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dearieshima · 8 months ago

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determined

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷feat. xavier is determined to get your virginity before leaving philos.

His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you open for his relentless assault. "Look at how deep I am," he panted, watching as he pistoned in and out of your tightness. "Look how well we fit together."

c.w spoilers to xavier's myth, dubcon, groping, scummy!xavier, coercion/manipulation, cherry popping, handjob, fingering, licking fingers after jizzing on them, jealousy, 4k+ words, halfway proofread

On the night of Xavier’s Gladius ceremony, he returned to the palace with a newly discovered understanding. Amidst the celebration, he pulled his father, the king, aside for a private conversation. He presented an irregular protocore to his father, its life force still pulsating in his hand.

“Shouldn't the protocore warrant a formal inspection?” Xavier asked, voice laced with suspicion.

“The lightblade deemed you worthy,” his father replied dismissively, his fingers absently tracing the protocore.

Xavier pressed, “Is there no need for formalities? Or are you unwilling? A heart was once in this protocore–am I mistaken?”

A flicker of tension tightened the king's jaw as he pocketed the protocore. “...I knew you'd catch on.”

The king immediately caught Xavier off, witnessing the disgust in his son’s eyes. “However, it is a necessary duty of the crown prince. It is also the king's responsibility.”

Xavier's mouth widened, and for a minute he stood there in silence. He then turned sharply, storming out without looking back, ignoring his father’s calls. His decision was already made.

He strode into the crowded hall, hoping to shake off his father’s gaze when he spotted you. His eyes darkened.

You were laughing at a joke some man had made, holding a flute of champagne. The dress you wore barely skimmed your knees, and Xavier noticed the man's eyes were fixed and imaginative, longing to see it up to your stomach.

You were a lamb among a den of wolves. If he left too soon, the pack would descend upon your fresh meat. He couldn't leave Philos without sinking his teeth into you first, marking you as his territory to warn others until his return.

He maneuvered toward you, brushing off congratulatory pats and embraces along the way. At one point, Jeremiah slung an arm around his shoulders, only to be harshly shrugged off, as Xavier’s focus remained locked on you. Jeremiah noticed his gaze and, not wanting to interfere, took a long sip of champagne and slipped away.

When Xavier finally reached you, he wrapped a hand firmly around your arm, his eyes flashing a silent warning to the other man.

“Come with me.”

"Hm? Why?”

Xavier's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. Did you not notice how the other man had been ogling you?

“I have something I need to show you. It's urgent.”

Without waiting for a response, he guided you out of the ballroom, his hand gripping your arm firmly. He guided you out of the ballroom and steered you through the corridor of the palace, his steps determined and purposeful. His hand remained on your arm, his grip firm and possessive. When you reached his room, he ushered you inside.

You perched on his bed, still holding your champagne, swinging your legs. “So?” you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you twirled the drink in your hands. “What’s so urgent?”

Xavier shut the door with a soft click, then slowly turned to face you, a strange expression on his face. He reached over, took the flute from your hand, and placed it on his dresser. “Don’t drink that.”

You frowned, almost pouting. “Hey!”

He ignored your protest, “he could’ve slipped something into it.”

He strode to the window, pausing. “Besides, I want you clear-headed for what I’m about to show you, that's so urgent.” He pulled open the curtains, revealing a brilliant, star-studded sky. The sight drew you to your feet, and you stepped over, awestruck.

Xavier stood close behind you to make space. His chest brushed against your back as he rested his chin on your head, his warm breath fanning over your hair.

“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” he whispered, voice low in your ear. He pointed upward, guiding your gaze. “See? Just above the dipper—that’s the star of our planet.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you spotted the tiny glimmer in the sky, remembering your talks about eloping there. You’d joked about it, but seeing it now made your heart ache with a longing. “It’s beautiful…”

Xavier chuckled, the low sound making your skin tingle. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until your body was pressed flush against his.

Your breath caught, your heart thudding wildly. “X-Xavier…”

He held you tighter, his hand splaying across your waist. "You should be more careful," he murmured. "Don't you realize how many men in there were looking at you the same way I was?”

“The way you…?”

