Sugar On The Rim I

Sugar on the Rim I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the gala rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating computers.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating computer?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to waver almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

the seventeen chronicles : a mini-series w/ seungcheol, jeonghan, wonwoo, jihoon and minghao

synopsis : london, 1804. each season is marked by the turbulence of newly eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, all looking for the greatest match of the season and making the perfect alliance. this mini-series is about five of them.

pairing : svt member x fem!reader. stories are set up in the same universe but can be read independently.

genre : regency!au, fluff, comfort, angst (it’ll be more detailed for each fic)

status : finished

word count : 36,2k w

a/n : this is really historically incorrect, im just here for the aesthetic so let’s go with the flow and enjoy ig

running for the crown : king!seungcheol x queen!reader, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, 6,6k w

y/n, duchess of aquitaine, spent her whole life in france when she’s suddenly sent off in england where she is meant to marry choi seungcheol, the second son of late king of england and future ruler of the english empire. when she arrives in a whole new and foreign country, lost and disoriented, she meets a strange man, soft as the ray of sunshine and cold as the gust of wind.

you’re the only one that i want : brother’s viscount!joshua x countess!reader, brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, 6k w

saying that y/n was the most awaited debutante was a huge understatement. an ethereal beauty, a radiant personality and, last but definitely not least, an immeasurable dowry: the young girl was the target of all the ton’s eyes. yet, after losing her older brother, the young lady was far from interested in finding a husband, which wasn’t the ton’s opinion at all. seeking her brother’s best friend’s help, she will have to fight and protect herself against this cruel world.

checkmates : viscount!jeonghan x duchess!reader, enemies to lovers, 1,8k w

cold. apathetic. indifferent. arrogant. self-satisfied. those were the words the court used to employ when they were referring to you. you were well known in the whole kingdom for your cleverness at chess, your grace when dancing and your precision at archery but also for your lack of conversation or interest in anyone or anything apart from dance and studies. and if it seemed like the ton got used to your attitude, yoon jeonghan didn’t look fazed in the slightest.

prenuptial agreement : duke!wonwoo x viscountess!reader, fluff, angst, childhood friends to fake marriage to lovers, 6,1k w

this is your twentieth birthday and your twentieth season in london but this time, it will be as an eligible bachelor and bachelorette. you become the most popular young lady to make her debut among the ton while wonwoo is avoiding marriage like plague. but when your family decides to accept the proposal from an old and repellent count, you try to find a way out and let’s say you have the most brilliant and stupid idea.

the war’s board : war advisor!jihoon x queen’s lady!reader, rivals to lovers, 6,2k w

jihoon’s fate was preordained. growing up alongside the king, he followed every geopolitical lessons, learnt every strategies and read every books related to war. one day, he meets one of the queen’s favourite lady who exceptionally become his colleague. a strong rivalry and competition starts between the two of them and jihoon knew that losing wouldn’t be an option

you are a work of art : diplomate!minghao x countess!reader, strangers to lovers, 3,8k w

xu minghao spent his whole life in a boat, traveling from an embassy to another, tagging along with his parents. today, his parents wish he could find an anchor in london but minghao can’t resign himself to give up a life full of adventures and treasures.

bonus: knight of king : king!soonyoung x knight!reader, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love, 5,5k w

being the knight of the king of the french future monarch included being constantly around him, insuring his constant protection and wellbeing. being the knight of the king also included putting his life before yours and always being ready to sacrifice said life for him. and you were ready for those two functions since the moment you decided to enlist. 

but what being the knight of the king didn’t include was to fall for him and sadly, you also added this function to your list of tasks. 

@/som1ig 2023 | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: swearing, otherwise mostly fluff

Part XXVI | Part XXVIII

Next few days it rained just as Tamlin had predicted. Thanks to him you had enough food, the only problem was the fast running out herbs. Not wanting to go out, it was a great chance to practice your magic abilities. High Lord always sat down with you, watching over you. Whenever you had trouble, he offered advice. It wasn't easy after so many years of not using your powers, but it was fun and the two of you laughed a lot when things didn't turn the way you wanted them.

Except of that there was nothing much to do. You couldn't go out and moreover as a result of your reckless run in the rain you caught a cold, so looking out the window and wishing the downpour finally stopped was all you were allowed to do.

Tamlin banned you from the kitchen, making you sit whole day in front of the hearth while he took care of everything. Including you. He wouldn't even let you go up the stairs on your own. You suspected that if he wanted he could cure you with a single snap of fingers, but for some reason he didn't want to. But you couldn't complain at all.

It was pleasant to have somebody to care for you, especially when they did it with such love. Every refilling of your mug was accompanied by kiss on crown of your head and kind smile. Every fixing of the blanket or handing you a book, got you a soft, sweet kiss on cheek and gentle caress. No need to say that you actually spent more time sitting on his lap than on your own. Your chest swelled every time Tamlin slipped into your armchair, pulling you to his strong body.

Bad weather also gave you a lot of time to talk, to really talk about things that bothered you. You patiently listened to his life story, about his family, years in father's army and everything that hurt him while Amarantha pushed him to sacrifice his friends, made him watch the death of so many innocent lives right before his eyes and then just for fun tortured girl he liked and even killed her. He told you about what happened after Amarantha died, all the nightmares that haunted him for months, the echo of the crack of neck that followed him every second of every day. He intentionally skipped the part about your brother being an ass, but you already heard about it from Feyre.

You knew he didn't want you to pity him and you tried not to, but it was hard. You reassured him that he did all he could to protect his Court and held him when you were short for words.

When it was your turn to share pieces of you, well, you didn't have much to say. Your family wasn't perfect, but it wasn't as bad as Tamlin's. Your mother, cousin, brother and his friends made sure you had a quite happy childhood and the only really bad, traumatic thing that happened to you, was the night you lost your mother and your memories.

"Tamlin, I want to thank you," you whispered into the crook of his neck when your tears finally dried. He was gently rocking you while drawing circles on your back with his warm hand. "If it wasn't for you, I would be dead."

He shook his head dismissively. His body was tense as you shared what you saw that night, his jaw still clenched, tips of his claws slightly jabbing the skin of your hip where he held you. You couldn't see his face from this angle, but you could imagine his frown, cold emerald eyes full of hate and rage gazing into the dancing flames. He looked like that when he told you about his father and brothers. All those years when he tried not to get in their way, keeping it low to survive, left a lot of hatred and anger in him. "I could do more. I-"

"You did enough," you stopped him. "I'm alive just because you were there. You aren't responsible for whatever happened to me afterwards."

He looked down at you in disbelieve. "I knew they had somebody in dungeons. I should have done something, help you escape."

He leaned to the side, putting as much distance as possible in between you which wasn't much in your current position. His hands fell to armrests, claws fully slid out. "It doesn't matter what they would have done to me."

"I thought that we already talked about this, but never mind," you spoke calmly with a soft sigh. "Let's say you went down there and helped me get out. What would have happened to you after that? They would have punished you or even worse."

"It matters..a lot.. To me, it matters.."

He watched you out of the corner of his eye and then sighing pulled you into another hug. He looked defeated.

"We can't change the past, Tamlin. But I'm glad you didn't go down there to find out what your father was up to. If you did, I might have never met you again. And we wouldn't be here now, holding each other."

At that moment air crackled with static energy and Rhysand winnowed in.

"Horrible weather," he grunted, shaking drops of rain from his cloak. Last few days he was too busy and only sent you messages. You didn't expect him to appear anytime soon.

