finding yourself face-to-face with Mingi, his piercing red eyes fixed upon you.
Despite your initial fear, there was something about Mingi that interested you. He was unlike any man you had ever met, his otherwordly beauty captivating you. Also, he was super fucking tall. You liked how strong he looked.
"Who are you?" you whisper, your voice shaking with a mixture of awe and fear.
Mingi steps forward with graceful movements despite his almost emaciated frame. "I'm Mingi," he said, voice smooth as silk. It was like dark chocolate and honey mixed together. "I could smell you from the moment you entered the forest. Dear princess, I sense you need...companionship?" He closed the distance between you two, the air between you crackling with an unspoken desire.
He spoke so elegantly. Better than any man you've ever met. You hesitated, your heart racing. You've heard so many stories of vampires, creatures who drank the blood of the living and preyed upon the weak and innocent. As intimidating as Mingi looked, you weren't scared. He made you feel safe, despite the danger you knew you were in. You take a shaky breath and nod.
"May I know your name?" he asks, hand ever so gently grazing your cheek. You tense up and nod.
"Y/N,"
"Such a pretty name, miss." His hands move down to your neck, feeling your soft skin. As he moved closer, his fangs elongated, his breath warm against your neck. He hesitates for a moment before leaning down and gently biting down on your neck, drawing your blood into his mouth. You didn't move. You grabbed onto his forearm and dug your nails into his skin, whimpering but ultimately liking it.
You gasp, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins. The sensations are unlike anything you've ever experienced, and despite your fear, you find yourself unable to resist the primal urge to feel more of it.
Your blood flowed freely into Mingi's mouth, and he drank deeply, his fangs tearing through your delicate skin. The fear of turning and becoming a vampire was long gone. You moaned softly, arching your back as the sensation became almost too much. You thought being bitten by a vampire would hurt, but this didn't hurt at all. If anything it felt good. Mingi pulled back slightly, eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. He didn't expect you to respond in such a way.
You reach up, running your fingers through his long, platinum-blonde hair. "You're not like the vampires they speak of," you whisper, your voice barely audible.
"You're different." you smile. Mingi chuckles darkly, his fangs still embedded in your neck. He pulls back slightly, mumbling against her neck.
"Perhaps," he voice, voice low and seductive. "I am." And with that, he sunk his fangs back into your neck, pulling you closer while doing so, your bodies pressing tightly together.
As he feasts on your blood, his strength begins to return, his body literally growing in front of your very eyes. He felt a newfound vigor coursing through his veins. He retracts his fangs and pulls away from your neck, licking the blood from his lips.
Sex. That's, quite literally, the only thing on your mind at the moment. Your eyes were glazed over with desire, and you reached out to place your hand on his collarbone, running your fingers down his chest. Mingi gasps at the contact, tan cheeks flushed pink. He had not expected this from you. You were a damn princess. It was incredibly inappropriate what you were doing, yet you didn't seem to care. Your royal status didn't mean anything to you now.
As you continue to explore his body, he whines softly, the sensation overwhelming his senses. He moans softly, the sound echoing through the trees. He was so desperate for her touch now. He needed it. He'd do anything for you to please him.
Your fingers dance across his chest, teasing the skin underneath his top before dipping lower, tracing the muscles of his abdomen through the thin fabric of his shirt. He shudders with pleasure, his eyes closed tightly as he focusses on the feeling of your touch. It's been so long he's experienced remotely close to this. It can't end. Not now.
As you continued your teasing, you reached even lower, fingertips brushing against the cloth that covered his hips. You look up, asking for permission without actually saying anything and he nods. He groans, his body tense with anticipation. He knows what you're about to do, he feels more alive than he has in centuries.
For a moment you hesitate. Do you really want to do this to a man you just met? This wouldn't be your first time, but it would be your first with a vampire. What would everyone think of you when they realize you hooked up with a random, hungry vampire? Well, they wouldn't just randomly find out, and you were sure he wouldn't tell anybody. You slowly pull his pants down, now palming his erection through his underwear.
His breath catches in his throat as you pull his throbbing cock out of his underwear. Hard and aching in your hand. Your eyes widen in surprise at how big he is, but you don't pull away, keeping delicate fingers wrapped around him and beginning to stroke. The sensation is almost too much to bear; he's never felt anything so good, so right. Having a human touch him in places like this drove him crazy.
Right now, you were back against the tree with him leaning over you, droopy eyes examining your facial features while trying to control his own expressions. With every stroke of your hand, every caress of your fingers, he feels more and more alive. Your touch is like magic to him, as if you have the power to bring him back to life.