“—Like a piece of meat.” He was unaware he was contradicting himself. “You're too naive and innocent, and they were preying on it. If I hadn't taken you away..."

He leaned down, his lips just inches away from yours. He hesitated, as though he might ask permission, a question lingering in his darkening gaze. It died as he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a gentle yet assertive kiss. He drew you closer, his tongue exploring with confident ease.

He was desperate; you could feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way he kissed you as if he was starved for you.

You melted into the kiss, your hands lifting to cradle his face.

Encouraged by your response, he gently lowered you back onto the bed, his forehead resting against yours as he followed you down. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the deep, unspoken yearning in his touch.

“Xavier—” Your protest was cut off as he deepened the kiss, his lips capturing your voice, drowning any resistance as he poured himself into the moment.

You was a bit tipsy, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions, making you pliant beneath his touch. Xavier's lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a blazing path of desire on your flushed skin. He pushed you down, straddling your hips as he drank in the sight of you splayed out before him.

“X-Xavier…?”

Your clothes were rumpled, your hair tousled, your cheeks stained with a becoming flush. Xavier swallowed hard, his pulse racing as he finally had you right where he wanted you. This was what he'd been fantasizing about, dreaming of, for so long. And now, with you soft and willing beneath him, he couldn't hold back any longer.

His hands roamed your curves, slipping beneath your clothing to caress the silky skin beneath. He needed to feel you, all of you, with no barriers between you both. His fingers found the zipper of your dress and tugged it down but you pushed his chest, knocking him out of his delusion.

He blinked, as if surprised you would do that.

"What's the matter?" He murmured, his voice gruff. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, pushing it up, revealing more of your skin.

"X-Xavier..." You repeated, flushed. You scooted further into the bed, away from him until your back pressed against the headboard.

He followed, his hand slowly trailing back up your thigh, sending shivers through your body. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice coaxing. "No one has to know. It can be our little secret." His fingers reached the hem of your dress, slowly inching it up.

“N-No…” you stammered, reaching down to hold your skirt in place. “I… I don’t…”

Xavier’s face fell, his fingers curling into the fabric, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You don’t want this?” he asked, voice low. “I though…–You were kissing me.”

“You kissed me back, you let me…” he continued, his voice trailing off as he looked away, shoulders slumping. “Why did you let me, just to pull away?”

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I… I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought… it was just a kiss. Then it got too fast…”

"Too fast? Why was it too fast?" He glanced up, his brows knitted in frustration. "We've known each other for a while. We're alone. Why are you acting so shy all of a sudden?”

"I, I don't know..." You whimpered. "I don't... I don't know... Xavier, I…”

"You don't know, you don't know," he repeated. "You've been teasing me all this time, sending me mixed signals. And now, when I'm finally giving you what you want, you're pushing me away?”

You opened your mouth but closed it again, struggling to find the right words. “Xavier, it’s not… I just… You’re a prince…”

His lips pressed together, eyes dimming, reminded of the title he hated. "I'm a prince, so what?" His voice was soft, almost resigned. "Do you think that means I can't have you? That I don't have any feelings? That I can't desire you like any man would?”

“It’s not that… you're just…” you stammered, cheeks heating. “You’re meant for someone else, Xavier…”

"Someone else? Who are you to decide that? I don't want someone else, I want you. I've always wanted you." His expression softened, though his frustration was clear. He traced circles with his thumb on your foot. "Don't you want me?”

You bit your lip, finally looking up at him. “I… I like you, Xavier. More than… than I probably should.”

“Then why push me away?” he asked, voice thick with disappointment. “If you like me… then let me have you.”

“I… I don’t know, Xavier…”

He sighed. "You don't know again. Why don't you know?”

"Because I'm scared, Xav…”

"You're scared?" he echoed, his eyes softening. "Scared of what? Me?” Perhaps you've heard the rumors of him frightening away any students who showed interest in you; his father who showed an interest in your heart.

"N-No, that's not true," you pouted, fumbling nervously with your fingers. "I... I've never done it... This before... I…”

"So... you're scared because it's your first time?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat. “Yes…”

He remained silent for a moment, his fingers lightly caressing your hand. "I didn't know," he whispered, though it was a lie. In truth, he was well aware. It was he who had kept you pure, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to claim your innocence for himself. He would never allow another man to take what rightfully belonged to him.