Rhys looked around, his gaze fell to you watching him with wide eyes from Tamlin's lap. He froze in shock, his face colour changing from warm tanned to white and then to red.

"Hands off of my sister," he hissed. "Just a few days! I don't show up for few fucking days and you already dare to touch her? Like this?"

Tamlin sighed looking away and without a word began to gently push you from his lap so he could stand up. You knew he couldn't stand your brother's visits and rather disappeared on the second floor, but you needed to put a stop to this stupid situation. You clung to him, holding him in place. He raised a brow at you, but you only smiled at him.

"You didn't knock," you said in sweet voice to Rhysand whose eyes were jumping between you and High Lord of Spring.

"What?" He sputtered angrily.

"Do you remember when we talked about finding happiness?" You were calm as you looked up at him. His talons scratched the walls around your mind and you let him in.

What does this mean, sweetheart? I'd love you to stand up. Now.

Rhys, I'm happy.

You could feel flush spreading on your cheeks. Talking about this kind of feelings was something you'd never done with your brother nor he mentioned his lovers to you in the past. It was probably the only border you two kept intact.

What?! With him? You can't be serious. If you want a High Lord we can try to figure something out. But you.. and him.. Rhys' voice in your head was almost pleading.

I don't want a High Lord. I don't care about such things at all and you know that very well. I-.. I have feelings for him, Rhys. Do you.. understand? He might be my happy ending.

Admitting this much, you were too shy to even look your brother in eyes.

Meanwhile Tamlin stayed still, watching you with concern. Hands that he respectively put on armrests in presence of your brother, inched closer.

"Everything okay?" he murmured, so only you heard him. You nodded.

Rhysand left your mind and silently considered something. Hands at his sides curled into fists, his knuckles white.

"Can I have a word with you?" he asked Tamlin after a while. He frowned at him, but nodded. This time you let him stand up, watching as the two stepped out into the rain. You couldn't help it and sneaked closer to the front door. Through window you could see Rhysand pacing in the rain back and forth, fingers running through his already damp hair. Tamlin stood on doorstep, arms crossed on his chest, his back to you.

Rhysand stopped pacing and turned to him. "Do you like her?"

Tamlin nodded.

"C'mon," Rhys grunted, rolling his eyes. "I mean, do you really like her? No games, no.. getting back on me or something like that..?"

He again only nodded, no words. Rhysand stared him down, gritting his teeth.

"I love her, Rhysand," Tamlin finally spoke so lowly you almost didn't hear him over the sound of rain. "She is my everything."

Your heart swelled. He said that he loved you. Aloud. You talked a lot these last few days, but except of the 'I like you' he told you before, he hadn't expressed his feelings so directly. It was all just small lovely gestures here, soft kisses everywhere except of your lips there. Hearing him to express his feelings so openly brought tears to your eyes.

"I really hope you mean it," Rhysand snarled threateningly. "If you ever even try to think about hurting her-"

"I know. You'll find a way to revenge. I already heard that once before."

In a blink of eye Rhys stood in front of Tamlin, fisting the front of his shirt. His violet-blue eyes shone dangerously. "I'm not joking. Your kin already took me whole my family. She is the only one left. I won't silently watch her being used, hurt and thrown away by any male."

"I will never do any of that," Tamlin hissed in answer, his chest vibrating with growl, but otherwise he hadn't moved an inch, glaring down on your brother. He was just a few centimetres taller than him, but his frame was much sturdier, especially his upper body.

"Good," Rhys released his shirt still glaring at him and stepped back. "You better remember that."

Then he looked straight at you. See you next time, sweetheart. If anything, send me a message. You know how.

"Take very, very good care of her, Tam. She is the most precious person in the world." And with that he was gone.

Tamlin shook his head and grunting something under his breath he opened the door. As soon as he was inside, you rushed to him and squeezed him in firm embrace. Without thinking you stood up on your tiptoes and your lips landed on his. He went rigid, eyes widening.

You realized what you'd done and in shame started to pull away. Tamlin's hand clasped the back of your head and holding you in place his lips parted slightly and brushed over yours. So slowly, he claimed them in tender kiss, not rushing anywhere. Heart thundering in your chest, you kissed him back.

After a minute or two when your lungs burned with lack of oxygen, he broke the kiss and looked down at you, all flushed with glazed eyes. His fingertips brushed away an unruly strand of hair from your face, sliding down to your jaw.

He moved so fast you didn't see it. His next kiss was nothing like the first one. It was wild and hot and needy, war of lips, teeth and tongues. He kissed you like a starving man, devouring and exploring every inch of your mouth, sucking out all air from you.

One of his hands travelled down your body to your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh. You moaned into his mouth drawing a growl from him. Your back arched, chest brushing against the chest. There was no time to take a gulp of air and you were starting to feel light-headed.

Before you could pass out he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Both of you were heaving heavily, lips swollen.

"Gods," you whispered and he laughed, his breath fanning your face. You were drunk on his scent, now suffocatingly stronger.

"You taste like strawberries." He pecked your cheek, lips trailing to your jaw and down the column of your neck to the shoulder. He didn't miss even that sensitive spot under your ear. You bit on your lower lip, holding back another moan.

"Say it again," you pleaded breathlessly.

"What? About the strawberries?" he smile into your skin.

"No. What you told to Rhys."

"Aah, you mean that part that I won't hurt you."

"No, not that."

"Then what?" He was teasing you while his lips and hands explored your body.

"You are such a tease. The other thing you told him."

"Hmm," he pretended to think about it, his mouth slowly returning back to the spot under your ear. He licked the sensitive skin and lightly nipped at it. The moan escaped you before you could stop it. "You mean the 'love you' part?"

You hummed in agreement, unable to think straight with his soft lips playing with your earlobe while whispering words in hoarse deep voice that made your toes curl.

Tamlin stopped teasing you and scanning your face with interest, he waited until you opened your eyes and focused. He caressed your cheek with feather-light touch, fingers barely touching you. The other arm held you firmly to his body. You could feel every shift of his muscles. Bright emerald eyes found yours.

"I love you, Y/N," he said little nervously. "From bottom of my heart, I love you."

Your heart skipped few beats and you closed your eyes again. It wasn't the first time somebody confessed to you, but this was so different. It felt so right as if you were born only for this, waiting for him your entire life.

You ran your fingers along his shoulder blades, ends of his golden hair tickling your knuckles. You inhaled deeply and found his gaze.

"I love you, Tamlin," you breathed out.

"Thank the Mother," his tense shoulders relaxed a little, "I already thought you won't say it."

You huffed amused. He leaned down and gave you a peck, licked his bottom lip and gave you another and another and soon you were kissing again. His chest vibrated with growl.

"I dreamt about this so many times, but it's actually much better than I imagined."

"You dreamt about this?" You quirked a brow, nuzzling to his neck.

Muscle in his jaw flexed. "I did. Every night when I couldn't sleep, I tried to imagine holding you like this and kissing you."

You giggled. "Liar. You made it up now."

He laughed, the sound echoing in that broad chest of his. You snuggled to him even closer, enjoying the beautiful sound. "No, I didn't."

You blushed so fiercely you were glad he couldn't see your face.

"Shouldn't we make some dinner?" you asked after a while.

"No," his hands nestled on your waist. "You should go sit down and wrap up into blanket while I prepare something to eat."

He started to gently push you back towards your armchair.