"You're so beautiful," you whisper, fingers never slowing as they stroke him. He reaches down and cups your face in his hands, kissing you passionately. To him, your lips tasted like candy. He felt the softness of your breasts pressing against him. He groaned into the kiss, his hips bucking slightly as you continued to stroke him. He wants more of you. All of you.
"Come here," Slowly, he pulls away from the kiss with heavy breathing. Switching positions so his back was against the tree. He slides down the tree, now sitting down. You get on the ground with him and he pulls you into his lap. You straddle him, legs wrapping around his waist, and lean forward, your breasts brushing against his chest.
You bunch up your dress, Mingi assisting you by grabbing the bottom part of your dress and simply ripping it in half, also ripping your undergarments and pushing your panties to the side. For a split second you were mad at Mingi for destroying your dress which was priceless, but the thought dissolved in your mind when his cock entered your tight heat.
“Holy fuck.” you whine as your fingers crawled their way into Mingi’s hair, gripping it tightly as you adjusted to his size. He filled you perfectly, every crevice now covered by his length. He could feel your innocence seeping out of you, your scent racking his brain. It’s so much more, so much better than be expected, and it was literally the most incredible sensation he’s ever felt.
He began to thrust, looking up at you with hearts in his eyes. Your eyes were shut tightly, focused on the feeling while trying to move your hips in rhythm with his. Your connection grew stronger with every movement.
“Miss,” Mingi gasps, pushing his face into your neck and furrowing his eyebrows, layering your neck with kisses. The sound of your passion echoed throughout the forest, mingling with the noises of other animals and the rustling of leaves. It was like the world revolves around you two for just this moment.
“I’m close,” his muffled words rang in your ear, causing you to grip at his hair tightly. “I—I cant hold back for long,”
“Don’t.” you pant, feeling your orgasm build up little by little, closer and closer to the edge it felt like. Mingi also felt the same, knowing that when he gets there, it’ll be glorious. Like nothing he’s ever felt before.
Your nails move from his hand and to his shoulders, moving underneath his top and scraping lightly against his shoulders, leaning forward and slamming your hips against his own. He barely felt present in the moment anymore, mind blank and his body overwhelmed with pleasure, but in the very best way possible. Your breath is hot against his neck, and your whispers barely even register to him. Mingi whispered in a language you didn’t understand, hands clawing at your hips.
You moved faster, lost in the physical connection, eyes fluttering closed. Mingi whimpered your name, thighs shaking the faster you moved. It became too much. He could barely take you bouncing up and down on him.
Time seemed as if it was slowing down, Mingi holding your hips down and emptying his load inside of you. He threw his head back, gasping for air and moaning your name repeatedly. It felt like he was being milked. At the same time, you came, squeezing around his length and making him whine from the overstimulation.
For a moment you two sat, ignoring the copious amounts of sweat on your bodies, leaning into him and hugging his body. Mingi at first was confused. Why were you hugging him? He didn’t think you developed feelings for him like he had for you.
“M-Miss, are you oka-”
"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your hearts racing. "For this. All of this.”
“…You’re more than welcome, princess.” he met your gaze,. “Are you going to return to your kingdom now? I assume it’s, well, punishable to sleep with a vampire. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your family and people.”
“Are you kidding? I’m staying here with you. They want me to marry a man I don’t even know.” you sigh.
“Well, you don’t know me? Yet you let me come inside of you.” Mingi chuckles, his words making you blush. You shake your head in disagreement.
“But I feel like there’s something between us. It’s not the same with the other man.” you smile. “I want to stay here. With you. For as long as I can. Maybe until they find me, but Is rather stay here with you then return to my kingdom.”
Mingi kisses your cheek. “Well, so be it.”
You two sit together in silence, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. More so a peaceful one, a shared moment of connection. As the sun began to set, you didn’t move, enjoying the feeling of Mingi’s arms wrapped around your waist.
You were better off here.
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez imagines#ateez scenarios#sub ateez#sub!ateez#mingi smut#sub mingi#sub!mingi
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Clarisse and Reader (daughter of Poseidon) meeting in the middle of the night to swim in the lake and being caught by Chiron in a make-out session and being punished for it
Young love
Clarisse la rue x fem!reader (Poseidon's kid)
Summary: when Clarisse and reader cant get alone time in land and daylight, they search for the comfort of water and nights, until they are found
Warnings: poorly written make out session, fluff, lovebirds, kissing, chiron was there
(Yall already know)
"Clarisse are you sure nobody will notice we left?"
