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spideyjimin · 6 months ago

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Bloodlines entwined: I | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 7,213

— warnings: strong language, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of blood, several mentions of abortion, and crying

— author’s note: here it is the first chapter of this series! <3 i’m actually very excited about this entire universe, i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve been taking my time to write each part 🤗 the beginning is inspired by Jane the Virgin and the Flash as they are both my favorite shows ✨ i hope you’ll enjoy this part & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 😊

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Chapter I: when worlds collide

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Sitting in your car, you’ve been looking blinkingly at the windshield, hands trembling against the steering wheel. For ten whole minutes, you’ve been frozen like this as if moving would shatter the fragile sense of calm you’ve barely managed to hold together.

Your life is about to drastically change; you know it deep down.

“The deed is done,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, and your reflection in the rearview mirror catches your eye. You look exhausted, your eyes wide and glistening.

For two years, this moment has been building. You have thoughtfully considered having a child on your own. At first, it was just a random thought that crossed your mind, a curiosity born on one of those quiet, lonely moments where life felt both too much and not enough. Then, you deeply thought about it. The idea rooted itself deep within you, anchoring into something raw and tender: a longing to create a family on your own terms.

After much research and consideration, you decided to go for it.

Many people couldn’t understand your choice, but honestly, you don’t give two shits about others’ opinions. What did matter to you was the support of close family and friends.

Felix, the man who raised you after your parents were stolen from you, proposed to accompany you to the fertility clinic, but you gently declined his offer. This was something you wanted to do by yourself. Well, you just came alone to be inseminated. Other than that, he has been by your side every step of the way.

He helped you to go through the countless donor profiles, and every document needed for this adventure of yours.

The process was a bit long and emotionally draining. The first steps were more like an evaluation, mostly for the clinic to understand your reasons and ensure you’ve deeply thought about all the aspects. Having a kid alone isn’t just about fulfilling your dreams but also about building a life for a child.

Once you’ve successfully completed those steps, you had to choose the donor. There were a lot of choices; it was like going grocery shopping. You were handed a catalog of potential donors with their medical histories and first names. It felt odd to be choosing the progenitor like this. After going through every profile, one of them stood out.

Following the donor selection, your cycles and hormone levels were tracked. When all was good, you’d get inseminated on your ovulation period, which technically is happening this week.

So, ten minutes ago, you walked out of the clinic after being artificially knocked up.

If your egg is fertilized, in nine months, you’ll welcome your very much desired baby. A tiny human who will call you mom. You already picked the names, one for a girl, one for a boy. You simply can’t wait to welcome a tiny human in your life. Hopefully, the life of your baby will be better than yours.

You lean your head against the steering wheel, closing your eyes as the ghosts of your past surface.

Twenty years ago, your life was turned upside down when a terrible murderer put an end to your parents’ lives. Nobody ever found him or her; it’s like the person completely vanished into the night. That person left behind a little girl with questions nobody could ever answer and scars nobody could understand.

Since you didn’t have any family left, you were raised by your father’s best friend, Felix. Over time, he became like a second father to you. Even though you were full of anger when he took you over, he stayed by your side and helped you navigate this sad reality; one where your parents weren’t part of anymore.

His daughter, Lexi is your age. You were already so close, and living under the same roof brought you even closer. She’s your super best friend, almost like a sister today. A smile grows on your face as you think of her. Your life would have been a nightmare without her.

Lexi was the first person to be aware of this desire to become a single mother. She even pushed you to do it as soon as you could, and she has encouraged you like nobody else. She also helped you select a donor; she even made fun of the names of some of them.

Your phone buzzes; the name and picture of Lexi appearing on the screen.

“Hi,” you say when you pick up.

“Soo,” she says. “How did it go?”

“Good, I guess?” you say with clear hesitation. “The doctor just inserted a thin catheter, looked at the screen, and said it was done,” you explain. “Now we just have to wait.”

Waiting is now the worst part, especially since you decided not to take any pregnancy test until the next appointment. Meaning, you have to wait two full weeks.

“Let’s hope the donor’s little swimmers are good ones,” she says.

While you always wanted to have a kid, Lexi never wanted one. You and her are total opposites but that’s what helped create such a strong bond between you. “Yeah, let’s hope for that,” you smile.

Two weeks later

A couple of days ago, you took a blood test, and now, you’re in the waiting room, patiently waiting for the doctor to call you up.

These past two weeks, you’ve been internally battling to take a pregnancy test. It’s been hard to fight the urge to discover beforehand if you’re expecting or not. On your way to the clinic, your heart was beating extremely fast with nervousness. Even the music playing in the car didn’t seem to calm you down.

Even though you’re extremely nervous, a part of you knows. You can’t explain it, but you feel it deep down. Two nights ago, you were lying in bed completely exhausted after an intense day at work. The rhythm of your heartbeat was rocking you to sleep. Amidst the thrum of your own heart, you swear you could hear a faint, smaller, and quicker rhythm.

You instantly opened your eyes, scanning the room. The sound wasn’t coming from outside. It felt like it was inside you. You stayed perfectly still, listening to that tiny sound. That night, you were rocked to sleep by that new rhythm.

The morning after, as you caught your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, something felt off. Your brows furrowed as you noticed your own scent was different. It felt like it was mixed with somebody else’s scent, but it wasn’t as strong as yours or any other living human. It was extremely odd.

After a little while, the doctor says your name, and with shaky legs, you walk to her office. Your heart is beating at a very crazy pace, ready to burst at any moment. This is so stressful; it feels like time is moving so slowly.

“Hello yn,” the doctor smiles at you while you’re entering the room. “How have you been feeling?” you now take a seat.

“I’m good, thanks,” you smile back at her.

She sits down at her desk and takes a look at her computer.

“So, did you take any pregnancy test?” she asks.

“No, no,” you answer. “I wanted to keep the surprise for today.”

“I see,” she looks again at her screen before taping on her keyboard.

She seems to quickly read something before her smile widens. Your heart is going completely crazy. It really makes you nervous, and you try to mentally prepare yourself to receive the bad news as well. It’ll definitely break your heart but you’ll try again.

This entire process is quite expensive, but the payment can be spread out over time rather than made in one shot. With this first payment, you have the right to three attempts. If pregnancy isn’t achieved after those attempts, you’ll have to go through another round and pay for additional attempts.

The doctor mentioned that usually, it takes about three to six attempts to achieve a successful pregnancy. Hopefully, you’ll get pregnant within those first three tries. You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to afford another round of insemination.

“Well, it looks like it only took you one try to conceive,” she informs you.

And right there, your heart bursts with joy. There’s indeed a little human being growing inside you. You’ll become a mother in nine months. You can’t believe it.

A little tear runs down your face as you hear the good news. It’s such a relief. You won't have to worry about coming back for another round.

“That’s good news,” you clean the tear on your cheek.

“It is indeed,” she says. “In four weeks more or less, we’ll plan an ultrasound to confirm the embryo’s implantation and check for a heartbeat,” she adds.

Well, you’ll still get worried about that because maybe until there, your baby will not survive. But you need to remain positive. No need to start stressing about it; you promised yourself that you’ll try to remain calm the entirety of the process and pregnancy so you’ll offer a great beginning of life to your baby.

“I’m very hopeful everything will go well because both you and the donor are in good health,” she says.

“Let’s hope for that,” you answer.

You then proceed to schedule the next appointment in four weeks. You can’t hide the immense smile on your face. This is the best news you got today. Nothing else will ever be possible to ruin this day.

When you leave the clinic, you instantly call Lexi.

“I AM PREGNANT!” you scream with excitement.

“Yeeeah,” she screams as well. “I’m going to be an aunty!” she adds.

“I’m so relieved that this first attempt was successful,” you admit.

Once you get inside your car, you touch your belly to caress it.

“That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother,” she says after. “And even more lucky to join our family.”

For sure, your family will extremely love this baby. It’s such a desired baby, and everybody has been so excited.

“They’ll be so loved,” you reply.

“There’s absolutely no doubt,” she says. “Dad will be so happy about this news; he’s been so excited to become a grandpa.”

Felix has expressed lately that he couldn’t wait to welcome a baby and become a granddad. This man has raised you for twenty years, and you consider him as a second father. There’s no doubt that your baby will see him as their grandfather even if, biologically speaking, he isn’t.

When you hang up, you stare into the void for a couple of minutes. In this moment, you wish your parents would be here. They would have been so happy to become grandparents, but they won’t be by your side for this new chapter of your life.

They are also the reason why you’re doing all of this. Since they passed, there’s been a tremendous emptiness inside you that even the love of Felix couldn’t fill in. This void stems mostly from the fact that you were left alone when they were killed. You’ve been feeling so lonely since then.

Throughout your life, you tried to fill it with relationships but they all failed. As far as you can remember, you wanted to follow the traditional path to build a family. However, it never worked out. Then, one day, you saw a brochure about single mothers, and you’ve been thinking about it since then.

You’ve seen motherhood as a role that will fill this emotional void you’ve been carrying for years. Plus, you’ve also seen it as a way to finally control your life. Twenty years ago, someone decided for you what your life would become. This wasn’t fair.

And you also want to give your baby the life you never got. You want to give them a loving family that won’t disappear the second the parents die. Outside of your parents, you didn’t have a family. Based on what Felix told you, your grandparents were against your parents' relationship so they moved into another city to live freely and build a family.

Life hasn’t been fair for you, but you want to make it fair for your baby.

Two weeks later

The clinic called you this morning to urgently come in the afternoon, only making you grow concerned during the day. You kept wondering what the reason for such urgency would be. Did they notice something when they did the blood test? Did they get the wrong blood test? Are you even really pregnant?

However, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re carrying a life inside you. You haven’t had the ‘normal’ early symptoms yet, but you can feel your baby inside you. The faint heartbeat can still be heard, and there’s still that subtle scent interwoven with yours.

For the past two weeks, you’ve repeatedly inhaled this new scent, almost to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Most of the time, you wondered if it wasn’t something like blood, sweat, or the smell of your new shampoo. It was definitely an earthly one. One that only a human can possess.

Once inside the clinic, you’re instantly installed in the doctor’s room. Your heart is crazily beating inside your chest; you’re so nervous right now. Seconds later, a man joins you in the room.

At first glance, you’d think he is the CEO of a huge company. He’s fully dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, his hands casually placed in his pants pockets. This man is extremely charismatic; something about him draws you in.

The man looks at you while frowning, his eyes moving from your eyes to your belly. By reflex, you cover your stomach with your hands. He’s making you uncomfortable with his intense stare.

He has a very strong bestial scent, it predominates his cologne. Everything about him is imposing, even the way his heart beats; it’s so calm while yours is completely erratic. The man’s eyes are clued on you.

The doctor arrives right after and closes the door behind her. Her face is quite serious; she even seems concerned.

“Miss y/l/n,” she takes a seat at her desk. “Mister Jeon,” she looks at the man behind you. “Please take a seat.”

The two of you sit down next to each other with apprehension. You can hear his heart beating a little faster, but he remains extremely calm on the outside.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The doctor pauses, giving you time to absorb the gravity of the statement. Her tone is gentle, but at the same time professional.

The sterile, cold walls of the room seem to close in around you as the doctor’s words pierce through your thoughts.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” your breath is caught in your throat, your hands trembling. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

Your eyes look at the man sitting next to you. All you can see in his eyes is the same disbelief that reflects your own. So, this is your child’s father.

Many questions cross your mind, but they remain unspoken, lodged in your throat.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

You desired nothing more than being alone in this adventure; you didn’t want a present father. That was the whole point of a donor. Now, you know the father of your child, and he’d probably like to be present.

For the past months, you went through a series of questions regarding the fact that you’ll raise your child alone. They asked you many times how you’d explain to your child that they don’t have a father. This now feels like a complete waste of time.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment’s costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

Those words seem so heavy and yet, they represent the reality of the choice you now have to face. A knot tightens in your stomach at the thought of undoing something you wished for so long. The baby is now growing inside of you, you’ve got used to falling asleep with their tiny heartbeat. The only thought of not having it anymore breaks your heart beyond comprehension.

Right now, everything—your carefully constructed plans, your hopes, the small life growing inside you—seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Mister Jeon is silent beside you, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He seems as stunned as you, but you can’t help but think that there’s something else there too. Something deeper and darker.

You ignore if he’s thinking the same thing as you, but you can feel it: the strange twist of fate pulling you both into an unknown world, one you both hadn’t planned for.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

Time seems irrelevant now. There’s a choice you need to make; a choice you didn’t expect to face. You swallow hard, your heart racing inside your chest. Your hands caress your belly through your shirt while you only hear the baby’s fragile heartbeat.

This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t be real.

Jungkook’s face went pale as the doctor’s words sank in.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

Just like you, the room’s white walls feel suffocating, the air thick with a tension he can’t shake. A mistake. His mistake. He tried to avoid this situation. He was supposed to go through surrogacy to guarantee a child that would uphold his lineage. His werewolf lineage, pure and untouched by human blood.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” the doctor’s words hang up in the air like a death sentence. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

His eyes quickly look at you, and he notices how much you’re shaking. It seems like you’re in a more devasted state than he is.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

Jungkook blinks, trying to absorb what is happening. A human child. Nonetheless, his child. Having children with humans isn’t just a personal choice; it’s a fundamental rule of the werewolf society. The very foundation of his power as the king depends on the purity of his bloodline. To break the rule is to risk everything.

He knows better than anyone what happens to the werewolf-human hybrid kids together with the parents. They are killed by the pack. Being a king doesn’t make him the exception to the rule. If this pregnancy goes to full term, not only will he be killed, but the baby and the lady sitting next to him will too.

You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t deserve to die because of a mistake.

His gaze filled with frustration and panic moves toward you once more as his pulse quickens. He wanted control over the situation. He never intended to father a hybrid child. And now, not only is he involved in this pregnancy, but the child is going to carry his blood mixed with human genetics. God only knows what can happen to this kid, genetically speaking.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

‘This can’t be happening’, he thinks.

His eyes move back to the doctors, his hands clenched into fists. The thought of the entire werewolf community learning of this is unbearable. And what is his mother going to think of this?

She was the first person to support him in this surrogacy journey. She knew how important it was for him to have a child as soon as possible because he’d been struggling to find someone with whom he’d mate. Having an heir is the first thing a king should do to ensure the legacy.

Now, he’s about to have a child with a human. That’s not possible. This child won’t have a pure bloodline, this child can’t ever be an heir.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

The idea of termination seems dreadful, but the possibility of a hybrid child heir seems even worse. His responsibility as king, and the traditions that have been in place for centuries don’t allow for such breach. To raise a kid with human blood would mean instant disgrace, not only for him but for his entire family. How could he even be respected after this?

His entire world is slipping through his fingers. His position as king is now in jeopardy. This baby will destabilize the entire werewolf community. Nobody will respect him and will only see him as weak. Weak for having a human child.

There’s no going back. His mind tries to find a solution to fix this, or how to undo this. The idea of raising a child with a human—no matter how much it is his responsibility—is unthinkable. He never desired this and hasn’t even considered it. He has been so focused on maintaining his bloodline that the idea of a mistake happening never crossed his mind.

Your presence beside him destabilizes him beyond comprehension. He can see the confusion in your eyes mixed with disbelief. You can’t comprehend the extension of this entire problem. You can’t even comprehend the danger of mixing bloodlines, because you aren’t a werewolf.

Jungkook stands in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Terminating this pregnancy isn’t something he desires, but having a child with a human is simply impossible. His heart beats too crazily, and he can hear yours beating just as fast. His heart and duty are pulling him in two different directions.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. His voice is soft but it carries a heavy weight. “We need to decide. This affects both of us.”

After what felt like an eternity, you both leave the room completely shaken up by the news you just got. How could this be happening?

As you’re both walking in the clinic in the parking lot’s direction, none of you dares to speak. You’re a complete stranger to Jungkook. All he knows is that you’re a human carrying his child.