"Nooo," you pleaded. "I sat all day long. I want to do something too."

"Fine," he cooed adding a log to fire. He snapped fingers and a tome fell into your lap. You immediately read its title, your fingers already prickling with curiosity. "Will you read to me while I cook then?"

"Seriously?" You pouted. He just nodded, chuckling. He knew you loved reading and used your weakness against you, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist. You opened the book on the first page, eager to find out what kind of story Tamlin chose and started reading it aloud.

You only stopped to eat and then Tamlin took the book and read to you until you fell asleep on his lap. Marking your progress he put the book aside. Carefully he picked you up and carried you to the bed. Throwing the blanket over you, he snuggled up to you, kissed your forehead and smiling fell asleep.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

Nooo Bruce 😭😭😭

𝐈 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐈𝐕)

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"A lonely moon craving for the radiant sun." In which a certain girl catches the attention of a prideful billionaire playboy as they both attempt to find their way in the world. (I haven't seen many fics explore Bruce in his formative years, so I thought I'd share my take on them, of course with romance.)

wc: 2469

“We need to talk,” Bruce began as he pulled her away from Harvey.

“Aren’t we doing that already?” y/n quipped, upset by his sudden appearance. Harvey was about to say something important by the way his face hardened, but she’d have to wait to find out what. 

Bruce audibly groaned as his voice adopted a serious tone, “We need so place private to talk. Now.”

Her eyebrows remained knit, annoyed by Bruce’s insistence, yet regardless she turned toward Harvey to tell him she’d be leaving. It was careless of her to be alone with Bruce, especially after Harvey had disclosed his concerning nature, but regardless it couldn’t be worse than the alternative fate she was running from. 

When her head spun back to her best friend, she noticed Harvey lost in deep thought. His emerald eyes were fixated on something in the distance, staring right through the short blonde wavy bangs that fell over his forehead. She wanted to move a hand to caress his face and preserve the serene moment in which they were both momentarily at peace. She was melting in his presence and she wished to relish it for as long as she could, until Bruce cleared his throat and broke the trance she was lost in. 

“Harvey,” she called out softly, hoping to not startle him. After blinking a few times, he turned to meet his eyes with y/n’s. Acknowledging her with a hum, she continued, “I need to go. I don’t think I’ll be back soon, so don’t wait up for me. Ok?”

He sighed knowing that there was no convincing the woman after she had made up her mind about something. He thought of saying no. He didn’t want her to go, especially not with him. But, she wasn’t going to let go of Bruce anytime soon, despite his warning, and her decision to leave signaled something he wasn’t ready to admit just yet. She was drifting from him and though he was selfish enough to want her all to himself, he loved her too much to deny her anything. 

“Ok.” He answered, before turning back to the work he had set aside earlier. 

Before moving to leave she squeezed his shoulder attempting to elicit a response, but to her dismay, Harvey’s head remained unmoving from the papers in front of him. 

Bruce lead the way out of the library with y/n shadowing right behind with her head down in defeat. They strolled down the halls and past the buildings till they reached the school entrance where a limo was parked. She followed Bruce’s lead as they entered the vehicle and situated themselves.

“Where are we going?” She had no advantage over him, no leverage against Bruce to sway things in her favor. Bruce’s want for help was unexpected, but undeniably an advantageous opportunity for her to finally be free. Amidst the conversation with Harvey she had decided, she would take up on his offer, as long as she knew she was safe. 

“You got in a stranger’s car blindly?” Bruce quipped, obviously trying to tease her.

“Oh, so now we’re strangers? And for your information, I didn’t get in blindly. If we’re going to be partners we have to have a certain level of trust between us, no?” Bruce smirked, happy that she had taken up on his earlier proposition. 

“So, tell me. Why were you there that night?” 

y/n didn’t want to give him all her cards, after all, he had notoriously been deflecting all her questions. Instead, she changed the topic, hoping to run him in circles until he spilled what he knew first. “Are you sure this limo is a safe space to be talking about this? For all we know there could be recording devices hidden everywhere.”

“Trust me, there aren’t. Now, what aren’t you telling me?”

She couldn’t keep it in. If they wanted to get anywhere with this conversation, she had to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. “I ran errands for someone powerful. They usually–” She hesitated, scared that Bruce would turn on her. Instead, his face scrunched into a serious expression as he waited for her to continue, unwavering in his resolve. “I got bribes for them. I would go to a drop-off location, pick up cash, and bring it back to them. I thought this time it would be the same, but the address was something new.”

The boy seated across from y/n was engrossed in the details as he focused on the view outside the window. y/n rolled her eyes, growing irritated by his persistent ignorance of her. Ever since they met, he had barely spoken a word to her and purposely tried to hurt any way he saw fit. What was she even doing here, had she gone insane? Regret began to fester in the pit of her stomach as the past began to creep back into her mind. Four years of what felt like torture endured at the hands of a boy who wanted her help. Nothing made sense anymore. 

The ride continued in silence until they arrived at the manor and headed into an elaborately decorated study. Hundreds of books covered the rich mahogany shelves that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Some books were binded with real leather while others had delicate covers as if they were the original copies. There were no empty spaces or gaps between the levels as each shelf above perfectly matched the height of the books below. The intricacy of the carvings within the wood was so detailed that each crevice formed a masterpiece. Among racks of wood, was an antique bronze staircase still shiny and firm to the touch. It too had intricate designs enchanting it. It was a sight to behold, especially as the evening light filtered through the skylight.

At the center of the room stood a desk with a similar antiquity to it with carved wooden legs and a polished top. In front of it, a whiteboard was placed in which a series of photos, receipts, documents, and magnets were organized, all connected by red string. At the sight, y/n turned to Bruce with an eyebrow raised, barely able to hold the urge to tease him about playing detective. 

“I’ve been investigating Carmine Falcone for a while now. That night we both got an address. You might’ve thought that the address you received was of his home, but you’re wrong.” Bruce began his eagerness to share his revelations apparent in his voice. 

“What do you mean? What else could it be?” y/n turned her body towards him, paying full attention.

“I’m not sure. But I know for a fact that the address I got was of his real home. So that must mean you’re being taken elsewhere.” 

“How would you even know that? If everyone knows Falcone lives in one place, don’t you think it’d be too dangerous for him to do anything illegal there? It would be out in the open.”

“Precisely, he’s hiding in plain sight.” 

y/n thought for a moment. It made sense for him to keep his secret operation somewhere no one would expect. Even more chilling was the admitting that Falcone or Wilcox was trying to tie her up with something really bad. Of course, she would get the ominous address, there would be no one to question her disappearance and no support for her to fall back on if they did in fact trap her. She was the perfect scapegoat. 

Bruce continued, brushing off the worry that plagued y/n’s features. “A couple of months ago, I noticed an increased amount of movement of GCPD vehicles, but there was rarely any radio chatter on the police lines. Obviously, the disparity was suspicious so I–”

y/n stalked closer to Bruce as she interrupted, “How do you even that? Why do you know that? Bruce, it's not normal to be stalking the police even if you are immune to them. I need to know your intentions before I do something I know I’ll regret.” She glared at the boy as he mirrored her movements, attempting to intimidate her. He looked down at her, caging her between his arms as he moved unwaveringly. She didn’t realize her position until her back hit the desk and she was stuck. He put his hands at her sides, resting them on the desktop as he leaned his face closer to her. He was close enough for y/n to feel his warm breath on her skin, reminding her of when he had caught her in that tunnel. But his narrowed eyes scared her for within them, she could see a glimpse of the monster Harvey had described. 