I said, while we both took of our clothes somewhere in the sand, the night was beautiful and me and Clarisse wanted some deserved time alone, wich we couldnt have in daylight
With the summer everyone was in camp and nowhere was calm and alone enough for us to have...a little time for us.
So there it goes our idea, to go out in the middle of the night to swim at the beach.
"Who would notice? Everyone is sleeping right now, dont let your head stop you from having some fun... c'mon"
She took me by the hand, walking me to the water, and we only stopped when the water was almost on our necks.
"Hey clari, do you hear this?"
"Hear what?"
She looks at me, and then looks around, as if waiting to see if somebody was there.
"The waves, arent they the most beautiful melody?"
I close my eyes, feeling the hot water currents softly in my body, and hearing the sound of the waves who never ceased to wet the sand.
"No"
She kissed the base of my neck
"Your voice is"
"Clarisse la rue being lovestruck? Thats new"
I looked at her, smilling big, to wich she just answered "i dont have much time with you, let me be ridiculous"
Her kissed went up, from the base, to the middle, to my jaw, and then my lips.
Her arms were around my hips, pulling me closer to her, my arms automatically hugged her neck.
I couldnt describe a better feeling, being in the water, on the arms of the girl i liked, kissing her, being unafraid of living, of loving.
Everything was too much, and yet too less.
I wanted more, more love, more of her, more kisses, just more more more.
Her tongue was hot against mine, and i felt everything with such intensity, i could swear my legs became jello, if my body wasnt inside the water, i would be shaking.
Its siliy, we kissed a thousand times and it still feels like the first one, i still get nervous when she looks at me that way only she can do.
I deepened the kiss, and felt her hands lowering a few inches, please let all the fish be sleeping, they like gossip a little bit too much
There was wind, and still i felt hot, even more when her mouth got back to the base of my neck, bitting it gently.
My eyes closed with enjoyment, but they oppened it up so quickly as i heard a familiar sound, a too familiar sound.
"Um.. clari we should sto-"
"Oh please, i barely have any time with you anymore, just one more kiss... or two.. or three.."
She said going directly back to kissing my mouth
The chill in my spine did not went away, actually, it had gone bigger when i heard him clearing his throat and saying:
"Young demigods... dont you think its too late to be swimming?"
Me and Clarisse separate really fast, faces going white with the shock of being caught by him
"CHIRON! I...we... how are you? The family doing great?"
He just stared at us with a fatherly look
"Both of you, get dressed and go back to your own cabins.....and three days of clean duty"
"Yes chiron, we are sorry"
We say togheter
"And next time you two decide to sneak out, at least do at daylight, so we can notice if something happens to either of you...or at least in a place harder to catch because... seriously.. i've been alive centuries, did you really think i wouldnt check the beach?"
#lesbian#fanfic#clarisse pjo#pjo tv show#pjo series#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue
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Love and Loss: Ch.4
Warnings: Angstttt, Some Violence
Ch.3 Here | Ch.5 Here
***
Feyre was here again. You knew the deal Rhys made, that every month he would go retrieve her. You understood he had to keep it up, had to play by the rules of his own game. He was as loving and kind to you as ever, but there was a growing divide between the two of you.
You were losing your husband.
At first you cried, eaten up by the sadness and pain. Until you had no more tears left. It hadn’t been the same since he came back from Under the Mountain. You had lost him 50 years ago, when you begged him to not go and he went anyway.
You accepted your marriage was coming to an end. Whether Rhys wanted to admit it or not, he could never love you the same again. Not after the trauma of what he went through, and not after realizing he had a mate. A mate that wasn’t you.
The day he brought Feyre to Velaris was the day it all finally ended. You knew Rhys would never look at you the same now that she was here, living in the Night Court. You waited for the pain in your heart as you watched him care for her, but it never came. There wasn’t anything left.
You moved your stuff out of Rhys’ room, asking Azriel to help bring it up to the House of Wind. You had no desire to stay in the townhouse anymore, a place that felt less and less like home everyday. You chose one of the unused bedrooms close to your friend, knowing you would feel less alone if he was nearby.
Rhys hardly noticed you had gone.
You waited for him to come ask for a divorce. You waited for him to say a single word to you. All you got was silence. You kept to yourself most of the time, not having the energy to be around the others. You stayed in your room and read, allowing the made-up stories to swallow the nightmare you lived in now.