“I can’t have that child,” he finally breaks the silence.

His words cause you to stop.

“It’s too early for me to consider terminating this pregnancy,” you admit. “I need time.”

Jungkook understands your perspective. It’s not a decision you lightly take, especially if you’ve come to this clinic to have a child. It’d be completely absurd to abort after going through this entire process.

“Of course,” he says. “But I want you to know my point of view.”

You nod, understanding his perspective as well. This is such a horrible situation. Jungkook wanted to have an heir while you simply wanted to have a child on your own. On top of that, he doesn’t look like the donor you selected.

“So if I decide to keep it, would you be out?” you ask.

Jungkook considers your words. There’s a possibility that the baby could still exist, but he wouldn’t be part of their life. He’d still be losing because he wants a child, but at least this way, his position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and no one would get hurt or killed.

“It’s possible,” he honestly answers.

You nod once more. Even though he decides not to be part of his child’s life, he’d still know that he has a kid somewhere. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding you; he already knows your smell, and he has the means to find you.

“Okay,” you say.

Jungkook watches you take a pen and paper from your purse before writing something.

“This is my phone number,” you hand him the piece of paper. “In case you change your mind or take a decision.”

The man takes the piece of paper while you give him a small smile. You start walking away, his eyes following you until you disappear inside a car.

In this situation, he definitely would like to ask his mother for advice, but he can’t. He already knows the answer she’ll give him. ‘This baby can’t exist.’ And she’s right, but he can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy. It’s your body after all.

In the eventuality that you decide to proceed with the pregnancy, he guesses he’ll let you be a mother alone and pretend like this kid doesn’t exist.

You’ve spent the last two days crying in bed. The conversation with the doctor and this mysterious Mister Jeon has been playing over and over in your head. You can still picture everything so clearly; the white walls of the doctor’s room, the apologies from the doctor, and Mister Jeon’s piercing gaze.

‘There’s been a mistake,’ ‘There was a mix-up with the sample,’ the words still echo in your mind.

You’ve been trying to make sense of how such a monumental mistake has happened. But nothing seems to make sense. The clinic did this; the clinic took control over your decision. This chapter of your life was about you gaining control, but once more, someone decided for you. It’s been making you angry.

You’re furious at the clinic and their negligence. You trusted them with your project of building your own family. However, they decided otherwise.

But underneath that anger, there’s another fury; one directed to yourself. You were so focused on having a child on your own terms that you didn’t stop to consider the what-ifs. You didn’t stop to consider that something might go wrong. And now, you are here.

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours now, your mind trying to find a solution. Do you keep this baby? Do you terminate the pregnancy?

This choice feels impossible. It feels like no matter what your life will completely change.

But deep down, you somehow feel some kind of relief. Because when Mister Jeon—this intense and charismatic man—said there was a possibility he’d walk away, that he’d leave you to raise this child alone, you felt lighter.

His potential absence is appealing. It aligns with your original choice, to be a single mother. A choice where your child is yours, and yours alone. But then, there’s also a possibility where he stays, or that he comes back later. What would happen then?

You press your hands against your face while a guttural growl leaves your lips. This is so damn frustrating. This should be simple. Because now, you’re left wondering what you want. Do you want to walk away from this and stick to the original plan? Or do you want to embrace this chaos, and see where this might lead?

Your hands slide down to your stomach, caressing it while you hear again the tiny heartbeat. This sound comforts you which makes you close your eyes.

For now, you don’t have any answers to all your questions. You’re not even sure you’ll have them tomorrow. For now, you’ll let yourself breathe. You’ll let yourself feel. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the answers.

The sound of your phone ringing pushes you out of your own thoughts, informing you that you received a message. You sit on your bed before grabbing the phone on the nightstand. You received a message from an unknown number. By curiosity, you unlock your phone to read it. To your surprise, it’s the famous and mysterious Mister Jeon.

From unknown: hi miss y/l/n, this is jeon jungkook, the father of your child. i’d like to meet you to discuss the matter. would you be free tonight?

Your heart hammers inside your chest, ready to burst at any second. He contacted you sooner than expected. You were thinking that you wouldn’t hear anything from him for at least a week. You thought you’d have more time to make a decision before meeting him. Now, it seems you don’t, and that you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him tonight.

With shaky hands, you start typing your answer.

To unknown: hello mister jeon, we could meet tonight

When you press ‘send’, you stare at the conversation, waiting for an answer. Mister Jeon responds instantly to your message, proposing to meet in a town square. You accept the suggestion and quickly go to your clothes cupboard to pick up an outfit.

The man seems very impressive, and you want to be presentable. He’s after all the progenitor of the life growing inside you.

A couple of hours later, you take the road to the meeting point. Surprisingly, you’ve remained calm for the entire drive. Driving is actually the only thing able to calm your tormented soul. Whenever you go through something very intense, you just drive to clear your mind.

However, since this pregnancy thing, even driving hasn’t been able to help you out. You tried to drive yesterday, but it only made things worse. So it definitely surprises you that you’ve been able to clear your mind before meeting Mister Jeon.

When you arrive, he’s already there waiting for you. He’s not wearing a suit, quite the contrary. His outfit is only made of a grey sweater with a blue pair of jeans. His hair isn’t perfectly pushed back as it was two days ago. It feels like you’re meeting a completely different person.

When he sees you, he stands up. As he does so, you notice he holds a box in his right hand. It’s a small one, but it still intrigues you.

“Good evening, miss y/l/n,” he says.

“Good evening, mister Jeon,” you say back.

His presence is still very imposing, but the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit anymore changes it a bit. He seems more approachable than he was in the clinic.

“Please call me Jungkook,” he offers you a small smile.

It’s the first time you see him smiling, and it feels like a very warm one. Beneath it all and in the midst of the city noise, you can perceive his heartbeat. It’s quite rapid which makes you tilt your head. Is he nervous?

“You can call me yn as well,” you smile back at him.

“I’ve brought you a box with some pastries,” he hands you the box. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Your smile grows wider at his simple but heartwarming gesture. This wasn’t expected, but it lightens the mood. Jungkook seems to be a nice person which contrasts with the cold and unreadable person he seemed two days ago.

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the little box. “You didn’t need to,” your eyes look up at him.

After that, you both sit down on the bench he was on before you arrived. By the way he rubs his hands on his tights, you can tell that he’s a bit nervous. You try not to overanalyze him, because you know your mind will go crazy, full of questions.

“What is happening is really crazy,” he admits with obvious nervousness. “I never imagined things would go this way,” you nod.

Jungkook looks everywhere, except at you. It seems like he isn’t brave enough to face you, almost like a teenager confessing his love.

“As I told you two days ago, I can’t have this child,” he finally speaks. “I really would love to, but I’d put the three of us in danger.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. What does he mean by ‘putting you in danger’? Does he come from a crazy family? Is he part of the mafia? This is scaring the hell out of you.

“We didn’t know each other up until two days ago, and you don’t deserve to be put in danger because of a stupid mistake the clinic did,” he seems angry when he mentions the mistake. “But I can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your body, and it was also your wish to have a child. I can’t take that away from you.”

It kind of surprises you how respectful he is. Any other man in his position could have forced or paid you to put an end to this pregnancy. It’s really admirable.

“In case you want to keep going with it, I just want you to know that I’ll step away, and I will never come back to reclaim a role I refused from the beginning.”

You wonder what the reasons behind his decision could be. This man desired to have a child but is now refusing to have one with you because of a mistake.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do,” you admit.

His piercing eyes finally look at you. For a split second, you can swear that they were red. Red like blood. This destabilizes you, and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re not sure if you’re being delirious or if this is real.

“I wanted to become a mother, but not like this,” you continue, still destabilized by what you just saw. “So it leaves me wondering what I should do. But if you walk away, I’ll be more tempted to keep the baby because, in the end, it’ll go as I planned.”

In an unexplainable way, this man puts you at ease. It feels like you can confess how you truly feel about this situation without being judged by him. This man exudes serenity which draws you even more to him.

“I get that,” he says.

For a brief moment, you only look at him while your heart peacefully beats in your chest. His dark eyes stare right into your soul, and it feels like the world completely stopped. There’s just the two of you. But Jungkook breaks the contact, looking in another direction.

“If you decide to keep the child and need any financial help, I can give it to you,” he speaks.

This man definitely seems like a good guy, and you wonder even more why he’s walking away from this.

“I won’t,” you answer. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t have any means to take care of the baby.”

For sure you need financial stability to be a single mother, and you would have never embarked on this adventure without having it.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his fluffy hair, avoiding still your gaze. “Can I ask why you want to become a single mom?”

The question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting this man—this stranger—to be interested in you.

“I didn’t have an easy life and I grew up without my parents,” you confess. “Motherhood was something I aspired to have in my life since I’m very young, and I’ve desired to give to my child everything I didn’t have. No matter if it was with someone or alone.”

Your eyes shift from Jungkook to the square full of people. It’s never easy to express out loud and to a complete stranger why you embarked on this adventure. Mentioning your parents is actually never easy; even after all this time.

Suddenly, you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you in complete silence. For once in your life, people’s heartbeats and scents don’t suffocate you. You can hear and smell them, but it’s like it doesn’t matter.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve had those developed skills. You can hear stuff from afar, and you can strongly smell people’s natural body’s scent. Since it’s kind of ‘normal’ to you, you got used to it; but sometimes, and especially when you’re in the middle of heavy crowds, it suffocates you. It becomes simply too much.

This is something you never told anyone, too scared to be judged. Undoubtedly, people would say you’ve gone crazy due to the trauma of losing your parents. Not even Felix or Lexi knows about it. They just think you’re agoraphobic.

However, lately, you’ve been trying to go to some crowded place to overcome this suffocating feeling. You ignore why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve been doing it. It’s still too much, but today, next to this complete stranger, it doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him to offer him a little smile.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Can I also ask you why you’re doing this?” you dare to ask.

Jungkook nods before looking away once more. It definitely looks like it’s hard for him to hold your gaze.

“In my world,” he starts saying. “I have heavy responsibilities, and having a child is one of them. But I can’t have one with anybody. I’m very limited in who is the biological mother so that’s why I can’t have one with you.”

You almost feel offended by his words. In which kind of world can’t you be the mother of his child? It’s completely crazy!

“Oh,” you simply say.

“You could have been the surrogate…” you can hear some kind of chuckle. “But never the progenitor.”

“It’s seems like a tough world.”

His eyes look again at you; you can see that he seems to hesitate with the answer.

“It isn’t,” he finally says. “But it is with me.”

Obviously, he carefully chose his words.

“Well, I hope you’ll find the right mother for your child,” you offer him once more a little smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back at you.

The two of you look back again at the people walking in the town square. They are walking around you, ignoring totally what you’re going through, what tough decision you have to make. They ignore everything about you, just as you ignore everything about them…

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he adds.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer. “It’s the clinic’s.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the people walking in front of you. His heart is racing and piercing through your ears. He’s even more nervous than he was before, and it concerns you a bit. But you don’t say anything, too afraid to scare him off if you reveal you can hear his heartbeat.

“Yn…” he starts. “There’s something you need to know,” his voice is deep and low at the same time. It’s so low that it almost drowns out by the distant chatter of people passing by.

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing. “Okay,” you whisper.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he exhales. His eyes don’t meet yours immediately, but when he does, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“When I said my world is different,” he swallows with difficulty. “I don’t mean it in a metaphorical sense. My world, my reality is not the same as yours.”

You frown even more, confusion plastered all over your face. You’re definitely incredibly confused. How could his world be different than yours? You live on the same planet, and breathe the same air. How could it be not the same?

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gets closer, his voice dropping even lower, barely audible. However, you still hear it perfectly.

“I am not entirely human, yn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You stare at him while waiting for him to elaborate. However, Jungkook just stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’?” you tilt your head.

For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t speak, almost as if he’s scared to reveal his true nature to you.

“I’m a werewolf.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. It leaves you wondering if this man is of sound mind. Right now, you’re slightly concerned about his mental health, and the future of your child, if you keep them.

Your first reaction is to laugh, dismissing his words as if it is some kind of twisted joke. But the look on his face tells you that he’s deadly serious. This isn’t a joke.

“A werewolf?” you repeat to make sure you hear it well.

Jungkook nods. He looks tense and he maintains his deep glance on you.

“It’s why I can’t have this child,” he starts to explain. “In my world, bloodlines matter. Werewolf bloodlines are sacred, and the continuation of my lineage isn’t just about having a child. It’s about having the right child with the right kind of mother.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a tidal wave. You stand up, your hands running through your hair. Your mind is spinning, and your pulse thunders in your ears. This is something you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today.

Werewolves? You’re carrying the child of a werewolf?

This sounds like it comes straight from a fantasy movie.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whisper to yourself but Jungkook hears it.

“I didn’t want you to be dragged into this world, but you deserve the truth.”

You keep your back turned to him while you cross your arms against your chest.

“This is something you need to consider if you decide to keep the baby.”

At his words, you freeze. Instinctively, your hands down move to your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes follow your hands.

“Is this…” your voice trembles. “Is this a viable child?”

If you want to keep going with this pregnancy, you need to know if this baby can survive.

“There wouldn’t be any reason why this child wouldn’t survive because of mixed blood,” he stands up and gets close to you. “But as they grow up, they’ll develop werewolf abilities. And, one day, they’ll probably turn into one. It’s pretty unpredictable, though. There’s never been a human-werewolf hybrid before.”

Damn, this is leaving you speechless. How can this be real? Werewolves are supposed to exist in movies, not in real life.

“This is insane,” you rub your hands on your face. “This can’t be real.”

Jungkook steps closer. His presence is grounding but nonetheless overwhelming.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you demand, your voice filled with panic.

Before you can blink, he gets even closer to you. He’s in front of you in an instant, his hand gently grabbing yours. Your eyes look down at his hand as you notice it changing. His fingers elongate, his nails sharpen into claws, and the texture of his skin turns into something more beastly. Slowly, your eyes look up, and what you see completely freezes your body. His eyes glow a deep, predatory red, and there’s something undeniably wolfish about them.

You take a step back while setting your hand free. As you do so, Jungkook shifts back, his hand returns to its normal form, and his eyes fade back to a human form. The transformation is so quick that it almost feels like you imagined it.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Jungkook’s gaze softens at your words.

“That depends on you, yn.”

Please note that the taglist is closed

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 1 #spideyjimin

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amourcheol · 6 months ago

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the lords who loved me (series masterlist)

g e n r e : smut, fluff, angst, bridgerton! au, regency au! for certain fics -> friends with benefits! au, opposites attract! au, sunshine x grumpy! au, slow burn! au, forbidden love! au, enemies to lovers! au

s u m m a r y : the diamond club of mayfair is the most notorious, sought-after gentlemen's club in london. every member is a figure of great wealth, class or power, but none have such fame as five dear friends, the eligible lords of the ton. each acclaimed lord has their dreams and desires, concerns and anxieties, but all of them have one aspect in common.

every single one of these gentlemen will find their love match—whether they want to or not.

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : this is my first ever series and i’m so so excited to write about bridgerton!! this is something i've been wanting to write since late 2021 :') the storylines are all loosely connected (some more than others) but can still be read separately!! do send an ask/comment if you want to be added to the taglist, and enjoy the journey that's about to come <3

back to masterlist

❝Why learn the complexities of desire all by yourself, when your dearest friend can merely teach you?❞

g e n r e : friends with benefits! au, friends to lovers! au, smut, angst, fluff

s u m m a r y : you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor lord joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.

c o n t e n t : best friend! joshua, best friend! soonyoung too, references of real erotic literature from the 1700s because this is not an amourcheol fic without historical accuracy, joshua acts like a man (yikes), soonyoung a true mvp, diamond's member shenanigans mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (regency protection is goofy mb), overstimulation, corruption kink (!!!), body worshipping, mc is horned up, surprising amount of fluff in this

s t a t u s : taken!