“That’s for me to know.” His voice sounded more husky and articulate than before.

He moved a bit further away, still trapping y/n between him and the desk, as he resumed, “As I was saying, the extra vehicles always appeared after a drug bust. I investigated a little more and found out that half the drugs found at the crime scenes were never reported anywhere. It got me thinking: GCPD is known for being dirty. Almost every cop is on someone’s payroll and Falcone is probably using them to run an operation of his own.”

y/n still wasn’t buying it. Though she knew she shouldn’t poke the beast, she couldn’t help but give in to her instinct. “I still don’t understand why that’s suspicious. If the cops have been dirty for years, what’s so special about them helping Falcone now?”

“Like I said, that’s for me to know.” Bruce remained resolute in his response, but it was the very thing that gave him away. y/n could tell he didn’t want to divulge his stake in the scheme, but it was something personal enough for him to investigate it to this degree. 

Regardless, she decided she should stop pushing her luck. Bruce was right, she didn’t need to know his motivation to get out of this alive. Concentrating on the case once more, she pondered on the evidence he had presented. Gotham was infamous for its drug distribution, and heading those operations was usually Falcone. “So Falcone’s taking the drugs from his competitors in these busts, asking the cops to take half the supply to give to him, and outselling?”

The two continued their discussion of the case, analyzing all the items pinned on the whiteboard. Eventually, they both moved to seat themselves on the floor, allowing the tension to dissipate with every laugh Bruce was able to get out of y/n. Though he didn’t reveal much about himself, and neither did she to him, they both enjoyed tracing the trail formed by the idiocy and carelessness of the crooked cops. 

Before she knew it, the skylight had darkened, preset lights had turned on, and an empty pizza box lay open beside her. She could feel Bruce’s gaze on her, softer than before. A genuine smile painted her face as she looked at him ignoring the butterflies that tumbled in her stomach. There was no denying how handsome Bruce Wayne was. The sharp jaw, slicked-back black hair with a single strand falling in front of his face and sculpted features made him look like the heartthrob of the century. Something about his conviction reminded her of Harvey, how they were both so purposeful. 

He moved his fingers closer to hers, laying them atop hers as used his other hand to pull out a box from his pocket. Presenting the item, he revealed, “I’m sorry about your other phone, but you have to admit, that thing was ancient.”

Smiling, she playfully tapped his arm, feigning offense as she noticed the photo of a phone on the box. He placed it between them and gestured for her to open it. Awed by just how advanced and pricey the phone seemed just from its encasing she protested, “Bruce, I know I said that you owe me a phone but I can’t take this.”

“You’ll have to, how else will anyone be able to hear your angelic voice when you’re not there.” Bruce furiously blushed as the words left his lips, but the ambient light was just warm-toned enough to hide it. y/n, on the other hand, was confused and flustered by the unexpected compliment. She stumbled over her words before sealing her lips shut and surrendering to him.

Opening the box, she was met with the newest, best model of the iPhone on the market. Her jaw was practically on the floor as she gawked at her newest prized possession. She had never had the finances to afford something this beautiful or functional. The sleek surface of the unscratched screen and the undented backing of the phone was truly awing. 

Left speechless, she was barely able to let out her gratuity with an appreciative “Thank you.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Usually, Monday classes were the dullest point of the week. But this time, y/n’s mind was rarely in class. As the teachers began to say their farewells and congratulations to the students for having finally completed high school, y/n lost herself within a mind captured by Bruce Wayne. It wasn’t out of character for her to be alone, so as she daydreamed free from the suspicions of others, y/n began entertaining the possibilities for why Bruce was being nice to her. 

It wasn’t until the end of the day when Harvey had come to accompany her for the practice graduation ceremony that she forced herself out of the trance. It was dangerous to fall for someone so fickle with his partners, much less someone who held her life in his hands. If she upset him, annoyed him, or even irritated him too much, there was not telling what he would do. 

As she filtered into the football field, holding onto Harvey’s shirt so as to not get separated in the crowd, she saw Bruce. Situated by the podium, he had a girl wrapped in his arms. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into him close enough for their noses to touch. For a moment her line of sight was blocked but as the crowd began to die, she saw him kissing her passionately. 

It was no surprise he would have arm candy with him, he always did. But why did it hurt? Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach and her eyes became teary leaving her stupefied. Why did it confuse her so much? 

Despite the discrepancy between her mind and her heart, one thing was clear. Harvey was right: Bruce had a knack for causing pain and how foolish was she to think that she was the only flower in his garden.

˖ ࣪🦇𓆰♡𓆪🦇ִ ࣪⋆

taglist: @earth-to-name

YES YES YES YES YES YES YEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!!!

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: just some angst and then fluff, nothing that would need a special warning

Jeez.. I rewrote the first half of this chapter so many times I can't anymore. I started with the chapter that had 1400+ words and look where we ended up. It took me four days to get it into current version. I really wonder what was flowing in my system that I wrote such a misserable first draft. Maybe I just skipped coffee. Hopefully it finally makes sense😮‍💨

Part XXVIII | Part XXX

Lucien didn't come back after talking with Tamlin. You asked him about the fox boy, but he only muttered that something happened and he had to return to human lands. It was disappointing since you hoped he would stay a bit longer. You liked his cheerful nature and a seemingly endless number of stories.

Without mentioning the conversation they certainly had in the two hours they spent outside, Tamlin stepped closer and hesitantly embraced you for the first time since he rejected your touch in the morning. He leaned his forehead against yours, searching for something in your eyes, his own full of regret. His thumb caressed your cheek as if he was wiping away the tear that had already dried. Only then he apologised for his previous behaviour and tried to make it up to you with a breathtaking kiss.

You really wondered what had happened between the two because since Tamlin returned he was different. It was hard to explain because it wasn't any palpable change, more like a feeling, though it was there. If he was loving and tender before, now he was excessively loving and tender. You would bask in his love and care, if you didn't know any better. The sweetness of his acts was tinged with bitterness that settled inside you and grew with each passing day.

Soon the change became more clearer. There was something wrong with him. He could smile, tease you and cuddle with you as much as he wanted, but the nervous energy and tension was always present. At first he was only occasionally drumming with his fingers, but soon enough he started also pacing a lot, often biting his bottom lip and tapping his foot. He was apparently stressed out.

But why? What caused it? As far as you knew nothing had changed in your lives. You continued with your peaceful simple everyday tasks that he seemed to enjoy before. It was nerve-racking. You tried to help him by making him feel comfortable, preparing delicious food and calming teas. You tried everything you could, however nothing worked.

Soon you were left only with a hope and a believe in love that he expressed so often with every no matter how small a gesture. You wanted to believe in him, but it was hard. His nervousness made you feel uneasy and it got worse and worse.

Lucien promised everything would be fine once he talked with Tamlin. In the weakest moments you wished Lucien never mentioned the wedding, that he never came for a visit. You thought that that was the cause of it all.

You even considered to take out the wedding topic once again, so you could reassure him that you didn't and wouldn't expect anything like that from him. That if he hated the idea of being married so much, you were fully content to continue living with him like this, without any official recognition of your relationship. But, in the end, you were too worried about his reaction and rather decided to throw out the whole idea and bury the words like wedding and marriage so deep that nobody would dig them out.