It was some days after Rhys brought Feyre to Velaris that he called a family dinner. You dressed as usual, playing the ever-dutiful role of the High Lords wife. You kept your wedding rings on, the tattoo on your arm that matched Rhys’ visible as always. You would play the game until he admitted it was over.
You entered the dining room, not at all surprised to see Feyre in your usual seat next to your husband. You sat next to Azriel, acting as if this was all normal. You noticed the way her curious eyes rested on you, taking in your appearance. “Who are you?” She asked, rather politely.
You gave her a small smile, opening your mouth to respond when Rhys interrupted. “This is one of my dear friends.” Your ears roared at his words as he said your name. Dear friends? 150 years of being his perfect wife and you got reduced to a ‘friend’. Tension flooded the room as your friends took in what be said.
A tension Feyre noticed.
“Oh,” she said, understanding that he was hiding something. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you Azriel’s wife?”
The shadowsinger choked on his drink next to you, a laugh bubbling out of you in shock at her words. Feyre’s cheeks colored as she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry, I noticed the ring and assumed.” She looked down at the table in embarrassment. Rhys shot you and Az a nasty look, angry that you had upset his mate.
“Oh, it is okay!” You consoled, waving away her worry. “No, my husband sits next to you.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at Rhys, who was in turn glaring daggers at you. You gave him a sweet smile, done playing his game. He could either man up and divorce you, or treat you like the wife you were. “But you said she was your friend?” Feyre asked him, confused by the whole situation.
“Our marriage was one of duty, not love.” Rhys told her, the lie falling from his lips so easily. The tattoo that matched his burned against your skin, a signal that the marriage pact was breaking. You snorted, standing from the table.
“If that’s the story you wish to tell, Rhysand.” You shot at him, disgust dripping from your words. “As it stands, i’d say our marriage no longer matters.” You slid the rings you’ve worn for a century and a half off your finger, setting them down on the table. “Welcome to Velaris, Feyre.”
***
The second you were out of sight of the dining room you took off running. You wished more than ever that you could fly, that you could run away from the House and never return. You knew you would have to answer to Rhys, and it wasn’t his anger that scared you. It was yours. You didn’t regret what you said or how you acted. After so long of playing the docile female, you had decided that version of you was dead.
Rhys had killed her.
You stopped running in front of the doors to the library. You may as well reside in a public area, waiting for Rhys to come find you. You grabbed a book and settled on the couch as if nothing was wrong, opening it and beginning to read.
It did not take long before he showed up.
“What, may I ask, is wrong with you?” He demanded from the doorway.
“Me? The question, dear husband, is what is wrong with you?” You asked, not looking up from your book.
“This isn’t like you.” He said, his voice quiet.
“No, it isn’t.” You agreed, still continuing to read as if he wasn’t there.
Rhys walked over, coming to stand in front of you. “Tell me how to fix it. How to fix us.” He begged, pushing your book down gently.
You sighed, looking up at him. “You can’t.”
Anger flooded through the male in front of you, not used to his charms not working. “You are being ridiculous.”
“No, Rhys. I am simply looking at the facts. Our marriage has been over for a long while.” You spoke nonchalantly, as calmly as if this were a conversation about the weather.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re allowing jealousy to cloud your love for me.” You laughed at his words.
“My love for you? What about your love for me? Or was our marriage just an ‘act of duty’?” You quoted his words back at him, standing up from the sofa.
He rolled his eyes, exasperated by you. “I was trying to fix the mess you made!”
“The mess I made? By gods Rhysand, do you even hear yourself? You were the one who chose to introduce me as your ‘friend’!” You shot out, anger rising under your skin.
“She doesn’t need to know everything.” He defended, crossing his arms in front of him.
“Oh my bad, how silly of me. Of course your mate doesn’t need to know about your wife!” Your voice was close to a shout, but you didn’t care.
“Do not raise your voice with me!” He yelled back, stepping closer to intimidate you. “You could have just pretended to be Azriel’s wife!”
You blinked up at him, shock on your face. “There was a time when even the thought of me pretending that would have you fuming.”
“That time is over. I can’t feel jealousy for someone I no longer love.” His words were like a bullet through you, a knife in your heart.
“I see.” You said, moving away from him. “You know Rhys, you could have just asked for a divorce when you returned from Under the Mountain.” Your voice was devoid of emotion as you stared into his eyes. “I would have done anything to make you happy, as always. There was no need to force yourself to pretend you still cared about me.” You watched your words land, regret almost coming onto his face.