“But Xavier… I’m not sure I’m ready…”

His body tensed again at your refusal. He wanted you, and he was determined to ease your hesitation.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice warm and reassuring. "You like me, I like you. You don’t want anyone else, and neither do I. Wouldn't it feel right to do it with someone who’s been by your side your whole life, someone you love and could trust, instead of a stranger?"

He held your gaze, "those other men... they wouldn't take care of you like I would. They wouldn't be gentle–they wouldn't take their time with you. They'd just use you, Y/N.”

In your silence, Xavier took it as a small victory. Seeing you listening to him, processing his words, gave him hope that he was getting through to you, that you were listening to his reasoning. He pushed forward, continuing in a low, husky tone.

"They wouldn't treasure you like I would. They wouldn't make love to you the way I would. They wouldn't want to... to protect you, and cherish you, like I do.”

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, feel nervousness in your body as his fingers continued their path up your thigh, caressing your skin softly. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his voice a low plea.

"Please... let me show you what it could be like... with me.”

Xavier's lips slowly melded into yours, breaking the final barrier of your resolve. His tongue brushed softly against your lips, testing, seeking entry as he drew you deeper into the kiss, making it clear he wanted all of you. When your mouth opened, he slipped in without hesitation, claiming the moment entirely. He explored each part of your mouth, tasting and savoring, leaving no doubt of his intent. His body pressed against yours, his weight grounding you, pinning you with a warmth that left you breathless.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin. He gripped your hips, pulling you closer to him, as if trying to merge your bodies into one.

He could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, the way your hands clung to his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself. He reveled in your response, the way you whimpered and mewled in his mouth, the way your body reacted to his every touch.

The heat of his mouth seared your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, each one more intense than the last. Your head lolled back, giving him better access as he nipped and sucked, marking you as his. The sting of his teeth on your sensitive flesh sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

His hands roamed your body with a desperate urgency, as if he couldn't get enough of you. They slid under your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breasts. You gasped as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

"G-Gentle…" you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice rough. "I'll make it up to you."

His hands roamed your curves, one cupping your breast through the silky material. With a swift tug, he pulled the dress and your bra down, freeing your breasts from their confines. They spilled out, immediately pebbling without the warmth of your bra.

His eyes darkened with lust as he drank in the sight of you. He wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you flush against him as he dipped his head to capture a nipple between his lips. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

His other hand came up to massage your neglected breast, kneading the soft flesh. He switched between your peaks, lavishing each one with attention until you were writhing against him, desperate for more.

Xavier released your breast with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple. He trailed kisses up your chest, between your breasts, along your collarbone, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours as he deepened the kiss.

One hand tangled in your hair, angling your head to give him better access. The other slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, before dipping between your thighs. He cupped your mound, his fingers rubbing slow circles over your clothed sex, inciting a hiss from you.

"You're so wet already," he smiled, his voice a low murmur.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You lifted your hips to assist him, the cool air infiltrating from the open window hitting your heated skin. “X-Xavier…”

He smiled as he saw how wet you were. He spread your legs apart and ran his hand along your inner thigh, spreading them wider. "So pretty," he whispered, his eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He reached out and rubbed his thumb over your clit, making you jump.

“Relax," he whispered, his voice gentle. His touch became firmer, his thumb slowly rubbing circles over your hot, swollen nub. He watched your face intently, memorizing every gasp, every flush of your cheeks, every dilation of your pupils. "Have you touched yourself before?"

You nodded.

"Show me," he demanded, his voice low. He wanted to see what you liked, what you didn't. He wanted to know everything. He brought his other hand up to play with your breasts, pinching and rolling your peaks as he continued to toy with your core.

You peered up at him incredulously. "Xavier…–!"

"Please," he whispered. "I want to know. I want to know what you like, what feels good. Show me, please." His touch was hentley, coaxing.

Slowly, tentatively, your hand drifted downward, brushing over the soft curls at the apex of your thighs. Xavier's breath hitched as you parted your folds, revealing the glistening pink flesh beneath. "That's it," he encouraged, his gaze locked on your movements.