Tamlin obviously had something he'd like to share with you. However, when you gave him an opportunity to say whatever bothered him aloud, he just brushed it away.

"Is everything okay?"

"Perfectly fine," he always replied. Or, "everything is perfect." Those were the only answers he had for you. Perfect. Perfect. He repeated it so often you started to hate the word.

And on top of all your worries, he everyday disappeared for hour or two, sometimes he was gone even for half a day. Of course, it wasn't something bad and you wouldn't mind it if it wasn't so atypical for him. He was free male and High Lord of this court. He had every right to go wherever he wanted, but during the months you lived together, he had never done anything similar. Definitely not on a daily basis and without telling you what he was up to or where to look for him if necessary.

Each day around the same time, he suddenly stood up, said that he's going hunting and he was gone. He never forgot to return with rabbit or something small, but it was his smell that gave out that it wasn't the only activity he engaged in. You smelled freshly cut wood, earth and paint that lingered on his clothes among the other unfamiliar scents you couldn't decipher. When you asked him about it the first time it happened, he only laughed nervously and quickly changed the topic. It was the first and the last time you tried it. Because if he wanted you to know, he would simply answer the question.

Sadness was consuming you piece after piece until you became dull. You tried to hide it from him, to pretend that everything was as perfect as he'd proclaimed. If only you were a skillful liar. He wouldn't notice anything.

Based on his behaviour it was clear that he not only noticed it but also worried about you. His embraces were firmer and kisses more passionate. He never missed an opportunity to tell you how much he loved you. Moreover after disappearing for hours he even started to bring you flowers as an apology. It was his way of trying to cheer you up, to put a smile on your face. What a pity that it didn't work.

And so you were waiting for him to open up to you until you couldn't take it anymore.

It was after the dinner. All day long, it was quite cold and the evening was even colder. In human lands behind the border was already hard winter and even though an eternal spring reigned in this court, the wind blowing from the south brought some of the coldness in.

As usual, you were seated on Tamlin's lap in embrace of his strong arms, silently watching the dancing flames in hearth. Your mind wandered aimlessly from one thought to another, continuously swirling around him, his sudden change and mysterious behaviour.

The words flowed from your lips before you could stop them.

"Could you, please, tell me what's going on?" you asked him calmly in a small voice. You didn't want to fight. You even wasn't angry. You were just tired, completely exhausted and wanted to know the truth regardless of what it was.

His heart skipped a beat and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He tried to smile. "Nothing. Everything is perfectly fine, love."

You sighed and began to pull away. His embrace tightened, holding you in the place.

"Hey.. Love, where are you going?" he asked lowly, a hint of pain in his voice.

"If you don't want to tell me what's going on, I-" you weren't sure what you wanted to say. You didn't want to give up on him, push him around or give him ultimatum, but this already hurt. And a lot. The uncertainty was slowly killing you.

"Please, don't," he pleaded, tugging you to his broad chest. The tips of his claws slid out, pricking your skin a bit painfully. He was desperate. "Just give me little more time and I will explain everything. For now, just believe in me. Please. I love you so much. I swear it's nothing bad. Really. I actually hope you will like it once you see it. Please.."

You sighed, thinking about it. "Fine," you said at last.

"Just a few more days, love. I know it's already so hard for you, but please, have a little more patience with me," he reassured you again and kissed the crown of your head.

And he did as he promised.

Hardly a week passed since that evening. You were in the kitchen, washing some forest berries that you collected in the morning, when Tamlin returned after two hours of being who-knows-where with a beaming smile. He strolled to you and hugged you from behind, placing a ticklish kiss on the column of your neck followed by gentle nip. Resting his chin on your shoulder he peeked down on your hands.

"What is my pretty little rose doing?" he cooed to your ear happily.

"I thought I would tried to bake a berry pie," you murmured, still not looking at him. You occupied yourself by placing the clean berries on already prepared dough in the baking form.

"Hmm," he kissed the sensitive spot under your ear. "It sounds amazing. How can I help?"

"I'm almost done. Just to bake it."

"Fantastic," he laughed and waited until you placed the last berry and wiped your hands. Then he snapped his fingers. Cake was baked right in front of you. "I think now it's done."

"Tamlin.."

He turned you around and before you could say anything more he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring. Fingers of one of his hands threaded through your hair on the nape of the neck, supporting your head, the other hand travelled down your body and settling on your hip squeezed lightly. When he pulled away, he licked his lips and growled contentedly.

"Love, do you remember when I asked you for a few more days?"

"Yes, I do," you hummed, your head still spinning as an aftermath of his actions.

"It's over. I'm ready to show you. If you still want to know, of course."

You immediately agreed and Tamlin smirking winnowed you to the edge of the forest near his manor. He took your hand in his, squeezing it firmly.

"Would you take a walk with me?"

"And where are we going?"

He just laughed. "You will see soon, my love."

And so you followed him. As soon as you walked past the last of the trees, you got a view of his entire estate. You stopped in awe. Even from a far you could see the change. Gardens were clean and freshly planted, facade of the manor was repaired and painted, new windows reflected sunlight.

Your heart sank and you instantly felt sorry that you ever doubted him.

"Is this where you've been going all that time?" you whispered to the wind, tears stinging your eyes.

"Lucien helped a great deal, but I had to make sure everything will be perfect," he grinned down at you and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from the braid, back behind your ear. "What do you think?"

"It looks much better now. I mean it's beautiful." You swallowed hard and turned to him. "I'm so sorry, Tamlin. I-"

He sealed his lips over yours, silencing you. His kiss was sweet and deep, but he didn't hurry with it, enjoying every second of it. By the time he pulled away, you were weak in your knees, only his arms around your waist still held you upright.

"I am sorry, my love. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I couldn't tell anything. I made you worried and sad because of that. I hope you could find it in yourself to forgive me."

You just shook your head, inhaling his scent and gently drawing circles on his back. You rested your head over his heart and the two of you stood there for some time holding each other, admiring the scenery. Then Tamlin took your hand once again and led you down the hill to the manor. He gave you a tour, starting in spacious gardens and then proceeded inside, showing you different sitting rooms, halls, ballrooms, picture gallery, dining rooms, kitchen and library and at last he showed you some of the smaller bedchambers.

After hours of walking around, at last he took you to the biggest bedchamber that occupied entire top floor. It was a bright complex of connected rooms with up to ceiling windows leading to a private balcony and furnished with light-coloured furniture with a lot of small details.

First you walked into a sitting room with a big hearth and a set of sofas and armchairs placed near it. In one corner of the room was a bookcase full of old looking books, in another was a small counter with everything necessary for making a tea. The room was simply furnished, yet elegant, plants and amounts of blankets and small pillows added to the overall cosy atmosphere that reminded you of your cottage.

Next to it was an actual bedroom. A large bed with cream-coloured sheets dominated to the room. Two sets of doors led to an enormous walk in closet and a bathroom with bathtub big enough for at least two people. Everything was airy, decorated with different kinds of flowers and plants, and overall pleasant to look at.

Tamlin nervously watched you while you took a look around, adding small comments about furnishing and decorations. At the end of the tour he took you out to the private balcony. The view from up there was magnificent. Most of the gardens were visible from there. You couldn't help yourself and got lost in that beauty.

Still nervous Tamlin stood next to you with a light smirk on lips and let you enjoy yourself. After a while he cleared his throat to pull your attention back to him. "So what do you think? Do you like it?"