❝Because Wonwoo was a wandering soul, and you were the anchor to his lost creativity.❞

g e n r e : writer! au, strangers to lovers! au, opposites attract! au, fluff, angst, smut

s u m m a r y : since his last successful play years ago, lord jeon wonwoo has lost all motivation to write his next masterpiece. hiding himself away in his countryside manor, he expects inspiration to strike. what he does not expect is you, his new spinster neighbour, to storm through his halls, and into his cold, aching heart.

c o n t e n t : writer! wonwoo, landowner! reader, mc is inspired by bathseba everdene from far from the madding crowd, wonwoo has writers block on stereoids, wonwoo is also a class-a loser but it’s okay cause he’s hot, lowkey love triangle with enhypen jake, descriptions of real places in england cause historical accuracy once again, this will be Long because i am an advocate of slow burn, there will be angst, mature warnings -> sexual tension, making out, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, body worship, more tba !!

s t a t u s : eligible.

❝How can one be professional with a partner as scandalous as Lord Kwon Soonyoung?❞

g e n r e : sunshine x grumpy! au, theatre! au, fluff, smut

s u m m a r y : you never believed yourself to be a particularly brilliant actress—that is, until lord kwon soonyoung scouts you for his next theatre production. amongst lessons and overwhelming emotions, you find that acting can be particularly difficult with a carefree scoundrel—especially if you are his next target.

c o n t e n t : theatre actress! reader, entertainer! soonyoung, inspired by the movie the libertine, soonyoung is a certified rake, mc hates (and is horrendously attracted by) it, references to shakespeare and restoration plays, wonwoo being silly, mature warnings -> Sexual Tension, so much Tension, making out, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, edging, soonyoung is such a tease it's crazy, more tba !!

s t a t u s : eligible.

❝What could go wrong for an unattainable lady to fool around with an untouchable gentleman?❞

g e n r e : forbidden love! au, rich x (kinda) poor! au, smut, fluff, angst

s u m m a r y : you were the diamond of this season. beautiful, accomplished, and of noble birth, your future was tied to the man who would be successful enough to attain you. when your eyes catch the newly labelled lord chan at your debutante ball, you decide to let curiosity take the lead—and enjoy the consequences that ensue.

c o n t e n t : new money! chan, old money! reader, reader is kinda arrogant(?), chan will fix her though, cheol will be very annoying this fic, sneaking around, mature warnings -> making out, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes through a bridgerton-esque montage, chan is crazy cocky but is also a loser because i believe in chan range, more tba !!

s t a t u s : eligible.

❝Keep your lovers close, and your enemies closer. Keep Choi Seungcheol, however, the closest.❞

g e n r e : enemies to lovers! au, exes to lovers! au, angst, smut

s u m m a r y : everyone in the ton was aware of your hatred towards choi seungcheol. when the powerful lord discovers a deep secret, however, he vows to humiliate you for his own pleasure. you decide to indulge him—if only to save yourself. what you failed to consider was that dancing with the devil can only end in ruination.

c o n t e n t : rake! seungcheol, lady! reader, these two hate each other cause too many people are pussies when it comes to e2l, seungcheol is insufferable, so is the mc, slowburn which will want to tear your hair out, painstaking angst which will be rewarded, mature warnings -> making out fuelled by intense hatred, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk galore, reader is a brat, more tba !!

s t a t u s : eligible.

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saessenach · 5 months ago

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Thinking many thoughts about Miss Andarateia Cantori tonight because what do you mean we get to be in her house for the entire game, in which she and her boyfriend/partner-in-crime run a gambling den, assassin guild ANd find the time to argue with the public administration while opposing a military occupation?? who does it like her??

Joke aside, I think she's an incredibly fun character, and I'm really happy that hers was the lens through which we saw the Crows this game. Whenever I see random posts and critiques commenting that the Crows were too "sanitised" or "found-family", I want to yell a bit, because DATV never claims that to be the case!! Obviously everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but what we see is anchored in a very specific context: not just Treviso under Antaam occupation, but also the Cantori Diamond, which falls under Teia's jurisdiction.

She's an elven orphan turned Guildmaster and Talon, who desperately wanted to find family in the Crows! While the other Talons resisted her attempts at every step (some more succesfully than others ksks), that implies 1) her approach towards her own House was probably not dissimilar and 2) it got her the Talon position in her 20s. Ergo, her modus operandi was probably fairly successful.

For all that she threatens to evict anyone who treats her like a landlord (lol), the Diamond is very much a reflection of her as a character. It's all completely in line with both her general characterisation in 8 Little Talons and with the point she reaches at the end of that story when confronting Emil. I don't think it's a coincidence that out of our two POVs in 8LT, she's the one discussing Crow ideology with their would-be-murderer:

and

Following this particular set-up, of course orphans like Jacobus are treated kindly; of course fledglings have time to gossip in quiet corners while training; of course she helps the Dellamortes however she can?? She decided these people are family to her, and she wants to do better by them than what she got. This is wildly compelling to me personally, because she's such a delightful mix of idealism and disillusionment, honesty and manipulation, compassion and retribution - and she's so fucking obstinate about it!!!

There's also the little connection with the Crows' beginnings, specifically in Treviso. Iirc, it's mentioned in 8LT that her base is Rialto (she's also got gardens there), so a part of me wonders whether the Diamond was an inherited property from a previous Cantori Talon, or whether she got it up and running between then and the events of the game. I think that between that little tibdbit and with Lucanis being named First Talon at the end of the game, it's pretty obvious that the theme of rebirth is very much the point in the Crows' plotline - a messy, hopeful and spiteful rebirth.

All of this is to say, what we get doesn't at all negate the other aspects we've seen from the Crows in previous games, but rather puts them into perspective. The game just goes on to ask - isn't there another way to do this? what else is there room for us to be? is there any chance we might find some kindness in this world? and one of the ways these answers are explored is through Teia's character (we start this series with Zevran's story within the Antivan Crows - an elven orphan bought from a brothel, who doesn't have the power to change this guild, and end with Lucanis, Viago and Teia, who is, specifically, an elven orphan picked up (?) from the streets, who remains one of the powerhouses of the organisation. I love a bit of narrative symmetry ✨)

And honestly, I find this entire thing delightful - it's cheeky and dramatic and a lot of fun, and it makes sense for these characters, if you only sit with it for a second and give it a bit of thought!

(PS the way she draws Viago into her orbit and the way their partnership works is another rant entirely, and they drive me absolutely insane nghhh)

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lily-bisque · 1 day ago

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ＷＡＹＯＵＴＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume six — sympathy for the devil

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: please heed the warnings this chapter! plenty of talks of mental health struggles and depression so tread lightly and take care of yourselves :’) i’d also steer clear of comments until you finish the volume! enjoy 🫶

✦ ── word count: 4k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - previous volume - volume seven

art by outdmilk on twt

Your body jerked awake, eyelids flipping open, and not a remnant of sleep clinging to you as your alarm sounded—blaring and echoing off the walls of your apartment with no forgiveness.

Your blank stare bored into the old fan above your head as it rotated, feeling your body sink into your bedsheets, no sense of autonomy as you moved on autopilot. Your throat felt throttled, like a pair of hands had settled there and steadily squeezed—each passing second a threat on your breaths.

Days moved like you were waiting for old age to take you, but holding out for something you could not grasp in your mind.

A persistent and uneasy lump in your gut anchored before each shift, right after a night of tossing and turning, futile attempts of finally sleeping decently.

It was routine now.

Wake up exhausted, get dressed, drag your feet to work, clean tirelessly, eat some bland frozen meal from the corner store, and resign to your prostration well before the sun retires.

That’s what consisted of your life before your hike, and two weeks well after your hike.

But for some reason you couldn’t place, it’d felt heavier than it had in the past.

You swayed softly before the mirror, lids hung low and jaw tense.

You slugged into work, eyeing Mei Mei as she counted cash at her desk, barely sneaking a peek at you as you rolled the ache in your shoulder. “Not surprised to see you here,” she spoke in an unimpressed tone.

You shoved your bag into your locker, rubbing the crease in your forehead. “You got any work for me?” You wasted no time cutting to the chase.

She hummed, undeterred. “My 7 AM isn't gonna be making it, stomach flu. Mind picking up for the both of you?”

She asked as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

You sighed heavily, before scanning for your work supplies to shove into the company van. “Sounds perfect.”

For all of the years you’d known Mei Mei, the sole thing she’d prioritize was how much she could fill her pockets. It’s what made her a wonderful business woman… and a shitty boss.

Your shoulders drooped far more than they normally did. You were constantly fatigued, your eyebags as evidence, and you had little to no appetite.

You threw yourself into work, telling yourself that it would pass, ignoring the calls you were receiving from your mother.

Her texts were proof enough of you not picking up—asking you for your dress measurements as she had found the perfect boutique to get you fitted for the wedding.

The thought of having to doll yourself up to see your ex-husband be remarried to the women he wet his dick with while the two of you were still betrothed was a sick joke.

Your trepidation slowly spiked with each passing day, a nauseating mass of mental ailment turned physical plaguing you that had you dry heaving on more than one occasion.

Your back ached regularly as Mei Mei accepted the amount of shifts you’d been picking up without protest.

You rarely spent time in your apartment, and when you were there you were knocked out.

Shoko offered to hang out far more than she normally did, but you’d dismiss it with a wave of your hand, ensuring her that you were fine. You could see the worry swimming in her hazel eyes, but you refused to acknowledge it.

You couldn’t acknowledge it. You shoved everything down into your stomach, because you knew that if you didn't, it’d begin to eat away at you more than it already was.

It had frayed the edges of your psyche, days blending into one thick and blurry montage of rest and work, a corroded hole the size of a softball in your chest endlessly leaking.

Sleep was your only escape.

“Hey, I brought those tuna sandwiches you like,” Shoko offered one afternoon, sliding you a lunchbox while the two of you sat plopped on a kitchen counter island, legs dangling off like school girls ditching class.

The owners were waiting on the contractors to finish the marble backsplash, so the two of you were in charge of last minute cleaning.

Your bleak gaze drifted over to the lunch bag she’d set next to you.

Tuna sandwiches.

Your stomach grumbled at the thought.

You zipped it open and dug into the foil wrapped food, a thick sigh of relief leaving you while you shut your eyes.

“Thanks, Sho.”

You recognized this pattern of yours, allowing yourself to get so lost that you could hardly pick yourself back up—barely noticing how bad it was until others began to gather the scattered pieces you’d left behind on your account.

So when three weeks had passed of the same worrying behaviors and self-destruction, you called in for a sick day.

Your migraines only seemed to grow with each passing day until you couldn’t see out of your left eye.

Thank God for PTO.

You took the day to clean up your place that'd managed to become quite the mess. It was a little unfair that you were spending your one day off from cleaning like this, but it was dire.

And somewhat therapeutic.

You had to shuffle through your things, frowning at your lack of hygienic nature in your depressive state.

You needed to pull up a stool to wash your forgotten dirty dishes because of the blisters on your calloused feet.

You tossed most of your dirty laundry into a washer and dryer set that actually worked without leaving your clothes damp.

And you finally emptied out your rucksack that you’d stuck into the back of your closet, too exhausted to deal with it at the time.

You dumped the heap of your belongings onto the floor, sorting out what needed to be washed and what needed to be tossed.

Unfortunately, there was no way that you could bring all of the clothing that Sukuna had brought for you, but you did bring the METALLICA shirt.

You couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

It smelled like pine trees and detergent.

You set it aside and continued sifting through.

Upon discovery of the water filter shoved into the recesses of your bag that went unused, you were irked that you even brought it in the first place.

Beside it, your fingers brushed against something hard. Uraume seemed to have stuck a bone into your backpack, making you quirk a brow.

You’d miss that mutt.

But as you sorted through, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest that seemed to spindle it.

Your finger grazed against your ankle subconsciously, the scarred skin making your body warm with just a touch.

You peered towards your window, eyeing the thick drapes that shielded the sun from filtering in.

You missed having no routine. You missed the smell of wet dirt and smoke. You missed the steady and expectant banter followed with half-assed apologies. You missed the swaying and croaking of trees that kissed the sky, the sighs of wildlife, the sunlight glittering off grass-slicked with dew, the mist settling in the morning that clouded the patio and coated the glass windows. You missed being awoken by the tapping of woodpeckers, the whines of flies you’d let in when you tried to air out the place, the scent of wild mint and herbs.

The feel of his couch while you drifted into a slumber that rejuvenated you.

The feel of his clothes on you.

One taste of that life and you were forever unsatiated.

You inhaled sharply.

And in an incredibly idiotic and impulsive action, you picked up your phone and dialled your boss's phone number.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

Wood chips and weeds crunched beneath your sandals that displayed your white-polished pedicure.

The sounds of sawing and muffled male voices intoned, the whistling wind in the afternoon sun making you fidget.

There were giant logs of tree trunks being moved from one location to the next, manned by stocky men in massive forklifts and lumber racks. There were a few rusted pick-ups hauling workers in their truck beds, axes slung over their shoulders as they cackled mirthfully between each other.

You were envious.

Your gaze flitted across the scene. There had to be at least 50 people working, but you couldn’t recognize the one who’d drawn you here.

You adjusted the hem of your sundress, glancing back at your parked Honda Civic in the grass.

This was stupid.

This was really, really stupid.

“What’s a pretty little lady like you doing ‘round these parts?’

Your head swung back around, shielding your eyes from the unrelenting sun as a man peered down at you, tilting his head to give you a slow once-over.

You really should’ve brought shades.

He had raven-black hair with a taper fade, the top swung to one side. There was a limp cigarette between his lips, his hands shoved into his jean pockets.

“Oh, uh. I’m looking for someone,” you spoke, clasping your hands in front of you.

“Really? Yer husband work at the sawmill?” He queried, pulling the cigarette from his lips to puff smoke into the sweltering afternoon air.

“No, a friend. But I think he works here. I’m not sure. I know he lives up in the forest and this is the closest sawmill so…” you trailed off, pursing your lips.

The man hummed, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Ah. You here to drop off lunch or somethin’?” He continued, jutting his chin to the bag in your hand.

You furrowed your brows. “Uh, yes. I am…” You emphasized before shaking your head, interrupting yourself. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

The guy chuckled, giving you a soft smile. “The names’ Shiu.”

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Shiu,” you responded, reaching a hand out to shake his and introducing yourself.

“Likewise. Say, what’s your friend's name? Maybe I can point you in the right direction.” He offered, taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

You perked up at that, rolling on your heels. “Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna, are you familiar with that name? He’s about, oh God I dunno, nearly seven feet and he’s got pink hair and—.”

“Sukuna,” he chuckled, cocking his head. “That bastard?” He tossed his head back with a boisterous laugh, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it. “What kinda business does a pretty girl like you have with a man like that?”

You frowned at his bluntness. A man like that? He is an ass, but he wasn’t an ass incapable of companionship. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

He shrugged, peering behind him to wave at a coworker who patted his shoulder and exchanging a greeting. “The guys’ fucking hostile, a beast. Not to mention his uh… moonlighting, for a lack of better wording.” He simpered at his own words.

…Moonlighting?

You shook your hands in front of you, a confused chuckle leaving your lips. “I’m sorry, I think we have the wrong person.”

“Oh, hon. I’m positive we don’t,” he spoke with finality, a lilt of knowing in his voice. “Only one Sukuna ‘round these parts.”

You opened your mouth to reply, mind swimming with confusion, before he interrupted you with a wave of his hand. “Listen. Today’s his day off, but he’ll be on stage tonight. I’ll take you on one condition.”

You took a reluctant step back. “Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know—.”

“Just buy me a drink. Nothin’ else. You get to see your little creature, I get a free drink. A win-win.”

“Okay.”

He grinned at that, before the two of you exchanged contacts and he quickly got back to work, running a hand through his shortly-chopped hair.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, walking away with your eyes cast to the ground as your mind swam with questions.

You drove your car down to a motel nearby, tossing your things on the stiff bedspread and collapsing against it just to stare at the beige ceiling shittily decorated with cherubs.