Instead, he scoffed at you. “I’ve never cared about you.” His voice was dangerously calm. “I married you because I like to win, my dear.” He came close to you, knuckles dragging across your cheek. “I never loved you. What I loved was dangling you over Azriel’s head.”
Your hand connected with his face before you even realized what you were doing. The smack echoed through the room, too angry to care about the consequences. In seconds Rhys had you kneeling on the floor, his power raiding your mind. He had only ever trained you to keep your shields up enough to deflect initial attacks, but never strong enough to deflect him.
You knew you were screaming, the pain unlike anything you had ever experienced. “Never,” Rhys roared in your mind, “lay your hands upon me again. You ungrateful, dirty bitch.” You were trying everything to push him out as you began to feel your brain turn to mush, unable to withstand the power he was sending through you. Your nails were scratching into the hardwood, blood coming from your fingers as they shattered.
Suddenly he was gone, ripped out of your mind. You crumpled into a ball, shaking as you curled in on yourself. You heard the distant sounds of fighting, someone picking you up. You recognized Cassian’s comforting voice whispering in your ear, trying to bring you back to the present. You opened your eyes, vision blurry while you looked around the room. You saw a great cloud of darkness, Rhysand’s power and Azriel’s shadows. Cassian set you down gently onto the sofa, running into the fight to separate his brothers.
“Enough!” He roared, pushing the two of them apart. The darkness on both sides dwindled, revealing two bloody males. “Rhys, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but if you think you can murder your wife in our home you are mistaken.” Cassian’s voice was hard, strained.
You watched as Rhys shook out his sleeves, pinning his cuffs back up. “She shouldn’t have acted so foolish then.” He said, sounding nothing like the male you all knew. He turned from his brothers, leaving the room. Azriel was by your side in seconds, eyes holding yours.
“Let me help you.” He whispered, pulling you into his arms. You nodded, laying your tired head on his chest. You faintly heard him and Cassian talking as he walked you to his room, some sort of plan being made.
“We can’t let him be around her alone again.” Azriel was saying.
“I agree. I think we should keep an eye on Rhys as well. This is most unlike him. We cant risk him attacking anyone else.” Cassian responded, ever the General.
Azriel hummed in agreement, too angry to say much more. You began to fall in and out of consciousness, the power Rhys had thrown at you too much to handle. The last thing you remember was Azriel yelling for a healer, placing you onto a bed that smelled like him.
***
You were laid out on a stretch of grass near the Sidra, a book in your hands. You hummed to yourself, turning another page. You were hardly taking the words in, mind distracted by your most recent outing with Rhys. The new High Lord was certainly charming, daydreaming about him every second you were apart.
You thought about the way he had kissed you when he dropped you off back home, the way his hands cupped your face. The gentle words he whispered into your lips, praising your beauty and mind. You hadn’t been in love before, but you were certain you were now. You smiled to yourself at the thought.
Footsteps approached you and you turned to find Azriel. “Hello,” you greeted, moving into a sitting position. You patted the spot next to you for him to sit as well.
“Hello,” he said back, sitting next to you. “What are you reading?”
“Oh, some new romance I found at the library. Truthfully, i’m finding it a little hard to focus.” You giggled, not having told your friend what’s been going on. You knew he and Rhys were like brothers, but something felt off about telling him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He pried, reading your body language.
“Okay,” you began, turning to face him. “But you can’t get mad!” He laughed, shaking his head.
“I’d never get mad at you.”
“Rhys has been courting me, and I think he’s going to make it official soon.” Your words were met with a stunned silence. Your smile faltered, worried your friend was uncomfortable that you were going with his brother.
“Oh.” Was all Azriel said, staring blankly at you.
“Is that okay? I hope I didn’t upset you. He’s just so sweet and handsome and ugh!” You gushed, throwing yourself back down onto the blanket.
Azriel remained stoic next to you, sucking the joy out of your announcement. “That’s great.” He said dully, not sounding like it was great at all. He stood abruptly, beginning to walk away. “I have to go. Urgent meeting just came up.”
He was gone before you could say another word.
***
Ahhhhh I so hope you guys enjoyed this part!!! You got a little snippet of what happened all those years ago at the end, the next part will hold Azriel’s account of what happened between him and Rhys. Please let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!!!!!
Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters s @mybestfriendmademe
#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel#rhysand#azriel x reader#rhys x reader#rhysand x reader#love and loss#azriel x y/n#azriel x you
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