"It's lovely, Tamlin. You did an amazing job on the house and the gardens as well. Everything is perfect." You chuckled at the word.

"Do you.. do you think you could live in here?" he nervously played with something in his hand, but you couldn't see what it was.

"Live in here? With you?"

"Yes, I mean.." he took your hand, got down on one knee and looked up at you. His emerald eyes shone in last rays of setting sun. He wet his lips nervously before he continued in a slightly trembling voice. "Will you do me the honor and marry me?"

He opened his hand, offering its content to you. In the center of his big palm sat a small heart shaped box with ring in it. It was a simple jewellery, but it perfectly matched the pendant he gave you before.

You let out a shuddering breath. "I-.. I thought you don't want to get married."

"I have to apologise for that. Again." His hand with ring dropped slightly. "I wasn't completely honest back then. And I'm sorry I hurt you. I really didn't mean to. I understand if you decide to reject me. But I want you to know.. You are.. my everything. Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me in my entire life. I want nothing more than for you to become my wife. I'd love to live the rest of my life with you by my side. That's the only thing I sincerely wish and pray for with all my heart."

You couldn't take it anymore, tears sliding down your face. You rushed to his open arms and hugged him with all your strength.

"Tamlin," you cried. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

"Gods, thank you," he whispered to the crook of your neck and his arms closed around you.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, crying and kissing and again crying. After some time Tamlin carried you to the set of sofas. The sun had already set below the horizon and temperature dropped. Tamlin wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

"Can I?" he asked, holding the delicate ring between fingers. You offered him your hand and he slipped it on your ring finger. You held your hand up so both of you could see it.

"It's perfectly perfect," you smiled at him.

He chuckled at your teasing remark.

"Yeah, perfectly perfect. But not as much as you," he kissed you.

Most of the night you spent sitting under the clear night sky full of shinning stars. Later you returned to your cottage to eat already cold dinner that you had prepared earlier, and went straight to the bed. That was the last night you slept in your small cottage in the woods.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

Loving Flames | Part One

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: Amarantha decided to 'gift' you to Eris Vanserra to get back at Rhys. Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, the word whore shows up a few times, (again not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Eris met you when you were 35, years after the war. It was at a High Lords meeting, with your father bringing you along to introduce you to the court. It snapped for Eris in that moment.

You were wearing a spectacular navy blue and silver gown, fabric attached to your shoulders to make it look like a cape. Your wings were tucked in tight behind you to keep from bumping into anyone.

He tried to speak to you that night, tell you about the bond, but his father pulled him away quickly and he didn’t see you again.

The next time he saw you, however, you were by Rhysand’s side in all black, mourning the loss of your father and your mother. And your wings. While Tamlin’s brothers didn’t kill you, they almost did. Taking time with you is what allowed you to live, unfortunately for you.

Eris tried approaching you again, needing to say at least something to you. This time, Azriel, the ever obedient guard dog, growled and told him to leave. These ceremonies were for friends only. Which the Autumn Court was not. That night, Eris gave up on the idea that you and him could be together. He decided to leave you be, and avoid you at all cost.

But then Amarantha came sweeping in. Rhysand brought you to the ball with all of the High Lords when she took their powers. As since Rhysand’s father killed Tamlin’s, she wanted to punish him more than just taking him to bed.

“Beron, which one of these is your heir?” She asked, perched atop the throne. You were standing close to Rhys, his arm around your back. Eris, even though the bond was buried deep down, could feel the nerves radiating down that bridge. You were terrified. That she was going to hurt you. Or Rhys. And what better way than letting your enemy do it or you.

“I am,” Eris spoke before his father could utter a word. His father shot him a deadly look, but Amarantha’s smile widened.

“Good. I’m gifting her to you.” She said and smirked, nodding towards you.

Your eyes widened. Rhys looked to Eris with an even deadlier look than his father, almost saying ‘if you hurt her, you will be killed slowly and I’ll enjoy it.’ Eris stepped forward, soliciting a growl to come from deep within Rhys’s throat.

“Easy, bat, I will be gentle.” He said, unable to drop the mask. He forced his hand to remain steady as he reached it out to you.

You shrunk closer to Rhysand, listening as he leaned down and whispered something not even fae eyes could detect. You looked up to Rhys with pleading eyes.

“Hurry, now, I do not have all day.” Amarantha said, staring at her nails as if she were bored.

With a final nod from Rhysand, you shakily took Eris’s hand.

He did not pull you, instead allowing you to walk with him back to where his father and brothers stood. After that that, he let go of your hand. He promised himself he would protect you, even if you all thought he was a monster. He would never harm you, and never make you do anything you didn’t want to. Not as long as he could help it. His mate. You were under his protection now, and he would be damned if he let anyone harm you ever again.

Deciding to make you suffer even more, since you were the reason Rhysand knew about Tamlin’s brothers hurting you, Amarantha assigned you to a tiny room connected to Eris’s. It didn’t have a fireplace, and it barely fit the small bed that was in it. There was a small room filled with revealing clothing. Specially placed there so you could please Eris, according to her.

But months went by and he did not touch you. He would escort you to court dinners, offering you more food than the small portion you were allowed. You never accepted, eyes always darting for your brother to bring you some sort of comfort. But, Rhys was barely there. If he was, his eyes were cast downwards as Amarantha stroked his arm or his leg, making it clear that Rhys was her obedient dog, her whore. It made you sick to your stomach, but you knew he did it to keep your family safe. So maybe one day you could return to the sanctuary of Velaris.

You flinched slightly as Eris rested a hand on top of yours. “You need to eat, my lady,” he whispered. What seemed to be concern filled his eyes.

“So you can treat me like a pet?” You asked, swallowing your fear.

“So you can survive this.” He said. “I-“ he glanced up as Amarantha stood up to make an announcement. “I will come to your room tonight and I want you to have strength.” He said before she began to speak.

A chill ran down your spine at the thought of what you imagined on your head. You looked down to your plate, taking a small bite of the food. You were no good if you starved yourself. And if you didn’t please Eris like he wanted to, either he or Amarantha would punish you. Probably in front of your brother. Or make him do it.

Eris hummed in agreement to your action, before his attention looked towards Amarantha.

That night, you were shivering in your bedroom. The light set of pajamas doing nothing to keep you warm in the cool room, surrounded by nothing but stone. You perked your head up when the door connecting to Eris’s room opened. He normally used the main one connected to the hall, but tonight he must have wanted to be discrete. Bile rose on your throat in anticipation of what was about to happen, tears welling in your eyes as you body shook from the cold.

“I’m taking you to see your brother.” Eris said quietly. You looked at him, sitting up even more as you curled into yourself more.

“Why?” You asked

Eris’s heart broke at the sight of you, shivering from the cold and near tears from what you imagined he would do. He could be the villain in your story as long as he could keep you safe. But he needed you sane, as well. He would not let you deteriorate under this gods-forsaken mountain.

“Did you not hear Amarantha? She is sending Rhys to do scouting for the next few months. And I’d like for you to get a proper goodbye.” Eris said. “Here,” he said, pulling out the long, wool lined robe for you. “You’ll be warmer in this.” He even warmed it up with his internal heat before he came in here.

You slowly reached out, grabbing it before wrapping it around your body. He saw as you sunk into its warmth, wish that it was him you could find such comfort in.