For the life of you, you could not decipher Shiu’s words.

Sukuna? On stage?

God, it made no sense.

You fiddled with your thumbs, anxious as time passed on, snacking on the turkey sandwich and barbeque chips you’d packed for Sukuna that nearly went to waste.

Maybe he was a poet. Liked to wrangle the stage with his brutish look but gentle tongue, a soft touch to juxtapose himself.

You don’t know if you’d like to see him croon a sonnet.

Maybe he sang. …No. That makes no sense. You’d heard him attempt to hum some tune in the shower and it was like nails on a chalkboard.

A dancer? Could those giant limbs be of contemporary servitude?

Nearly every explanation had you stuck at a crossroads, dragging your hands down your face in frustration.

But around eight o’clock, just before the sun went down, you received a call.

On the other line, Shiu was beckoning you to the edge of town. It was a whetted area, sharp and pretty crime-ridden, whatever could consist of a red-light district in the hick outback’s.

You drove your car up, windows up in case someone decided to throw a glass bottle through it.

You checked your makeup in the mirror for reasons you couldn’t explain.

You hopped out of your parallel parked car, locking it and checking your phone again for the address that Shiu had sent you as thick nimbus clouds settled in the sky.

It looked like it was going to rain.

You could feel your hands turn clammy, padding down the sidewalk and avoiding the despotic gazes tossed your way and picking at your freshly manicured nails.

You probably shouldn’t be here.

Nonetheless, you stopped in front of your destination, eyes bouncing between your phone screen and the sign in front of you.

A pawn shop.

You itched your scalp, wondering if Shiu was a jerk who was just messing with you.

A pawn shop did not have a stage, nor a bar—you could clearly see just peeking in. There were a variety of items lining dusty displays and shelves, incredibly disorganized and nearly filled to the brim with expensive, aged, and loved trinkets. Jewelry, musical instruments, firearms, you name it. They had it all.

Cupping your fingers to see through the somewhat frosted glass, you watched someone pass what looked to be a silver ring glinting beneath the fluorescent lighting to the heavyset cashier perusing a newspaper catalogue, and the cashier only nodded, handing him a wad of cash.

The next guy, who seemed to be a companion of the first guy, spoke to the cashier who just jutted a thumb to the curtain behind him.

The two guys chuckled, walking past him and stepping in, now shielded from the eyes of passersby.

You frowned, a sudden restiveness washing over you. But, you stepped away from the glass just to walk into a broad set of shoulders hitting your back and nearly trip over yourself.

“Oh! Sorry—.” You started in an octave too high and spun around, peering up at a man with a low rimmed hat, head tilting down towards you.

His heady and thick cologne made your nose scrunch.

Across the side of his face you could barely make out were jagged scars, as if he’d been attacked by a pack of wolves. But God, did he look incredibly familiar.

If you didn’t know better—.

“Scuse me, ma’am,” he grinned kindly—though it only made you queasy—nodding his head and stepping past you.

He strode into the pawn shop, the cashier folding his magazine after the strange man uttered a few words and allowed him behind the curtain.

What the hell was behind the curtain?

Did you really want to know…?

Bzzt.

You glanced down to your purse, shuffling through it to slip your phone out. You had an incoming text lighting up your screen.

Shiu: You shouldn’t have an issue getting in. As long as you let them know you’re here for the round. Shows starting soon.

Huh?

You stared at the text for a moment, skimming your fingers through your hair and racking your brain.

Was this really something you wanted to go down to see?

Well, part of you was incredibly interested in seeing what was behind the curtain. Another part wanted to see a friend you hadn’t seen in nearly a month. And another part wasn’t sure if it was smart for a lady as dressed up as you to go to some obviously illegal underground club.

You huffed.

Adrenaline. This was the very first sense of pure adrenaline you’d felt since… Well, since you’d last seen Sukuna.

Would you die for a taste of adrenaline?

Maybe. If it was a quick, painless death.

But from the looks of these parts, that kind of demise didn’t look plausible. Besides the prostitutes shuffling around the sidewalks, there were no other women besides you.

And not any women in a white sundress with an expensive side bag you’d splurged on for today and dewy makeup.

“Shit,” you muttered, clasping your eyes shut.

This was a horrible idea.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

There was no issue getting past the cashier.

Though he did give you an odd look at your get-up—as if you were the first woman dressed up like you he'd ever seen step foot into this place.

Your fingers curled against the corduroy fabric of the curtain, steeling your nerves, before you pulled them to the side.

Before you was a set of winding stairs—shabby and steep.

You padded down them in your sandals, worrying your lip between your teeth, praying you wouldn’t somehow accidentally embarrass yourself but clumsily tripping and eating shit.

But as you descended, the sound of muffled music and a booming voice echoed, enough to spike a vibration in your veins.

Your heart rate only picked up from then on.

A group of men were close behind you, chuckling about something and barely taking notice of you shuffling faster.

“ARE… YOU… READY?”

An audience roared at what sounded to be an announcer, whistles and hoots sounding along with boisterous laughs.

There was no way this was a quiet jazz club like you’d hoped.

Light began to dwindle into darkness, fog swimming up the stairs as midnight nearly engulfed you.

And when you finally made your way down, you reached a massive archway with white lights strobing against the walls.

Your eyes narrowed as you stepped into the massive venue, scanning around and taking in your surroundings.

There was a large ring smack dab in the middle of the dark room with floodlights tethered high-strung wood beams flickering and a chanting audience, bodies pumping their fists over their heads and clinking bottles of beer that sloshed out and onto the concrete floors.

A firepit was nestled off to the side, old men in cowboy hats and blazers yelling across to each other though they were mere few feet between them.

Your fingers tightened around the clasp of your bag, biting the inside of your cheek.

A boxing ring? Had Shiu taken you to a boxing ring and expected you to believe that Sukuna of all people were in the throes of such an act?

You made your rounds across the back of the audience, wanting to perch yourself in a corner of the bar until you could spot Shiu, but it seemed that he had been waiting for you.

“Tryna’ worm your way out of paying for my drink?” He pressed with a smirk, stopping beside you with a short glass in his hand as he watched the stagehands set up a cage around the ring.

You frowned at his accusation, jutting your chin towards his hand. “Looks like you’ve got yourself covered,” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest.

He clicked his tongue, glancing down at you from his shoulder. “You think this is enough to keep me down all night?”

You sighed and resigned to his nettles, turning behind you to wave at a bartender before glancing at Shiu. “What’s your usual?”

Shiu paused for a moment, before turning towards the bartender. “Whiskey. Neat.”

You laughed at that, tossing a leg over a stool and seating yourself. “Nice. You’re quite the moocher, aren’t you?” You teased, resting your chin against your fist.

Shiu chuckled placidly, taking a seat beside you. “Hey, this is a win-win situation, is it not?”

You narrowed your eyes with a tug of your lips, before turning to rest both of your elbows on the counter, leaning back lazily. “Could say you’re winning more than I am. Where the hell did you bring me anyway?”

You shuffled through your bag to grab some cash to toss on the counter while you awaited Shiu’s response.

He opened his mouth to explain himself, but stopped short. “Ya know, I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”

You frowned at that, but before you could question his cryptic words, the lights began to dim.

The audience leveled to a quieter hush as a man in a suit walked into the cage, a smug grin on his lips as the cylindrical spotlight zeroed in on him.

Shiu leaned down to whisper into your ear as it began. “You’re in for a real treat, sweet thing.”

Loud clangs of metal grating metal rang throughout the room, the announcer grabbing hold of the cage walls and shaking it. “Ladies andddd gentlemen. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

A tall and shirtless man with a bald head followed close behind him, cracking his knuckles against his skull, a sly grin painting him.

He turned towards the audience, waving his hands and riling them up.

He was met with roars of excitement and a plethora of boo’s, only heightening the tensions and thrill in the venue.

“So the newcomer of the evening,” the ring announcer continued, placing a hand against the man’s bare shoulder. “Is a fellow lumberjack, like most of you lot. And I’ve gotta say, plenty of you have got faith in his victory with the wages betted tonight.”

The bald man flexed his biceps, yelling as his friends in the audience seemed to hype him up.

“Though, I do gotta let you know,” the announcer’s voice turned wistful into the microphone, peering up at the bald man. “This is your last chance at an out. Once the cage is locked…?”

He cupped a hand around his ear, turning his microphone towards the audience who only chanted loudly in response, Shiu joining in on it with curled fingers around his mouth. “THE CAGE IS LOCKED!” They bellowed.

“Mhm,” the announcer affirmed, redirecting his attention back to the newcomer. “You ready?”

He pointed the microphone at the man who only screamed into it. “Fucking ready to kill him!”

Your eyes shot open, spinning your head towards Shiu. “What the hell did you bring me to?” You yelled over the audience.

“Don’t worry. It won’t get too messy,” he chuckled drunkardly, taking a swig as he watched the bald man make rounds around the cage.

“Well, then,” the announcer beamed. “Bring him in.”

The audience chanted in response.

“BRING HIM IN. BRING HIM IN. BRING HIM IN.”

From the shadows, you could make out a massive form emerging, fists limp at his sides.

His unruly pink hair stuck out of the bleak and dull room, dressed in a wifebeater and blue jeans.

Arms and face decorated in thick black ink.

The same dog tag you’d found in his drawers dangled from his neck lackadaisical.

His bare feet padded onto the canvas floor made of vinyl, a scowl etching his face… but it was unlike anything you’d seen before.

“Sukuna…” you whispered out into the humid air, fingers curling against the edge of your seat as you leaned forward, orbs focused on his movements.

“It’s just getting started,” Shiu stated over the unified chants, eyeing you with a knowing glint in his eyes.

The starting bell rang and the audience only hailed louder.

“The human freak of nature…”

Your eyes washed over his form, basically radiating with such a nonchalance undeserved for a fight that it worried you.

“The surviving mutant…”

Your heart stalled as a familiar metallic sound rang in your ears and your gaze found his fists—spikes… or… sheers? protruding from them.

“THE ONE AND ONLY…

…WOLVERINE.”

continued thoughts & comments here

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d1gitalwitness · 2 months ago

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leverage redemption (redeems) itself

i kinda love that leverage redemption erased everything and everyone that was terrible on the original, and wrote stories that are now more acceptable on television than it was in the early 2000s. in this reboot, sophie is allowed to become the big hearted teacher that she has always been.

in the season one finale of leverage, eliot and hardison tell nate that they actually prefer sophie being the mastermind and running their cons ("you learn, and you con."). unlike nate, who rarely lets the team in on his plans, sophie - despite being a revered and feared grifter - takes the time to teach her craft to anyone who wants to learn, even to a newcomer like maggie. she explains the rationale behind why certain cons must be done a certain way. the team has little experience in the long con, but sophie does, and she teaches them the overarching picture of a scam, while respecting their individual professions and skills.

sophie isn't afraid to let the team try new things even during the con itself - things might go awry but she trusts them to handle themselves. even in the original, sophie gives just enough advice to parker on how to communicate with hardison, then lets parker calm hardison down when he was buried alive. she never ever condescends to the team, recognizing that they are world-class experts in their respective trades. this openness that sophie has is an aspect of leverage that i have always loved. it was also clear that during her absence in season two, the team was missing an emotional anchor. they confided in sophie about their fears and anxieties not because they don't trust nate, but because sophie always listens. maybe it is due to her profession as a grifter that sophie understands people and what they need so well, but nevertheless, the crew - a group of misfits from society - find solace in sophie.

but since nate was the mastermind, we didn't see this aspect of sophie as often during the original. and to be fair, the tragedy of nate's life also meant that show was also filtered through his anger - which isn't a negative, anger is a response to injustice - but sometimes, his anger tore the team apart.

with the departure of nate, leverage redemption cleverly makes the women the masterminds. we see sophie be the anchor of the crew - she guides and teaches them, and lets them handle themselves for the most part. with breanna, sophie is careful not to strike down her ideas. she trusts breanna's intelligence, and only offers advice when breanna needs it. there are just so many occasions when breanna thinks of a con, and everyone runs with it because they love and trust her. beyond this, sophie also encourages breanna to think of college - this is something nate would never do, consumed by rage and sometimes insularity. they may be very old thieves in this out of passion and a visceral sense of justice, but breanna can still forge a real life for herself. there is a lightness to the reboot that allows more space for compassion (it must be said, the show was always kind.)

even with the inclusion of a veteran like noah wyle, the series doesn't pander to his experience. harry wilson may be fifty years of age, but when it comes to running honest cons, he's an amateur, and the show treats him as such. harry has to find a specialty of his own, and sophie is there, giving him a chance to learn and fall over and again. you learn, and you con has become the theme of leverage redemption, and it is everything the original could have been.

it's even more special that instead of letting these women adopt stereotypical traits associated with male leads - stubborness, intractability and anger - leverage redemption shows us a world where compassion and grace are powerful and affecting emotions. sophie, breanna and parker have already established that they can stand on their own and hold their ground - they are assured in who they are, and don't have to resort to condescension and rage to get what they want. i find it incredibly moving and also an example of a reboot that is spectacularly done.

#leverage #leverage redemption #leverage reboot #sophie devereaux #parker leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #breanna casey #harry wilson #gina bellman #beth riesgraf #aldis hodge #aleyse shannon #my meta #meta: leverage #meta: leverage redemption #correction: someone wrote that breanna is 25 i misheard and thought she was 19 my apologies #i might have been watching something else concurrently

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xxepherr · 8 months ago

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.ೃ࿐ELECTION DAY

summary — in which austin accidentally lets it slip that hasan’s faceless (yet public) girlfriend is the woman they’re currently watching analyse the maps on CNN.

pairings — hasan piker x politicalcorrespondent!girlfriend!reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 1893

note — i personally would have “6’4 jacked boyfriend” as his contact name so that whenever weird men try to hit on me they see that but thats just me (and this reader insert ofc) (also this is nothing special just me rambling tbh — what’s to say this political!reader doesn’t become a mini series)

THE DAY WAS HERE. election day. not only was it the day your boyfriend had spent hours upon hours preparing for for weeks, but you, too. you were a political journalist and correspondent currently working the map for CNN during the weeks in the lead up to the election.

it was a big day for you. four years ago you were streaming your own map coverage to fifteen thousand people on twitch, accessing your sources across multiple states to provide statements on what was going on nationwide. being asked a couple months ago to run the maps in front of millions was certainly a step up, but it gave you control to speak objectively without bias unlike most of the other news anchors and correspondents that were pushing right-wing sentiment over any other coverage.

you hadn’t seen hasan in a few weeks now unless you counted facetimes and tuning into his streams. you’d get texts while he was streaming and the occasional kaya video ( because apparently she’d been whining with your leave ). it wasn’t the same, but you were both incredibly career-driven people, so being hours apart by plane wasn’t as daunting as it probably should’ve been.

“you’re gonna be late to stream,” you laughed softly, fiddling with the cap of the bottle of water someone had gotten you. endless tabs were open on your laptop in front of you, following aspects of every state because there was still hours to go before the polls closed, so you were only needed in short segments for now to go over 2020 and 2016 county votes in particular states at a time.

“you’re right,” hasan’s voice was slightly staticky through the phone. “i might have to focus on kornacki or fox news so that i don’t spend too long staring at you.”

“aw,” you let go of your phone, holding it between your ear and shoulder to screw the cap back on the bottle. one of the directors caught your attention across the room, holding up his hand to say that she had five minutes before they were back on air again. “i’m back on in a few . . . i’ll have your stream open on my laptop, though!”

“good luck today,” hasan said softly as he started his stream, leaving it on his opening scene while his mic was muted. people were already flooding in by the thousands. “i’ll talk to you in, what, twelve hours? i love you.”

“twelve hours,” you hummed in agreement, “i love you more,” you sighed softly, noticing that the twitch tab was reloading to take her to his ‘starting soon’ overlay. “good luck.” you ended the phone call first, quickly putting it back on do not disturb and placing it over on the table that was full of analytical notes. the board that now had the map of the united states of america was lit up again, an empty canvas waiting for you to load up the old votes to load up projected blue and red areas.