He held out a hand and you slowly took it. “I’ll need to act like I’m taking you somewhere else, so just stay close and don’t talk.” He whispered before wrapping an arm around your waist. While you would have normally recoiled, you could only lean further into his body heat, much warmer than any you’ve know before. You assumed it was his internal flames burning under his skin, maybe causing his temperature to be much warmer than others. It must have been a nice luxury to have. Though, you were certain he had a fireplace in his room. Not that it would be hard for him to conjure flame anyway.

Eris stole glances at you, hoping that this would make you happier. You hadn’t seen Rhys, at least not at a distance where you could embrace or talk, for at least a year. But Eris knew Rhys would take your unwillingness to eat as Eris forbidding it, or some other malicious thing. Your eyes were sunken, each piece of clothing hung from your body looser as the days passed. You looked tired, exhausted, as if someone was draining the life force from you. No matter how many times Eris had asked, you were never allowed outside with him. Not even on one of the upper balconies. Your punishment for being alive while her friend was dead. It seemed Amarantha wanted to punish you more than Rhys. And Eris was just glad he could be there to protect you from most of her wrath, claiming that his gift shouldn’t be harmed. The things she threatened to do… Eris hoped she wouldn’t figure out you were his mate. Because if she did… even if her and Beron were allies, Eris didn’t think she would spare you much longer.

Eris knocked on a door, one of the shadow wraiths opening it. Your lips turned into a gentle smile as you greeted Nuala, happy to see a familiar face.

At the site of you, Nuala stepped aside. Rhys had bruises all around his neck, where he was staring at them in the mirror. You swallowed and looked up at Eris.

“Five minutes.” He said and stepped back, nodding at you to go in. You tentatively took a step inside, and once you were over the threshold, Nuala shut the door. Rhys turned, his eyes widening as he finally took account of who was in the room.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out rushing over to you. He looked you over, frowning at how poorly you looked. He cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes. Searching for the carefree little sister he knew. “Are you okay? How did you get here?” He asked.

Rhys must have put a shield around the room before Nuala opened the door, if he did not know Eris brought you here.

“I’m fine… I wanted to say goodbye. You are leaving for the outside soon.” You said, your voice quiet and weak. If Amarantha was trying to torture Rhys, she was doing a good job at it.

“Has he hurt you?” He asked.

You shook your head, wanting to say how well Eris was treating you. But the look on Rhys’s eyes told you he wouldn’t believe you. Maybe you needed to make more of an effort to be involved in this ridiculous, cruel court. But would that make you any better than Beron? Would it help you? Would it help your brother?

Rhys pulled you in for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his chest, burying your head in it. “Please come back.” You whispered, holding him tighter.

“I will never leave you here.” He whispered, rubbing your back. “And I will do everything I can to get you away from him.” He said as he pulled away.

“Did Amarantha do this?” You asked as you traced the small circular bruises on his neck.

“She likes to mark her whores.”

You frowned, looking up at the cold look in his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” You whispered. “I want you to know that… you are doing what is right for our family. And I’m so proud that I can call you my brother.”

You could see the words didn’t hit like you wanted them to… and your heart sank at the thought of Rhys not thinking he was doing enough. Or that he wasn’t good enough. “I will see you soon, (Y/N).” He said, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

You glanced at the time on the clock, then noticed Rhys had a balcony to go outside. “Fly for me, brother.” You whispered before stepping back. “I will see you soon.” You said before turning around and walking out of the room. You gave Nuala another smile before finding Eris with his back against the opposite hallway wall.

You walked up to him and took a quiet, internal breath. “I’d like new clothes.” You said to him.

His rose his eyebrows, shocked at your sudden urge to talk to him. “Excuse me?” It came out more rude than he meant it, but didn’t let that show.

“I-“ you started and then took a visible deep breath. “If I am to be your gift, I want to be presentable. I would like new clothes.” You said. You had no intention of doing anything for Eris, and the more you could avoid him, the better. But if Amarantha thought Eris favored you, maybe she would let you out. Maybe you could fool her into thinking you were enjoying it. And maybe that would be enough for her to let you leave your room by yourself.

“Okay.” Eris said.

It was your turn to be shocked. You thought you would need to convince him a lot more than that.

“Give me a list of clothes you’d like, and I’ll see what I can do.” He answered, then held out his arm. “Now come, you must be tired.” He said.

You tentatively took his arm, still slightly shocked that he didn’t dismiss you. This male that you knew to be cruel and abusive was nothing but kind, gentle, and patient with you. You started to piece together the times you interacted with him, and couldn’t think of a single time were he was mean. Maybe distant, cold, but plenty of faeries were like that. Your brother was like that a lot of the times. It was a mask to keep him safe. Maybe Eris was the same. Maybe you could trust him.

You faltered as he did not stop at your door, but kept walking a few more steps to his. You looked up at him and watched as he opened the door and lead you inside. Maybe you didn’t escape what you dreaded earlier today.

“It’s warmer in here. If you’d like, you can sleep in here. I can take your room.” He said.

You frowned. “What?”

“Every time I see you, you are freezing. And it’s because Amarantha put you in a room that is meant to be a cooler. Why it’s attached to a bedroom, I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s the proper place for the Princess of the Night Court to sleep.”

“But… won’t you get cold?” You asked, glancing to the door that connected the rooms.

“I run hot.” He said, a slight smirk coming to his lips.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked.

“Maybe it will be beneficial to me later on.” He said and shrugged. “But I cannot bring myself to harm you.” He said. “In anyway.”

And he showed it. From then on, you stayed in his room. Soon enough, you offered him to come to your room too. Even with the fire, you were still cold. You supposed it was the lack of food, of sunlight, of fresh air. It was not good for your body. So, you asked him to join you in the bed. Just to sleep. And he obliged, staying on his side of the bed. Until one night, where you were particularly cold after a ‘winter’ ball was thrown.

You turned over to Eris, who seemed to be asleep. You were in an oversized sweater and some loose pants. Courtesy of your wardrobe he provided for you. “Eris?” You whispered.

His head turned towards you as he opened one eye, a small smile coming to his lips.

He would act like this whenever you were alone. When no one could see you, he would show you a soft side. A side that had you wondering where all the cruel things said about him came from. This couldn’t be the same male that left your cousin for dead in the Autumn forest. He was so different than how Mor described him. If he was helping you, why wouldn’t he help her?

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You weren’t even technically a princess, but he insisted on using the nickname. You were surprised it didn’t bother you.

“Can you… make the fire warmer? I’m cold.” You said quietly.

His eyes flickered to the burning hearth before looking back at you. “Can I try something before?” He asked.

You searched his eyes and, as usual, found no malice. Maybe a hint of mischief, if you detected it correctly. You gave him a nod, narrowing his eyes as he asked for you to turn on your side. Your back facing him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked when he noticed your hesitance. You paused at the question. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing for months. Almost a year now. Could you trust Eris? “Remember what I said? I won’t hurt you.” He said.

You slowly took a deep breath, turning your body so your back was facing him. You tensed up when you felt him shift on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling her closer to his warm body. “What- what are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m going to make you warm.” He whispered in l your ear, the breath sending a shiver down your spine. In the best way.

Suddenly, you felt his hand settling on your bicep, and your arm instantly warmed up. You relaxed into the warm, smiling to yourself.

“Is this better?” He asked, rubbing your arm up and done as he held you close.

“Much.” You answered, even leaning into his chest more.