TOO MANY HOURS TO count and three hundred thousand viewers into the election, hasan was still going strong. despite the pull to watching CNN more than he probably should, he managed to force himself to switch between fox news to laugh at republican propaganda and msnbc. though, he would one hundred percent lying if he said he didn’t have CNN up on his second monitor.

things were steadily climbing, and josh ( ettingermentum ) was back after mike from PA left the call. josh, who had been raging on ( no seriously, no one had really heard him be that loud all day ) about how the democrats fucked up was finally broken up when austin joined the call, the atmosphere shifting.

christmas sign in full view and a cold slab of a slice of pizza being shoved into his mouth, austin’s discussion on if he was being sent to prison if the republicans dominated was dwindled until josh left the call to analyse the polls for twitter.

“ugh, can we watch something else?” austin asked, barely swallowing his mouthful of pizza first. “all i’ve done is watch fox today.”

“yeah,” hasan chucked humourlessly, clicking around mindlessly between tabs as he tried to find msnbc’s coverage. because the tabs were so small thanks to the fifty million twitter tabs he had open, he almost groaned in frustration when he accidentally clicked on the CNN tab.

the tab where you were conveniently fiddling with the data of state of pennsylvania. it was already a dangerous game having you on screen when the chat knew what the silhouettes of you looked like — photos from behind of you walking with hasan, photos of your eyes after he tried to do your makeup, mirror fit checks with your face covered by the phone . . . chat only needed to be railroaded enough to work it out.

just as he was about to switch tabs again, austin opened his mouth. “oh, man, i miss her,” there was a shift in his tone, more than just him speaking without thinking. familiarity shone through. from the way he casually uttered your nickname to the sigh, it was probably worse than railroading. it was the train forgetting to slam the brakes on worthy.

hasan wisely kept his mouth shut as he switched to fox news — anything was better than CNN currently — and his eyes slowly zeroed in on the chat. question marks upon question marks until it eventually morphed into ‘holy shit she looks familiar’ and ‘girlfriend reveal????’ to ‘omg face reveal’ and his breathing faltered.

someone switched the chat to emote only mode in the few moments he was silent for, austin thankfully following suit. glancing at his second monitor, you were still doing your thing, this time discussing the iowa flip from blue to red, completely oblivious.

“austin,” hasan finally said, tone flat. there was no use making a big fuss out of denying it — that would just make it more obvious.

austin chuckled nervously, awkwardly. “uh . . . sorry, hasan. i didn’t think about it . . . awkward.”

“clearly,” he grumbled, digging his fingers into his hair for a moment as he thought. the election was put on hold in his mind for a moment as he switched the screen to the full facecam. he wasn’t going to directly deny or confirm anything, so instead he said, “take what you will from what austin said. in saying that, don’t go harass her, clearly she was faceless for a reason. anyway,” hasan cleared his throat, “moving on, back to the election . . .” and he swiftly moved on like nothing ever happened ( while the mods were timing out anyone who asked about it for an entire week ).

“PENNSYLVANIA AND NEVADA ARE expected to be the closest as of currently,” you gestured to the map that demonstrated the slight wave from the blue shift. “we’re looking at about half a percent, but election night is full of surprises so . . . we’ll continue to keep an eye on that for now.” the directors in the back signalled that the camera was no longer live, and you nodded and took a deep breath. the polls weren’t looking as good as everyone had expected it would look for the democrats.

finally off the air for a much needed break, you wandered back over to your little table off to the side. notes were piling up, but upon noticing the spam of notifications flashing across your phone. weird, you thought, your notifications usually not showing up unless it came from verified accounts across all social media platforms . . . until you noticed that it was coming from your private instagram and twitter account. super weird.

and then the text from hasan.

6’4 SUPER JACKED BOYFRIEND: uhhh so austin accidentally told 300k people we’re dating

6’4 SUPER JACKED BOYFRIEND: call me when ur done? so sorry

oh. on one hand the first part was exciting. three hundred thousand? it was a new viewership record for him. on the other? that means a shit ton of people knew the secret you guys had spent almost two years safeguarding. you’d wanted to keep your face out of everything because you had your own career and didn’t want his to intertwine with it. a healthy work-life balance was keeping that shit separate, but it was only really time until people found out anyway. it wasn’t the best kept secret, anyway.

still, you weren’t mad. you sent off a quick text saying ‘it’s alr’ with a smiley face emoji and shut your phone off completely, shoving it off to the side and turning your laptop back on. you’d be back in california tomorrow, anyway, it could be dealt with then.

THE AIRPORT WASN’T AS secretive anymore. tired after only getting a couple hours of sleep because you got back to your hotel at some god awful hour this morning, it was an instant relief to see hasan waiting for you, dresses comfortably to not draw too much attention to himself — which was difficult because he was fucking huge.

either way, you had no energy to do anything but collapse into his waiting arms, letting him engulf you until you were suffocating. “this is nice,” you mumbled. “sorry i didn’t call, was so tired.”

“you’re fine,” he promised, pulling you back slightly to look at him. “i missed you,” he slipped his hand into yours, and he took your suitcase with his other hand. it was nice to be able to publicly be in his presence without worrying, so much so that you leant into his arm, tiredness dragging your feet.

“missed you more,” you said honestly, but there was more on your mind than just small talk. “where’s austin? motherfucker’s been blowing up my phone.”

hasan chuckled, “if i hear him apologise one more time i’m gonna commit a hate crime.” he then shook his head, “he wanted to stay at the house but i told him to come ‘round tomorrow . . . want you to myself first.”

you knew what that was code for, so you shook your head with a silent laugh. “let me sleep first, god.”

and sleep you did. the house was silent thankfully so you were content tucked up in hasan’s arms, stealing him from clocking in with his twitch chat for ten hours in a fit of selfishness that you were entitled too.

“austin might’ve saved our relationship,” you teased, trailing your fingers up his arm that was tightly wrapped around you, both on the verge of falling into dreamland. “now we can go out on proper dates again.”

“you can tell him yourself,” hasan’s arms tightened around her a little bit more, so full of warmth that the blanket was starting to render useless. “when he knocks our door down tomorrow morning.”

“aw, come on,” you tapped his arm a little harder, fighting the urge to gnaw on his forearm. “you love him.”

“i love you, he’s just my side piece,” he kissed the side of your neck tenderly, “night, baby.”

“g’night,” you mumbled back with a soft smile, the world drifting away for just that little bit longer until tomorrow rolled around. you could deal with your very public relationship then.

#hasanabi x reader #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi fic #xeph writes about hasan

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velvetseahorse · 1 month ago

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Erotic Chaos: Kundalini, Ashlesha, Uttara Bhadrapada, and the Struggle for Control

In ancient Vedic texts, Kundalini is described as the “serpent power,” an intense, primal energy coiled at the base of the spine. This energy is tied to our ego and physical identity, anchoring us to the material world while also placing limits on our spiritual growth. Mastering Kundalini means learning to awaken and guide this energy upward through each chakra, each center representing a unique aspect of consciousness. A true Kundalini awakening is not just about spiritual insight it also involves embracing sexual energy as a natural, powerful force within the spiritual journey, transforming raw desire into higher awareness. Source: Claire Nakti

Ashlesha nakshatra is deeply connected to this concept because it embodies the themes of binding and constriction spiritually and energetically. Governed by the Nagas (serpent deities), Ashlesha represents the dual nature of serpents: they can bind and paralyze with poison but also possess the power to release and unbind. Being in the sensitive water sign of Cancer, Ashlesha is about preserving energy and maintaining purity. Nagas, associated with water, are highly sensitive to spiritual pollution and react strongly against actions that disrespect sacred knowledge. Their Yin nature means they don’t initiate but rather respond, acting as protectors of Dharma (spiritual order) and sacred practices. Uttara Bhadrapada, on the other hand, also has a restrictive quality, but its limitations are tied to Saturn’s influence and Pisces’ connection to the 12th house the realm of isolation, subconscious depth, and hidden places like prisons or asylums. Its deity, Ahir Budhnya (the deep sea serpent or dragon), guards hidden treasures in the depths of the ocean, symbolizing the containment and protection of sacred knowledge. Uttara Bhadrapada’s connection to Kundalini is more refined it is linked to the Ajna (third eye) chakra, where spiritual energy is stabilized. In this stage, Kundalini rises beyond ego and personal identity, bringing a profound shift where ambition and the desire for achievement fade away. The individual transcends their limited human self, merging with a higher state of consciousness and aligning with universal truth.

Ashlesha is about breaking free from “motherly” restrictions to avoid becoming frozen or paralyzed in a state of innocence or naivety. It represents the struggle of moving beyond a sheltered, virginal state. In “The Year of the Carnivore,” Cristin Milioti an Ashlesha native plays Sammy Smalls, a young woman stuck in a grocery store job she dislikes but keeps to avoid moving back in with her overbearing parents. Sammy’s life takes a turn when she develops a crush, and after an awkward sexual encounter, the guy tells her she is sexually immature due to her inexperience. This criticism triggers a spiral for Sammy, pushing her into a series of awkward, misguided sexual experiments as she tries to gain experience. One telling scene shows Sammy getting intimate with a guy but unable to stop laughing — a clear sign of discomfort with physical touch.

This aligns with the nature of Ashlesha, whose yoni (animal symbol) is the male cat, considered the least sexual yoni in terms of directness, reproduction, and penetration. Like a cat, Ashlesha can be finicky, picky, and indirect, preferring to preserve their energy. This focus on energy preservation is tied to Ashlesha’s connection with water the most easily polluted element. Water signs like Cancer (Ashlesha’s zodiac sign) and Pisces are especially vulnerable to contamination, which is why Ashlesha women are often concerned with purity and self-protection. Ashlesha natives often need to explore sex in a way that genuinely gratifies them, and their indirect, cautious approach can sometimes lead to an aggressive or even predatory sexual expression a “man-eating” or cannibalistic trope.

This is seen in “Raw,” where Garance Marillier who has an Ashlesha ☽ and an Uttara Bhadrapada ↑ plays Justine, a veterinary student raised as a strict vegetarian by her overprotective mother. When Justine is forced to eat raw rabbit meat during a hazing ritual, she develops an intense, almost uncontrollable craving for raw flesh, leading to a disturbing transformation. Her struggle with hunger and primal urges is a dark, exaggerated portrayal of Ashlesha’s conflicted relationship with instinct, hunger, and desire. After experiencing intense cravings for meat, Justine feels ashamed and begins secretly eating raw meat. Her hunger takes a darker turn when her sister Alexia accidentally cuts off her finger and instead of helping, Justine picks it up and starts chewing on it. Justine’s hunger for human flesh intensifies and begins to blur with her feelings of lust, especially toward her roommate, Adrien. Adrien is more sexually experienced, while Justine is still a virgin and unfamiliar with her own desires. During a hazing ritual, she is pressured to kiss a boy but ends up biting his bottom lip instead. Later, when she has sex with Adrien, she struggles with an urge to devour him but manages to control herself, biting her own arm instead and experiencing an orgasm.

In “Jennifer’s Body,” Megan Fox an Ashlesha ☽ native plays Jennifer Check, a high school girl known for her wild reputation. One night, Jennifer and her best friend Needy go to a local bar to see an out-of-town band perform. The lead singer, mistakenly believing Jennifer is a virgin, decides to sacrifice her for fame and fortune. But the ritual backfires because Jennifer isn’t a virgin, and she is transformed into a succubus instead of dying. As a succubus, Jennifer begins seducing and killing local boys, feeding on them to maintain her beauty and vitality. If she goes too long without eating, she becomes pale and withered, needing “male meat” to stay healthy and beautiful. These stories highlight Ashlesha’s intense, pent-up feminine energy a force that is both alluring and dangerous. Ashlesha is like a group of hidden, pure water creatures sensitive, waiting, and filled with angsty, sexualized energy. It craves something strong enough to resist or contain it. When that strength is absent, Ashlesha’s energy can become consuming, uncoiling and rising like a serpent, leading to a kind of bliss or ecstasy. Despite its connection to inexperience or naivety, Ashlesha has a fierce, almost predatory side. Its intensity is rooted in a primal hunger, making it one of the most dangerously passionate nakshatras, especially when its desires are awakened.

𓆗

Uttara Bhadrapada, with its Saturnian influence and connection to the deep waters of the subconscious, often manifests as a struggle between repression and chaotic release, especially when it comes to sexuality. The nakshatra’s link to hidden depths means that emotions and desires are often buried, but when they surface, they can do so violently or in distorted ways. This is evident in two films featuring Uttara Bhadrapada natives: “The Piano Teacher” and “A Dangerous Method.” In “The Piano Teacher,” Erika Kohut (played by Uttara Bhadrapada ☽ Isabelle Huppert) is a rigid, troubled piano professor in her late thirties, living under the suffocating control of her elderly mother in Vienna. Her father spent years in a psychiatric asylum, and Erika’s entire life is a study in repression she leads a scheduled, lonely existence, pouring all her energy into her strict, almost cruel teaching style. Her mastery of classical music, (which @invenusworld has linked to Saturn nakshatras) is her only source of pride, but it also becomes a prison. For Erika, who was conditioned to believe that only her piano skills had value, everything else beauty, charm, or love seems beyond her reach. Erika embodies the detached, mysterious qualities of Uttara Bhadrapada. She feels fundamentally excluded from the world around her, a theme captured in the novel by Elfriede Jelinek: “She feels left out of everything because she is left out of everything. Others go farther, even climbing over her. She looks like such a minor obstruction… The paper can’t get very far, it rots away right there. The rotting takes years, monotonous years.” This isolation and repression transform her desires into something dark and destructive. Her sexual needs, suppressed for so long, emerge through voyeurism, sadomasochism, and self-harm. Uttara Bhadrapada’s connection to Saturn (restriction) and the 12th house (hidden desires, self-undoing) makes Erika a prisoner of her own twisted cravings. Her attempt to control her sexuality leads to a disturbing power struggle with Walter Klemmer, a young pianist who becomes fascinated with her. Although she is impressed by his talent, she tries to sabotage his acceptance as her student, a reflection of her fear of losing control. Her insecurity peaks when she sabotages another student, Anna, injuring her to steal her performance opportunity. Walter’s interest in Erika turns into a toxic, violent relationship.

When she tries to control their encounters with a list of masochistic fantasies, Walter is disgusted and calls her sick. Uttara Bhadrapada, with its mix of Saturn’s restraint and the 12th house’s hidden darkness, can manifest as a craving for the forbidden but also a fear of being consumed by it. Erika’s attempt to engage with her desires becomes self-destructive. Her repression is so severe that even when she tries to submit to Walter at an ice rink, she becomes overwhelmed and vomits. Later, when Walter arrives at her apartment and violently assaults her, acting out the fantasies she had described, it becomes the ultimate loss of control a tragic consequence of her conflicted desires, which she never truly wanted to become reality. What Erika genuinely craved was affection and love, but her need for them was distorted into unhealthy perversion. The next day, she brings a knife to the concert hall where she is set to perform in Anna’s place. When she sees Walter laughing with his family, she calmly stabs herself in the shoulder and walks away, her self-harm a final act of despair and self-punishment.

The Andromeda myth, tied to Uttara Bhadrapada, is a story of captivity, sacrifice, and transformation. Andromeda, a princess chained to a rock as an offering to a sea monster, represents the themes of being trapped, suffering for the sins of others, and the potential for liberation through divine intervention. These themes echo the emotional and psychological struggles associated with Uttara Bhadrapada, where hidden fears, repressed desires, and subconscious turmoil create an internal prison. Yet, like Andromeda, the potential for transformation always exists, even in the darkest moments.