Eris became your anchor Under the Mountain after that. You often found yourself clutching his bicep, not wanting to be far from him. He stayed true to his word. He would not hurt you. And, apparently, he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you either. One day, you were in the throne room as the court reveled, sitting on a loveseat while you waited for Eris to bring you something to drink. One particularly drunk made stumbled his way to sit next to you and got too close for your liking. Right as he was about to wrap an arm around you, Eris hauled him out of the seat. He pushed him back and said something with a growl you couldn’t hear, and then the male was running out of the room. Not many males approached you after that.

Maybe it was because your brother was gone for so long, or maybe it was because Eris was genuine to you. Even when you were out of the room, when he wore that cool uninterested mask, he was gentle with you. His touch was never too tight or too harsh. Was never too high or too low. He made you comfortable. You were starting to like him. As a friend, at least.

For the next 40 years, you were always around him. Even when Amarantha gave you more freedom, you wanted to be near Eris. Rhys started to notice, but didn't say anything as it was only apparent for your affection to his enemy before Summer, Winter, and Day rebelled. And then Amarantha's reign became increasingly strict. With only High Lord dead, and a new one taking his place, there was more tension than ever. Especially because anyone who was caught doing anything suspicious was whipped or tortured in front of the court. Sometimes, your brother would be the one to hold their minds and do it.

However, after finding out that Autumn and Night had nothing to do with the rebellion, she decided to be nice one day and allow you to the upper levels. She gave you in particular one rule, do not go outside. You couldn't help but watch as your brother went out on one balcony. And on the other, Beron and his sons were laughing. Actually laughing. It was only one month when the High Lord of Summer was killed and a bunch of Winter children were closed. Children. And Amarantha was celebrating you all.

Eris, however, was sat across from you on the couch. He noticed the way you longed to go outside, realizing while he was allowed out to visit his court with his father, you were stuck Under the Mountain. You hadn't been outside in more than 40 years.

"You should go, celebrate." You muttered, motioning to his family. "You may not be able to leave for along time." You said, frowning as you looked to your hands.

"I'm just fine in here." Eris said, resisting the urge to lean over and grab your hand. While you never crossed a line of being intimate, or anywhere near it, you had become friendly with Eris. You were more than glad to curl into his side at night, hold his hand at the dining table, or grab his arm while you walked around the passageways.

Before you could suggest it again, one of Eris's brothers peeked his head into the room. "Eris, bring your whore in here." He said.

You internally winced at the term, and Eris glared at his brother. While many people had called you the same, Eris normally corrected them. Especially his brothers.

"She isn't my whore." He growled out. "And if you call her that one more time, Sol, and I will rip your throat out." He said. "Besides, you know she can't go outside."

"Ah, Amarantha will never know." Sol said and smirked. "We'll distract the bat, you take her out there for some alone time." He said, making his way over to the balcony where Rhys was standing. As Sol pulled him inside, you could visibly see and hear Rhys's growl. He didn't want to be here, but if he could watch you amongst the Vanserras, he would.

"Sol-" Eris called out but groaned when him and one of the other brothers pushed Rhys out to talk to Beron and the Lady of Autumn. About what, you didn't really care. You stayed in your seat, taking a deep breath.

"I could at least open the door." He said and stood up, going over to the free balcony and opening the door to let in the breeze. You stood up, standing in front of the threshold. You closed your eyes as you felt the wind on your face, even if it was light.

The smile that came to your lips took Eris's breath away. Even in this terrible place, you could still find small bits of joy.

You looked down at the gap between you and the rest of the world, Eris standing on the other side. "Thank you." You said quietly to him, holding out your hand for him to take. He squeezed your hand, fighting the urge to pull you over the threshold and into his chest. He could image your giggle and scolding before you stepped back into the room. But before he could answer you, Amarantha burst through the doors with two of her sentries.

"Seems like the little princess can't follow the rules... Ah, Eris, are you trying to disobey my command?" She asked.

Your eyes widened and you immediately dropped Eris's hand. "I didn't go outside." You said quickly.

"No, but you were about to. And Eris was going to help you." She said. Rhys and the others came in.

"Now that I ponder it, I do remember hearing about the two of you sneaking around the passage ways months ago. That wasn't to spy, was it?" She asked. "Acting as lust-crazed fools?"

You never once showed any interest in Eris like that, and yet everyone just assumed the two of you were sleeping together. Or more like Eris was fucking you as he pleased.

"Nothing to say? Too bad." She said and nodded towards the sentries, one of them grabbing you and the other grabbing Eris. Rhys lunged forward to try and protect you, but Eris's brother's grabbed him.

"Relax, bastard, no one's going to hurt the princess." Sol teased.

"What is the meaning of this, my queen?" Beron asked, the ever-loving servant. His wife next to him looked completely uninterested other than a hint of worry for her son.

"We will make sure Eris and the princess never sneak around again." She said, giving a small wave before walking out of the room.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the throne room with Eris on his knees. One of Amarantha's sentries had a whip in his hands. "This is what you get for disobeying my command. And you get to watch princess, for luring him like you did the former High Lord of Spring." She said.

You looked at Eris, then at Rhys, pleading him with your eyes to do something, anything to stop this from happening. Rhys just tilted his head and stood beside Amarantha. Of course he thought Eris tried to pull you out and he would gladly see Eris punished over you.

The sound of the whip rang out, skin ripping underneath it. Beron and his other sons stood, stoically watching the punishment.

"How many month ago was it? 5? You've been sneaking around 5 months?" She asked. You weren't even sneaking around, you were simply walking. "5 more." She said and you struggled against the sentries holding you back. "Oh and another 5 for all those months lying to me." She said.

More sounds of the whip. More skin ripping. You watched as Eris clenched his teeth, never yielding a yell or scream. Like he had endured this before. You, on the other hand, were silently crying. You desperately tried to hold back your tears, but you couldn't.

After the final sound of the whip crack rang out, Eris sagged to the floor. "And 10 more, because I don't like hurting my friends." She said.

"Stop!" You screamed, an instinctual tug at your gut telling you he would bleed out if he received any more. "I'll do anything, stop this. Eris didn't do anything wrong." You begged, the sentries yanking you back as your legs almost gave out from under you.

Rhys shot you a look that essentially told you to shut your mouth, but you didn't see it. You were staring into Amarantha's cold eyes.

"Anything?" She asked. When you let out a whimper and nodded, a side smirk came to her red lips. "What about agreeing to be locked in sweet Eris's room under I die?" She asked. "Seems like a fair trade, since you disobeyed my command of not going outside. And you can't roam the halls with him either."

You let out a gulp, hearing a small whisper from Eris telling you not to do it. "So long as you, or anyone of your behalf, hurts him again. I will stay in his room." You said.

"Unless I command you out to court, you will stay in his room. And I, nor anyone on my behalf, will not hurt him. Until I die." She said.

You stood up straighter, feeling Rhys's eyes on you. "We have a bargain." You said.

"That we do." She said as you used your magic to imprint a tattoo on your back, right where Eris's scars would be. In doing so, you did the same for Amarantha, who only smirked more. "Take him to a healer. And take her to the room." She said. You stumbled as they pushed you towards the giant doors. You watched as Eris's sagging body was hauled up by his brothers, nearly sobbing at the sight of him.

As the sentries pushed you through Eris's room's door and shut it behind you, you suddenly realized what you agreed to. You were going to be trapped in this room forever. Unless she wanted to torment you more. Or she died.

What did you just do?

Part Two

A/N: This was so much longer than I expected and it's not even finished yet.. There will be at least another part! Hope you all enjoyed!

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