Uttara Bhadrapada’s connection to Andromeda can be seen in how its natives often experience deep psychological suffering or repression, feeling bound by invisible chains whether through strict upbringing, oppressive relationships, or their own unresolved fears. This nakshatra is ruled by Ahir Budhnya, the serpent of the deep, a being bound to the ocean’s depths yet holding vast knowledge. Like Andromeda, who is saved by Perseus, Uttara Bhadrapada’s struggle is not without hope. Transformation comes when they confront the monstrous aspects of their subconscious, freeing themselves through self-awareness or a profound emotional release.

. ♓︎ .

This theme is vividly portrayed in “The Piano Teacher,” where Erika Kohut (Uttara Bhadrapada ☽ Isabelle Huppert) is emotionally chained by her controlling mother and repressed desires. Her strict, punishing approach to life is a form of self-imposed captivity, but beneath her cold exterior lies a sea of chaotic, unfulfilled desires. Her voyeurism, sadomasochism, and self-harm are expressions of this repressed energy breaking through, much like the sea monster in the Andromeda myth. When she meets Walter, their interactions become a cruel power struggle a battle between her need for control and her longing for release. Walter initially seems like a liberator but becomes another form of torment when he violently acts out her fantasies, leaving Erika even more wounded. Her final act of self-harm before walking out of the concert hall is a twisted attempt at reclaiming her agency a distorted form of freedom.

In “A Dangerous Method,” Sabina Spielrein (Uttara Bhadrapada ☉ Keira Knightley) is also trapped by her traumatic memories and her intense, conflicted desires. Her hysteria and emotional suffering are symptoms of unprocessed trauma, but they are also the source of her transformation. Through her relationship with Carl Jung, she confronts the darkness of her past, ultimately transforming her suffering into insight, becoming a pioneer in psychoanalysis. Her journey from patient to healer reflects Uttara Bhadrapada’s power to turn pain into wisdom, just as Andromeda is saved and transformed by her ordeal.

“Augustine” portrays another trapped woman, Augustine (Uttara Bhadrapada ↑ Soko), who is institutionalized after violent fits and paralysis. Charcot’s obsessive study of her turns her suffering into a spectacle, reducing her to a subject of medical curiosity. But Augustine’s symptoms seizures, loss of sensation, and fainting are not just physical. They are expressions of repressed emotions and desires struggling to surface, much like Kundalini energy coiled in the depths. Her final escape from the institution, after using her supposed hysteria to manipulate Charcot, is a symbolic liberation, a rejection of being used and controlled.

Going back to the cannibalistic narratives of “Raw” (starring Ashlesha ☉, Uttara Bhadrapada ↑ Garance Marillier) and “Bones and All” (directed by Ashlesha ☉, Uttara Bhadrapada ☽ Luca Guadagnino and starring Uttara Bhadrapada ☽ Timothée Chalamet). In “Raw,” Justine is overwhelmed by her repressed hunger, both literal and metaphorical, which becomes monstrous when she tastes human flesh. Her descent into cannibalism is a grotesque form of transformation, where she must confront the darkness within herself a classic Uttara Bhadrapada struggle. In “Bones and All,” Chalamet’s character lures his victims through seduction, a serpent-like dance that combines hunger, desire, and violence. His embrace of a man in the cornfield, wrapping around him before striking, is a direct nod to the snake symbolism of Ahir Budhnya the hidden hunger that coils around its prey. These cannibalistic themes reveal the shadow side of Uttara Bhadrapada, where suppressed desires erupt in monstrous ways. But they also hint at the potential for transformation, as both characters are forced to confront the darkness within them. These stories show how Uttara Bhadrapada’s Andromeda connection is not just about suffering but about the choice to either remain trapped or transform to either let the sea monster devour you or find a way to break free.

#vedic astrology #ashlesha nakshatra #uttara bhadrapada nakshatra

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

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"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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theballadofharkness · 4 months ago

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Whisky and Wine: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 9.7K

Warnings: explicit smut, fingering, NSFW so MDNI

A/N: I’m so touched by all the love on this series ❤️ this is the first explicit smut in this series so let me know how you guys feel about it and if it has a place in this series xo

You barely registered the path you took through the lavish space, your heart pounding in your chest, your vision blurring slightly from the mix of emotions and alcohol. Everything that had happened in the last half hour crashed over you all at once- Whisky’s words, Miles’ offer, the suffocating weight of doubt pressing into your ribs. It was all too much.

You just needed Claire.

You pushed through the doors to the quieter lounge area, your eyes scanning the room desperately until they landed on her. She was standing with Lionel, her expression serious as they spoke in hushed voices. But the second her gaze flicked up and found yours, everything else faded.

"Baby?" Her voice was immediate and alert. She took one look at you, at your glassy eyes and unsteady stance, and her body went rigid with concern. "What’s wrong?"

Lionel sighed, clearly irritated by the interruption, but he took one look at you and seemed to decide against saying anything. "We’ll finish this later," he muttered to Claire before excusing himself. You barely noticed him leave.

Claire was already closing the distance between you, her hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently. "Hey, hey, talk to me, sweetheart," she murmured, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Let me make it better. What happened?"

A small, broken sound escaped your lips as you collapsed into her, your arms winding around her neck, your body molding to hers as you clung to her like she was the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. Claire caught you instantly, wrapping you up in her strong arms, her warmth anchoring you as you buried your face against her shoulder.

"Shh, I got you," she whispered, running a hand down your back soothingly. "I’ve got you, my baby."

You wanted to speak, to explain, but all that came out was a shaky breath, and Claire’s hold on you only tightened. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her sharp eyes scanning your face, taking in every little detail- the redness in your eyes, the way your lower lip trembled.

Her expression darkened, protective. "Who do I need to kill?" she half-joked, but there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "Tell me what you need, baby."

You just shook your head, your fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress. "Just… you, please, I need you," you murmured, barely coherent.

Something in Claire’s face softened, but the worry never left her eyes. She exhaled slowly, one hand slipping down to your waist as she effortlessly lifted you onto the table behind her, hiking your dress up to your hips as she stepped in between your parted thighs, pressing her body against yours.

"I’m right here," she murmured, one hand still cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to hers. "You’ve got me, baby. Always."

Claire forced herself to pull back, her breathing uneven as she cupped your face between her hands. Your desperation had set her blood on fire, but now that the haze of lust was clearing, she could see just how wrecked you truly were.

"Baby," she murmured, searching your face, brushing her thumbs over your damp cheeks. "No, c’mon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to pull her back in, trying to press your body closer, anything to get her to give you what you wanted. "Nothing’s wrong, just- please, mommy, please," you whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress like you were afraid she might let go. "I just need you, need to feel you close, need-"

"Hey, hey, shhh, baby," Claire soothed, her heart aching at the way your voice cracked. You looked so overwhelmed, so lost, and it killed her that she didn’t know why. "You have me, sweetheart. You always have me."

She softened her hold on you, brushing a hand down your back, grounding you. "But I need to know what’s going on, okay?" she coaxed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Tell me what’s got you like this, my pretty girl."

Claire felt you trembling in her arms, your grip on her tightening like you were afraid she’d slip through your fingers. Her hands instinctively curled around your waist, holding you firm, steady, grounding.

"Baby, hey," she whispered, brushing her lips against your temple. "Tell me what’s going on."

You swallowed thickly, burying your face in her neck for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. Your eyes were glassy, desperate. "Whisky… she said you’d never come out," you admitted, voice small. "That after Senate, there will just be another goal, another reason to hide. She said I was stupid to believe you." Your breath hitched, hands clenching in the fabric of her dress. "Tell me she’s wrong. Please, tell me she’s wrong. She doesn’t know you, she doesn’t know us."

Claire’s whole body went rigid.

For a moment, there was only silence- thick, tense, and charged. Then, slowly, her hands slid to your thighs, gripping them as she stepped closer, pressing herself firmly between them. "That bitch needs to stay out of our business," she seethed, voice low, dangerous.

You gasped softly at the sudden shift in her, the fire in her eyes blazing with something fierce, something possessive. Claire was always protective of you, but this- this was different. This was territorial.

"Baby," she murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers, her grip firm but reverent. "Listen to me. You are mine. Nobody gets to come between us, nobody gets to plant doubts in your pretty little head. Whisky doesn’t know shit about us. She doesn’t know how much I love you, how much I’d burn down the whole fucking world for you if I had to."

Your breath came out shaky, your heart hammering. "Claire…"

"No," she cut you off, her hands sliding up your body, one curling around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. "You don’t listen to her. You listen to me. I promised you, didn’t I? I said I’d come out after Senate, and I will. I swear it, baby."

"But-"

"No buts," she interrupted, pressing her forehead against yours. "You belong to me. No one is ever going to take you from me. And I’m going to make sure nobody ever tries again."

Her lips crashed into yours, the sheer dominance in her kiss stealing the breath from your lungs. It was deep, claiming, unwavering. You whimpered against her, gripping onto her shoulders, letting her pull you impossibly closer.

When she finally pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, she pressed one last kiss to your lips- softer this time, but just as firm. "Mine," she whispered, her thumb brushing over your cheek. "Forever."

“Forever” you nodded quickly, eyes looking up at her wide and glassy. “P-please Claire… need you” you breathed.

Claire’s fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to mark you up with bruises. “Oh baby, I can’t turn you down when you beg for me like that,” she groaned, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lace panties and tugging them off.

She pulls back just enough to get a glimpse of your glistening pussy on display for her, her fingers twitching against your thighs as she inhaled sharply at the sight.

“Fucking hell baby…” she eventually managed, letting her middle finger brush lightly along your glistening folds, lightly flicking your clit with the tip of her finger. “Already so wet for me hm?” She trails kisses up the column of your throat as you tilt your head back to give her unfettered access.

She gently nips at your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation, gasping out a breathy plea for more. She happily obliges, slipping two of her fingers inside your aching pussy making you feel deliciously full.

“C-can I-?” you panted against her as her fingers slid in and out of you at a maddeningly slow pace.

With a subtle nod of Claire’s permission, you are allowed to take what you need, holding onto her shoulders as your pussy clenched round her long fingers. She’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride her hand, her thumb keeping a relentless pace on your clit as you writhe against her, the two of you working in tandem to bring you to your release.

Claire has spent many a long night committing every last inch of your body to memory, so she knows how to curl her fingers just right to drive you over the edge.

“F-Fuck, mommy I‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Claire is quick to wrap a hand round your throat, pressing her lips against yours in a filthy kiss to muffle your desperate moans.

“You’re gonna get us caught pretty girl,” Claire warns you, but she doesn’t slow her pace, determined to make you fall apart on her fingers.

The danger of being discovered with Claire’s fingers knuckle deep inside of you has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Claire’s name as it hits. She allows you to ride out your high till you begin to feel yourself twitch, oversensitive, before removing her fingers from your pussy, bringing them to her mouth and swirling her tongue around them to taste your slick. The sight alone was almost enough to make you cum again.

“You taste fucking delectable baby,” she breaths as her hands pull your limp body against her chest, words going straight to your core.

You were breathless, panting softly against Claire’s lips, your body still trembling from the sheer intensity of her kiss. Your fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as you let out a delicate whimper, overwhelmed, overrun by the force of her love, her claim on you.

Claire exhaled sharply, grounding herself, before her hands slid back down your body, gripping your waist as she pulled you up onto your feet. She kept you close, unwilling to let you go for even a second, her arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Baby," she murmured, pressing a flurry of soft kisses over your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose. "My sweet girl. My love. I’ve got you."

You let out another shaky breath, melting into her, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed along your jaw, her lips warm and tender against your skin.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses, her voice soft but unwavering. "So much. More than anything. You’re mine, baby. No one will ever change that."

You whimpered again, clutching at her, your body still sensitive from everything- your emotions, her possessiveness, her fingers deep inside you. Claire held you through it, her hands smoothing up and down your back, grounding you, steadying you.

"Shh, I’ve got you," she soothed, pressing another lingering kiss to your temple. "Always."

You exhaled shakily against Claire’s shoulder, your body still thrumming from everything that had just happened. Her arms remained locked around you, protective and grounding, her lips brushing over your temple like she was afraid you might slip through her fingers if she let go. You wanted to stay in this moment, just wrapped up in her, safe from everything that had happened tonight- but you knew you had to tell her.

You swallowed hard and pulled back slightly, looking up at her, still holding onto her tightly. "Baby," you murmured, voice quiet, almost hesitant. "There’s… something else I need to tell you."

Claire’s body tensed instantly. Her hands tightened on your waist, her protective instincts flaring up the second she heard the shift in your tone. "What is it?" she asked, her voice lower now, sharper.

You hesitated, but then you forced yourself to say it. "Miles- he, um… he offered to help me with my books."

Her brows furrowed. "What?"

"He said he could get me the best of the best to promote my work," you explained, watching her face carefully. "Make me a household name. Said I’d be a younger, hotter Stephen King or something."

The moment the words left your mouth, Claire’s entire expression hardened. Her jaw clenched, and her grip on you became just a little tighter. "No," she said immediately, her voice firm, unwavering. "Don’t you dare."

You blinked in surprise, confused by how fast and fiercely she shut it down. "What?"

"I mean it," she said, pulling back just enough to cup your face between her hands, forcing you to look at her. Her thumbs brushed over your cheeks, but her gaze was sharp, serious. "You don’t want to be indebted to him in any way. You don’t want to owe him anything."

"I didn’t say yes," you protested, thrown off by her intensity. "I just said I’d think about it, but I wasn’t actually- "

"Don’t," she interrupted, shaking her head firmly. "Don’t even consider it. That man doesn’t do favors, baby. If he’s offering you something, it’s because he’s expecting something back. And once he has his claws in you, you’ll never get out. He will own you."

You bit your lip, feeling a little uneasy now. You hadn’t really thought about it like that before. At the time, you’d been so overwhelmed that you hadn’t fully considered what it actually meant.

"I wasn’t planning on taking it," you admitted softly, your fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of Claire’s dress. "It just… caught me off guard, that’s all."

Claire sighed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, but her hands didn’t leave you. "Good," she muttered, pressing her forehead against yours. "I mean it, baby. Stay away from that offer. You don’t need Miles fucking Bron to make you successful. You’re brilliant all on your own."

Your heart fluttered a little at that, at the raw sincerity in her voice. She believed in you so fully, so completely, in a way that made your chest ache.

"Yeah?" you whispered, searching her face.

Claire pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her fingers tilting your chin up. "Yeah," she murmured, and there was so much certainty in her voice. "And if you ever do need help with promotion, or dealing with your publishers, I will handle it. Not Miles. Not anyone else. You’re mine to take care of, baby."

You exhaled shakily, your eyes growing glassy again. "You always take care of me," you whispered.

"Damn right I do," she murmured, and then she kissed you, slow and deep, like she needed you to understand just how much she meant it.

When she pulled back, her hands stroked down your arms, her touch warm and steady. "Now," she murmured, her voice gentler, but still firm. "Let’s go get through this damn dinner."

Claire kept a steady arm wrapped around you as the two of you made your way back to the dinner, her grip firm but careful, guiding you as you still felt slightly unsteady. Between the alcohol, the overwhelming emotions of the night, and the way Claire had just taken care of you, your legs felt weaker than you wanted to admit. But Claire knew. She always knew.

"Easy, baby," she murmured, her voice low and warm as she pulled you just a little closer, adjusting her grip. "You okay?"

You nodded, nuzzling your face into her shoulder, breathing her in. "Mhm. Just need you close."

"I’m not going anywhere," she promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As you stepped back into the dining area, you could already feel the change in atmosphere. The music was softer now, the drinks still flowing, the group still lively- but you could sense the undercurrent of tension between certain people. Your eyes flickered to Whisky, who was seated at the table, her expression unreadable as she stirred her drink. Claire noticed too.

You felt her tense, her grip on you tightening slightly as her gaze burned in Whisky’s direction, her jaw clenching like she was one wrong move away from saying something she shouldn’t.

You exhaled softly, and before she could stew too much in her anger, you curled further into her arms, tilting your head up to look at her.

"Claire," you murmured, voice soft, wanting to pull her focus back to you, back to something good.

She glanced down at you, her brow still furrowed, her body still humming with frustration, but the moment she saw you- saw how soft your gaze was, how safe you felt in her arms- some of the tension melted away.

"You look so pretty," you told her, your voice slightly dreamy, the alcohol still making you a little loose-limbed and affectionate.

Her expression softened instantly, her eyes flickering over your face, studying you like she always did, like you were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

"Yeah?" she murmured, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

You nodded, reaching up to brush your fingers against her cheek. "So pretty," you whispered, and you meant it so much.

Claire’s lips parted slightly, something unreadable flickering across her face before she sighed, shaking her head slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping her. "My sweet girl," she murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your hair, her fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back.

She held you close as the two of you made your way to the table, and as much as there was still so much left unresolved- Miles, Whisky, the entire tangled mess of the night- right now, you just wanted to exist in this. Just you and her, wrapped up in each other, in the warmth of her arms, in the way she always held onto you like you were the most important thing in the world.

Miles stood at the head of the long dining table, drink in hand, his signature wide, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. He spread his arms in a grand gesture, commanding the attention of the group as the conversation quieted around him.

"Gang," he started, pausing for effect, his voice warm and performative, "this has been an amazing weekend so far. And let me tell you, the next three days? You’re not ready. We are going to have the most amazing time. I’ve got activities planned, games to play-" he winked, "-a little something for everyone."

There were a few murmurs of anticipation, Birdie clapping her hands together excitedly, Duke raising his glass in agreement. Claire, beside you, exhaled quietly, her fingers still tracing slow, grounding circles against your back as you remained curled into her side.

Miles took a sip of his drink before continuing, his tone turning just sentimental enough to feel practiced. "But more than that, this trip isn’t just about fun- it’s about us. My closest friends. My fellow Disruptors."

At that, a few of them chuckled, nodding along. You caught Lionel’s jaw tightening slightly, his shoulders stiff, but he said nothing.

"You know," Miles went on, "after all this time, after everything we’ve built together, after all those billions… you remain my oldest and dearest friends." His voice dropped into something almost conspiratorial. "And do you know why that is?"

There was a pause. No one answered. Miles grinned.

"Because I appreciate honesty. I value loyalty. I see the real ones when they’re in front of me. And each of you?" He tapped the rim of his glass with a single finger. "You’ve been real ones since day one."

A few voices murmured agreement, Birdie giggling and whispering something to Peg, Whisky taking a long sip of her drink.

"And that’s why we’re here," Miles concluded, raising his glass higher. "To celebrate the bonds that connect us. The trust, the love- the history that’s led us to this moment. So here’s to us, gang. Here’s to the past, the present, and the future of the Disruptors."

Everyone lifted their glasses in a toast, murmuring their own agreements. Claire, beside you, barely lifted hers, her expression unreadable as she stared at Miles with the faintest trace of skepticism.

You swallowed, shifting slightly against her. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he crafted his words that left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

But before you could dwell on it too much, Claire gently pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you closer, grounding you.

"To us," Miles echoed once more with a wide, satisfied grin.

And everyone drank.

Miles grinned, raising his glass even higher. "Here’s to my OGs!"

There were more murmurs of agreement, glasses clinking together, the mood warm and celebratory- at least on the surface. You absently twirled a piece of your hair around your finger as you listened, your gaze unfocused as Miles continued speaking.

"Because that’s what friends do," he went on smoothly, "we help each other. Just look around. Look at what we’ve built together."

He gestured with his glass as he spoke. "I help Claire with her campaign because I believe in her. And look at her? Throwing a grenade into the machine of politics. Lionel? My guy keeps everything at Alpha running like the genius he is. Duke’s building his brand, and I’m making sure he’s got the platform to do it. Birdie’s got a whole new venture coming up, and I’m investing because that’s what we do. We look out for each other."

You frowned slightly, looking up at him. "So what do you need help with?" you asked.

A brief flicker of frustration crossed Miles’ face. "Excuse me?"

You tilted your head. "This dinner." You gestured loosely around the table. "You brought everyone here to celebrate, but also to remind everyone how you’ve helped them along. So what do you need help with?"

Miles hesitated for just a beat too long. Then he let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if amused. "Well… now you mention it…"

You felt Claire stiffen slightly beside you. As Miles spoke, you caught the faint sound of Lionel muttering under his breath to Claire. "I told you there was a reason he brought up my employment…"

Claire exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tightening around her wine glass. You felt her shift beside you, straightening slightly, and you could sense her anxiety growing.

Miles, meanwhile, let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest as if the weight of the world had just been placed upon him. “I’ve been going through something recently and I wasn’t going to mention it but…" he said, tone dripping with faux exasperation. "If you must know… Andi’s legal team has been on my ass."

That got everyone’s attention. The mood at the table shifted- subtle, but noticeable. A few glances were exchanged, and Lionel closed his eyes for half a second, as if bracing himself for what was coming next.

"Something about intellectual ownership and the napkin…" Miles continued, waving his hand dismissively. "It’s all bullshit, obviously. We all know I came up with the founding idea of Alpha, right gang?" He gestured around the table, expecting agreement. No one immediately jumped to confirm it.

"Well, anyway," he pushed on, "there’s no way she can actually prove what she’s saying, but… I’m being taken to court anyway."

There it was.

You felt Claire’s breath hitch, the tension in her body clear as day. Lionel sat back slightly in his chair, rubbing his forehead. Birdie, completely oblivious to the shift in mood, took a sip of her drink like this was nothing more than casual dinner conversation. Your own stomach twisted. Even tipsy, even overwhelmed from the night’s emotions, you knew this was huge. And Miles didn’t seem nearly as concerned as he should be.

Duke, ever blunt, frowned and leaned forward. "So… what does that have to do with us?"

Miles let out another one of his exaggerated sighs, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe they were even asking. "Guys, c’mon. If I’m locked in a legal battle where I might lose everything- we lose everything."

Silence fell over the table.

The realization hit like a slow-moving train, the weight of his words sinking into each of them at different speeds. You felt Claire stiffen beside you. Lionel muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, and Birdie blinked in confusion before tilting her head.

"Why do we lose everything?" she asked, her voice light, still not quite putting the pieces together.

Miles turned to her with the kind of patient condescension he reserved for when he thought he was explaining something so obvious. "Well, Birdie, if Andi takes me to court, I won’t be able to invest in Sweetie Pants. I’ll have to save my money for the lawyers."

Birdie’s mouth dropped open, her freshly glossed lips forming a perfect ‘O’. "What?"

Duke cut in, scowling. "Or my streams? I’m counting on your promotion, dude. That was the whole deal."

Miles sighed again, spreading his hands as if to say what can you do? "And I’d love to give it to you, man, but I can’t… not while Andi is on my ass."

His words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the group.

This wasn’t just about him being sued.

He was making it their problem.

Birdie was the first to break the silence, shifting in her chair, eyes wide with nervous energy. "Well… what do we do?!" And there it was, the first one to show a willingness to stab a friend in the back for the financial security that came with being team Miles.

You swallowed hard. Because the thing was… Birdie might have been the first to say it, but you could feel the same question hanging in the air from everyone else. They were all thinking it.

Miles smiled, like a teacher pleased that his students were finally catching on. "Oh, it’s really simple," he said, spreading his hands. "Something that would make the trial really quick and easy is if you guys just told the court, as witnesses, that you saw me write down the initial idea for Alpha on that napkin at the Glass Onion."

Your stomach turned.

"You know, what really happened," he added smoothly. "Wouldn’t be a lie. Just helping out a friend."

Claire’s grip on your thigh tightened. She was stone still beside you, but you could feel the tension rolling off of her. And that was when it truly clicked. He was asking them to lie.

Under oath.

The silence at the table was thick enough to choke on. Everyone was waiting for someone else to speak first.

Finally, Lionel cleared his throat. "No, man." His voice was firm, but there was a flicker of unease behind his eyes. "We did enough. Cutting out Andi, not protesting when you did what you did… We already stood by while you screwed her over, I’m not doing it again."

Miles sighed heavily, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "That’s too bad, Lionel," he said, his voice calm… too calm. "Because I need friends and employees I can trust."

Claire shifted beside you, she knew what was coming. So did Lionel.

"And if you can’t be here for me in my time of need," Miles continued, "I don’t know if I can trust you to work for me."

Lionel tensed. "Miles-"

"It’s a shame too," Miles interrupted, shrugging. "I was just talking to my investors about funding your work further. Getting you the equipment you need to show off that science brain. But if I can’t rely on you…" He trailed off, shaking his head with a little smirk, before knocking back his drink.

That was it.

It wasn’t a request for help.

It was a threat.

Claire scoffed, shaking her head as she reached for her wine glass. "Miles, can’t your machine of lawyers and power destroy her by sheer dumb force?" She took a sip, voice casual, but her grip on the stem was tight. "Why do you need us?"

Miles tilted his head, flashing that smug, easy grin. "Claire Bear," he said, voice dripping with faux affection.

She ignored the nickname. "Please," she continued, "I’m a politician. You’re asking me to perjure myself."

Miles laughed, leaning forward like she had just said something adorable. "C’mon, Claire. Having you all speak on my behalf will stop this whole back and forth about Alpha, get Andi off my back, and allow us all to-" he made an exaggerated gesture with his hands, "‘inbreathiate’ in the moment again without the threat of Andi hanging over us."

You frowned. "Inbreathiate?"

"Yeah!" Miles grinned. "It means, like, breathe in the energy of life together-"

"That’s not even a word," You muttered under your breath

Miles ignored you, still looking at Claire. "And if we can get this thing settled quickly, I can continue funding the dreams of my fellow disruptors. It’s in all of our best interests, don’t you think?"

Miles clasped his hands together, scanning the table with that same smug, expectant smile. "Yeah? So I can trust you guys, right?"

There was a beat of hesitation, thick and uncomfortable. Everyone glanced at each other, waiting for someone else to speak first.

And then, predictably, Birdie broke the silence. "Oh, Miles, you know I’ve got your back," she said, her voice a little too bright, a little too eager. "I mean, what kind of friend would I be if I just let Andi ruin everything for you? For us?" She laughed like she wasn’t about to commit perjury.

Miles grinned at her. "That’s my baby Birdie," he said approvingly, raising his glass in her direction.

Duke was next, giving a sharp nod. "Okay, man, whatever you need," he said, voice flat but firm. "I got you."

Miles turned to Lionel now, still smiling but with just the right amount of pressure behind it. "And Lionel?"

Lionel swallowed hard. His fingers clenched around his fork, his shoulders stiff. He knew this was wrong. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his eyes darted away from Miles, in the way his knee bounced under the table. But he also knew what saying no would mean for him, for his career, for everything he’d built.

Finally, he exhaled, looking down at his plate, his voice quieter than before. "Yeah, okay," he muttered. "I’ll do it."

You felt sick.

And then all eyes turned to Claire. Claire didn’t look at you. She was staring at Miles, her expression unreadable, her jaw set.

Miles just kept smiling. "Claire Bear?"

Your grip on Claire’s hand tightened until your knuckles went white. "Claire, you can’t do this, baby, please," you whispered, your voice small and trembling under the weight of what was happening. "It’s illegal. It’s- it’s perjury. You’re a politician. You could lose everything- "

Around the table, the others were watching Claire carefully. Birdie, biting her lip, nodding slightly as if encouraging her to just agree and get it over with. Duke was frowning, arms crossed, brows raised in expectation. Lionel was staring hard at his plate, shoulders hunched, looking nauseous.

And Miles, of course, was smiling.

"C’mon, Claire Bear," he said smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I can only bankroll a candidate I can trust. And if I can’t trust you… well," he made a little show of sighing dramatically, "maybe it’s time I start looking at your opponent instead."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What the fuck?" you snapped, whipping your head toward him. "You can’t do that! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Miles only smirked, ever the composed manipulator. "What? You know how it is, babe. Politics is all about trust. I mean think about it. If her constituents found out she cheated on her husband with a much younger woman? She’s never get their trust back."

Your breath was coming fast now, panic making your chest tight. "Claire, don’t do this."

Claire inhaled slowly, lifting her glass to her lips as if she were simply considering her options, as if she weren’t making a deal with the devil right in front of you.

And then, finally, she exhaled and nodded once, her voice cool and controlled. "Fine," she said, "I’ll say what you need me to say."

Your stomach dropped.

Miles grinned like a cat who’d caught the canary. "Ahh, fantastic! Now that that’s sorted" he clapped his hands together, "let’s eat!"

Just like that, the tension dissolved. The others shifted, murmuring their agreements, reaching for their forks as though they hadn’t just been coerced into a legal conspiracy. As though Claire hadn’t just promised to lie under oath.

You turned to her in horror, tugging on her wrist like a desperate child. "Claire you could go to prison," you whispered, your voice cracking, "Claire, please-"

And then she snapped. "Stop it," she hissed, her voice low but sharp, her grip on your thigh suddenly firm enough to still you completely. "Now."

You flinched at the sudden change in her tone. "But, Claire-"

"I said stop," she cut you off, eyes dark and warning. "I’m handling this."

The finality in her words made your chest constrict. You felt helpless, small, completely stripped of your voice.

Her fingers dug in just slightly where she held you, grounding you, keeping you in place. "I need you to trust me, baby," she said, softer this time, tilting your chin up with two fingers. "You trust Mommy, don’t you?"

You swallowed, eyes welling up. "Not when you’re lying," you admitted in a whisper.

Her jaw ticked slightly, but she didn’t break. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear, her voice barely above a murmur. "I am doing what needs to be done," she said slowly, deliberately. "And I am not having this conversation here."

You blinked back tears, hands trembling in your lap.

She pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice turning sickeningly sweet, masking the undeniable authority in her tone. "Now be a good girl and eat your food, hmm?"

Your heart twisted painfully. The room carried on as normal, conversation flowing around you, but you felt detached, numb.

Claire squeezed your knee before finally pulling away, acting as though nothing had happened, as though she hadn’t just shattered your trust right in front of you. And you had no choice but to sit there, staring at your untouched plate, feeling like the only person in the room who realized they had all just signed their souls away.

As the plates were cleared and the glasses refilled, Miles leaned back in his chair, swirling the last sip of his drink in his glass. With a satisfied smirk, he pushed back from the table, standing with a grandiose stretch.

"Alright, my friends," he announced, clapping his hands together. “Hope you didn’t eat too much, because I have a little surprise for you all."

Everyone looked up, some intrigued, some still reeling from the conversation before.

"I’ve paid for an exclusive nightclub tonight. Whole place is ours, VIP all the way. So let’s get going, yeah?” He checked his watch. "I just need to make a quick call first."

With that, he slid his phone out of his pocket and strolled out of the dining area, already lifting it to his ear.

You shifted, opening your mouth to speak to finally say something, anything, but before you could get a word out Claire shot you a look.

A single glance.

Sharp. Commanding. A silent warning: Don’t you dare. You swallowed hard, your mouth clamping shut.

Birdie, ever the one to fill silence, groaned and stretched her arms over her head, dramatically tossing her napkin onto the table. "Well," she sighed, "if we’re gonna be miserable, we might as well do it in paradise with bottle service and a dance floor, right?" She giggled at her own joke.

You didn’t.

Instead, you scoffed under your breath, standing abruptly. "Yeah," you muttered, leveling the table with a pointed stare. "You certainly have all earned it."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the table, feeling Claire’s eyes burning into your back as you strode toward the deck, needing air, needing a drink, needing to be anywhere but sitting in that tension-filled room, pretending everything would be fine.

As soon as you disappeared onto the deck, a thick silence settled over the table. The air was still heavy with the weight of what had just been agreed upon, and the tension was palpable.

Duke was the first to break it, shaking his head before turning to Claire. "You gotta get your woman in line."

Claire’s head snapped toward him, her sharp glare cutting through him like a blade. "Excuse me?" she hissed, voice low, dangerous. "Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that."

Duke held up his hands in mock innocence. "I’m just saying," he defended. "She’s got a problem with this whole thing, and if she stirs up too much shit, she could make problems for all of us."

Birdie nodded, swirling the wine in her glass lazily. "Duke’s right," she said as if it were obvious. "She can’t ruin this for us."

Lionel sighed, rubbing his temples. "It seems like she’s the only one left at this table with a strong moral compass," he muttered.

"Exactly," Duke pointed out, looking directly at Claire. "So make sure that doesn’t become an issue."

Claire’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table, anger simmering low in her belly. "Are you threatening me, Duke?" she asked, voice deceptively calm. "Jesus, this isn’t the Mafia."

Duke just smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I’m just saying, use that mommy thing you got going on with her. Works like a charm, right?" His smirk deepened, knowing exactly what he was implying.

Claire’s stomach twisted, shame curling at the edges of her rage.

Birdie gasped, delighted. "Claire!" she giggled, leaning forward with interest. "I didn’t know you had it in you! Dominating politics, yes, but dominating a teenager-"

Claire slammed her hand down on the table, making the glasses tremble. "She isn’t a teenager!" she snapped.

The table fell silent.

Claire shoved her chair back, pushing away from the table, her heart hammering in frustration. She needed to find you. Now.

But as she stormed through the yacht, her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to the many times she’d used that very dominance to get you to comply, heat coiling in her belly.

She thought about when you’d first started paying attention to her political career, watching her navigate a world of power you weren’t yet accustomed to. You’d questioned things. Pushed back. Sometimes, you’d gotten upset, and Claire- always knowing exactly how to handle you- had taken control.

"Baby, you need to trust me," she’d murmured once, pulling you onto her lap after a particularly tense evening. You had been anxious, worried about something she'd said in a speech, worried about how much she had to compromise to survive in her world. She had cradled you close, her hands smoothing down your back, her lips at your temple. "I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to carry all of this. Let mommy handle it."

And you had melted. Every time.

She thought about how you had been upset just hours ago, overwhelmed and emotional, looking to her for stability. How easily she had pulled you in, settled you, guided you. How much you needed her to be that for you.

And now here you were, spiraling again, running from her, doubting her, and it made something primal and protective snap inside her. She found herself moving faster. She would find you. And she would make you understand. She had to.

You slam the empty shot glass down onto the bar, the burn of tequila barely registering anymore. The bartender eyes you warily, but you don’t acknowledge it. You just tap the counter, wordlessly asking for another. You cannot be sober for another second. Not after this. Not after watching Claire- your Claire- agree to something that could ruin her.

Your head spins, your thoughts a tangled, messy blur. Claire had finally said she’d come out for you, finally promised to make that leap. And now? Now, she could go to prison for perjury.

For Miles Fucking Bron.

It’s like you’re watching everything slip through your fingers in real time. You’d fought so hard for this, for her, for a future where you didn’t have to keep hiding, where Claire didn’t have to keep making excuses, where she could just be yours in the open.

And now it could all be destroyed before it even begins.

You don’t even realize the next shot has been poured until the bartender nudges it toward you. Without hesitation, you grab it and down it, feeling the heat sear down your throat.

It’s not enough.

Nothing feels like enough.

You grip the edge of the bar, staring blankly at the liquor bottles lined up behind it. The voices behind you are a distant hum, the party continuing as if your entire world isn’t currently shattering.

You’re dimly aware of someone coming up beside you, but you don’t look up. Not until a familiar voice cuts through your haze- low, firm, laced with warning.

"That’s enough."

Claire.

You don’t even hesitate. You grab the next shot the second the bartender sets it down and throw it back, the burn barely registering.

"That’s enough," Claire says again, voice sharper now, closer.

You scoff, shaking your head as you set the glass down with a clink. "No, it’s really not."

She moves then, reaching for your wrist, and you whip around so fast she freezes mid-motion.

"Don’t you dare touch me." Your voice is sharp, venomous, shaking.

Claire’s jaw tightens, but her eyes- God, her eyes- are filled with hurt beneath the frustration.

"Baby- "

"Don’t," you snap, stepping back like her presence alone is suffocating. "Don’t ‘baby’ me, don’t ‘mommy’ me, don’t act like you have a right to tell me what the fuck to do after what you just did in there."

Claire exhales through her nose, controlled, composed in a way that makes your blood boil. "You need to calm down."

You let out a humorless laugh, swiping at your mouth. "Calm down? Oh, that’s rich. You want me to calm down when you just agreed to perjure yourself for that manipulative piece of shit? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Claire’s expression flickers, something stormy passing over her face. "Watch it."

"Or what?" You step closer now, alcohol making you reckless, eyes burning. "What are you gonna do, huh? Mommy gonna put me in my place? Gonna tell me to sit pretty and shut up like a good little girl while you destroy your fucking life?"

Claire’s nostrils flare. "You don’t understand what’s at stake here."

"I understand plenty," you snap. "I understand that I fucking love you, and you just made a deal with the devil. I understand that you promised me, Claire. You promised me a future together, and now you’re throwing it all away because Miles fucking Bron dangled your career over your head like a goddamn bone."

Her face hardens. "This is bigger than you and me."

"Oh, fuck you," you spit, voice breaking. "Everything is always bigger than me, isn’t it? Your career, your reputation, your fucking political trajectory- but when do I get to be big enough for you to fight for?"

Claire’s face actually falters then, just slightly, just for a second.

And it’s that that makes your chest ache so deeply you feel like you might actually shatter. Because you see it. You see the war in her eyes. The way she wants to argue, to rationalize, to convince herself she’s doing the right thing. But you also see something else. You see guilt.

And that’s what breaks you.

You let out a shaking breath, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "You don’t even believe yourself, do you?"

Claire stays silent.

And that tells you everything.

Claire exhales sharply, trying to ground herself, trying to push past the alcohol on your breath and the sharp edge in your voice. She’s seen you upset before, she’s seen you drunk before, but this… this is different. This is you slipping through her fingers, pulling away from her reach. And she can’t allow that.

So she softens. Drops her voice into something warm, something coaxing, something that has always worked on you before.

"C’mon, baby," she murmurs, stepping closer, reaching for you again, gentler this time. "Let’s just go back to the room, okay? We can take a nice, relaxing bath. I’ll hold you. We’ll talk this out."

Her hands cup your face now, fingers stroking against your heated skin, thumbs brushing the high point of your cheekbones, desperate to soothe, to contain, to fix. And oh, she’s desperate. You can hear it. Feel it.

It’s in the way she holds you like you’ll disappear if she lets go. The way her breath stutters when you don’t immediately soften into her. The way she needs you to believe her. And maybe, a few hours ago, you would have. Maybe before dinner, before Miles’ speech, before this entire night became something twisted and tainted, you would have fallen into her arms and let her convince you.

But now?

Your lips curl into something sharp, something bitter. "You do whatever you want, I’m staying here."

"Baby, please," she says, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "I know you’re angry. I know this is a mess. But look at me."

You hesitate, but your eyes meet hers. Her hands move, sliding down your arms, fingertips grazing your bare skin like she needs to memorize the shape of you.

"You mean everything to me," she whispers, eyes scanning your face like she’s trying to memorize every detail. "I need you to know that. I need you to feel that. I can’t lose you."

Your heart clenches, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. "Then why are you doing this?"

Claire swallows hard. "Because I’ve worked my whole life for this, I have clawed my way to get where I am. I can’t lose everything because of Miles Bron I can’t," She pauses, shaking her head. She steps closer, hands cupping your face again, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to let her in. "Just tell me what you need, baby," she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. "Tell me how to fix this with you. I will do anything for you."

The words almost break you. Because that’s the thing about Claire- she’s powerful, dominant, used to getting her way. But when it comes to you, she would burn the world down if you asked her to.

You shake your head, lips pressing into a tight line. "Anything," you echo, voice laced with bitterness. "You’ll do anything for me, but you won’t say no to Miles. You won’t stand up to him, not even when you know this is wrong."

Claire inhales sharply, her grip on you tightening for a split second before she forces herself to relax. "Baby," she murmurs, her voice thick, careful. "You don’t know him. Not like I do. Not like I have."

Her gaze flickers away, just for a moment, like she’s seeing something you can’t. Something dark. "What he did to Andi- what we helped him do," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "He ruined her. She had everything, and he took it. And now? Now he has more power than ever." She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing over your cheek, reverent. "I can’t let him do that to us." The way she says ‘us’ makes your breath hitch.

"Please, baby," Claire begs, her forehead pressing against yours, her thumbs stroking along your jaw. "Please, try and understand. I have to do this. I have to play the game. I have to survive. But I can’t do it if you hate me. I can’t breathe without my baby girl."

Her voice cracks on the last words, and something inside you breaks.You’re still furious. Still so hurt. But Claire’s love, her devotion- it’s the one thing in this whole mess that’s real. You exhale slowly, your body finally relaxing against hers, and Claire immediately pulls you in, crushing you against her like she’s terrified you’ll slip through her fingers. Her lips press against your temple, your cheek, your jaw- anywhere she can reach, desperate to ground you both in each other.

"I love you," she breathes against your skin, her hands sliding up your back, cradling you like something precious. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

You sigh, tilting your head just slightly, giving her silent permission. Claire doesn’t waste a second- her lips capture yours, the kiss slow and deep, like she’s trying to pour every unspoken word, every ounce of desperation and devotion, into you.

And god help you, you let her.

Because no matter how angry you are, no matter how messy this all is, you love her too. You always will.

Claire kisses you like she’s trying to memorize the taste of you, the shape of your lips, the way you sigh against her mouth. It’s slow at first, deep and lingering, her hands cradling your face with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. But then you press closer, just slightly, and it breaks something in her. A soft, needy sound escapes her throat as she deepens the kiss, arms wrapping tight around your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her hands roam, spreading across your back, sliding down to grip your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your dress like she needs to feel all of you.

"God, baby," she breathes between kisses, her lips trailing along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "You drive me insane."

Her voice is low, husky, full of something dark and desperate. It makes your knees weak.

You grip her shoulders, letting her press you back against the smooth railing of the yacht. The cool night air swirls around you, but Claire’s body is warm, her touch electric.

"I hate fighting with you," she murmurs against your skin, her lips brushing over your collarbone, the words melting into you. "I hate seeing you upset. I just-" She exhales shakily, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are heavy with emotion, with need. "Let me make it better, baby. Let me take care of you."

She kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. Like she’s pouring every apology, every ounce of devotion, into you. Her tongue slides against yours, slow and sensual, her hands tightening on your waist. And fuck, you shouldn’t be melting into her so easily. You shouldn’t be letting her touch you like this, making your head spin, making you forget the weight of what’s coming.

But she’s Claire. She’s your mommy. And when she kisses you like this, like you’re her whole world, it’s so easy to just let go. You whimper softly as her fingers slip beneath the slit of your dress, just ghosting over the bare skin of your thigh. Claire swallows the sound with another kiss, her body pressing flush against yours.

"Let me take you to bed," she whispers, her lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw. "I don’t care about the club, about Miles, about any of them. I just want you."

And god, you’re tempted. So tempted. But then, from somewhere deeper in the yacht, you hear the distant echo of laughter, the clink of glasses, the unmistakable sound of the others getting ready to leave.

Reality.

Claire hears it too. You feel the way her body tenses, how she forces herself to slow down, to breathe.

She presses one last kiss to your lips, softer this time. "We have to go," she murmurs, reluctantly pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "But when we get back, baby…" She breathes, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. "You’re mine."

Your breath catches, but before you can say anything, she straightens, smoothing out her dress, slipping back into that effortless, composed version of herself.

The Governor. The politician. The woman who always has to be in control.

Except you know the truth.

That underneath it all, she’s just a woman who worships you.

And as she takes your hand, leading you back inside to rejoin the group, you realize one thing:

No matter how angry you are, no matter how tangled this all gets, you’ll always be hers.

The main deck is buzzing with movement as you and Claire step back into the glow of expensive lantern light. Drinks are being passed around, Birdie is twirling in her dress like she’s on a runway, and Miles- smug, fucking insufferable Miles- stands at the center of it all, drinking in the atmosphere like he owns it (which, to be fair, he does.)

Claire keeps her fingers laced with yours, her grip firm, like she’s anchoring herself with you. You can still feel the ghost of her lips against your skin, the lingering heat of her hands, the way her voice had cracked when she begged you not to leave her. And yet, to everyone else, she looks effortlessly composed. Governor Debella. The controlled, pragmatic politician.

But then Lionel catches her eye. He’s standing off to the side, watching the two of you carefully, before stepping forward. "Claire." His voice is quiet, measured. "Did you talk to her?" He asks despite you being close enough for him to ask you himself.

Your stomach tightens, but Claire doesn’t falter. She tilts her head slightly, fingers flexing against yours before letting go, only for a second, to smooth out her dress, like the conversation is nothing.

"It’s handled," she says smoothly. And then, before Lionel can say another word, she pulls you flush against her side, her arm wrapping securely around your waist. It’s subtle. To anyone else, it would look natural, just a casual display of affection. But you can feel the tension in her grip, the way she needs to keep touching you, grounding herself in you.

Lionel studies the two of you for a moment, then nods, exhaling as if that’s one less thing to worry about. "Good," he mutters before stepping away to refill his drink.

Before you can say anything, before you can even react, Claire turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple, murmuring so only you can hear-

"I need you tonight, baby."

Your breath catches, heat curling in your stomach.

And then Miles claps his hands together, grinning like a man who’s never been told no in his life. "Alright, Disruptors!" he calls out. "Let’s hit the club!"

The group erupts into practiced cheers, Peg already groaning as Birdie takes her hand and spins her toward the exit, Whiskey laughing as she leans into Duke’s side.

Claire finally loosens her grip on you, but only enough to take your hand again, threading your fingers together. And as the group moves toward the waiting speedboats, whisking you off toward whatever exclusive, hedonistic paradise Miles has planned, Claire stays right by your side. Like she’s afraid to let go.

The speedboat cuts through the waves, sleek and powerful, carrying you all toward the glittering neon of the exclusive club Miles has chosen for the night. The air is thick with salt and expensive perfume, the promise of excess and indulgence humming between each crashing wave.

Claire hasn’t let go of you once.

Her arm stays wrapped securely around your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress, like she’s making sure you don’t slip away. And you don’t fight it. Even with your stomach twisting, even with the sick weight of what’s coming, you let her hold you.

And then, like the universe just had to test you, Miles slides up beside you both, that smug, practiced grin in place.

"You’re not still upset, are you?" His voice is smooth, faux-concerned, but there’s something pointed beneath it. Something sharper. He glances between you and Claire, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "We Disruptors stick together through everything. We help each other. Lift each other up." His gaze lingers on you, searching. "You get that, right?"

Claire’s fingers tighten slightly against your waist.

You feel sick. But you don’t show it. Instead, you smile. Soft. Sweet. A performance so flawless it would make any politician proud.

"Claire makes the decisions," you say smoothly, tilting your head slightly, watching as Miles’ smirk flickers just the slightest bit. "I trust her judgment."

And then, before he can say another word, you turn fully into Claire, letting your body relax against her, nuzzling into the warm curve of her neck. It’s for her. Because you can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she’s holding herself together with sheer force of will. And if this is what she needs, if she needs you to play this game, then you will too.

Because, for all her power, all her dominance, she is terrified.

And she needs you.

Claire exhales, long and slow, and you feel the way her grip softens, just slightly. The way she presses her lips to your temple in silent gratitude.

Miles watches for a beat longer, then lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Man," he muses, sipping his drink. "You really do have good taste, Claire."

The words are harmless. On the surface. But you know what he’s really saying. You don’t react. Claire doesn’t either. And as the speedboat slows, the flashing lights of the club reflecting in the water around you, you only hold onto Claire a little tighter.

Because this night is far from over.

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#kathryn hahn #claire debella #claire debella x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #kathryn hahn x reader

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