Your thighs clamped shut around your plunging fingers, but Xavier forcefully pried them apart. "Keep them spread," he instructed.

You let out a desperate whine, groping your breast as you frantically pumped your fingers in and out of your dripping slit.

"Shh," he soothed, his eyes never leaving your hand. "Add another finger. Stretch yourself for me."

"I-I can't..." you protested weakly.

He nodded his head as he slowly pushed one of his alongside yours, stretching you deliciously wide. "Yes you can," he breathed. His digit trailed down to join yours, stroking that spongy sweet spot deep inside. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around the stretch.

"Right there?" he asked, his voice low. He crooked his fingers inside of you, pressing against that spot over and over again. He watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you gasped. "Come for me.”

Your back arched off the bed as ecstasy crashed over you in waves, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as you reached your peak.

His dark eyes were transfixed, watching with rapt attention as his hand worked you through your release, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the sheets, spent and trembling. Slowly, he withdrew your slick finger from your dripping core and brought them to his lips. His tongue darted out, curling around your fingers as it lapped your essence, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

He leaned down and kissed you hard, his tongue sliding into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. His hands flung to his pants and began to unfasten his belt with eagerness.

As his pants fell away, your eyes widened at the sight of his impressive manhood standing at full attention. The swollen head glistened with pearlescent drops of precum, the color a striking contrast to the milky smoothness of his skin. Prominent veins ran along the underside, pulsing with his heartbeat. He was magnificent, a work of art sculpted by stars itself.

"Sit up.”

You complied, your movements languid as you propped yourself up on your knees. Your breasts swayed enticingly with the motion, nipples pebbled and begging for attention. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily, drinking in every curve and valley.

He took your hand and guided it to his throbbing member, wrapping your fingers around his impressive girth. "Touch me," he breathed, "like this.” He showed you, moving your hand up and down his length.

As your fingers closed around him, he let out a low groan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. "Just like that," he encouraged.

You swallowed hard, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. "Is this okay?" You asked softly, his length growing even harder in your grip.

"Squeeze a little tighter," he instructed, his voice strained with pleasure.

Focusing intently, you squeezed just as he asked, marveling at the way his shaft pulsed in your palm. Your eyes were glued to where your hand met his flesh, watching in fascination as you pumped him, his swollen head disappearing and reappearing with each stroke.

He hissed through his teeth, his head falling back. "Just like that," he praised. His hips jerked forward, his body tensing. "Harder," he groaned. He brought your other hand up to play with his balls, showing you how to gently roll and squeeze them.

He gripped your wrist, his breathing growing ragged. "Keep...keep doing that," he hissed. He thrust into your hands, his movements growing jerky. "I'm… I'm going to..." He broke off, his whole body convulsing as he came in your hands.

He threw his head back, tendons straining in his neck as he gulped. Releasing your hand, he gripped his own thighs, fingers digging into the firm flesh.

You gazed at your palm, glistening with his copious release. Mimicking his earlier actions, you brought your hand to your lips, tongue swirling around your fingers to lap up every drop of his thick, salty essence.

His eyes were riveted on your display. With a sigh, he asked you to lay back once more. Seizing your hips, he yanked you towards him, his face flushed and debauched, mouth agape. He reached out and gently spread your thighs, stepping between them, the swollen head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance.

“Condoms…!” You cried out, “Xavier, what about–”

"Shh, don't worry about that now," he said. "I'll pull out, I promise.”

His hungry gaze raked over your quivering form, committing every dip and swell to memory. "Don't look so nervous," he crooned. “I'm right here.”

"Be gentle..." You breathed. “Please.”

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. You were adorable. "I'll be gentle.”

His fingers delved between your thighs, parting your slick folds to reveal your glistening entrance. He groaned at the sight. "So pretty.”

He then rubbed his thick head against your wetness, coating himself with your fluids. He pressed against your hole, his hips slowly pushing forward. He watched your face, his own contorted in concentration. "Breathe in," he instructed softly.

And before you actually could, he thrusted in.

“A-Ah!”

Tears streamed down your face as he gradually pushed deeper into your tight heat. He paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to his impressive girth stretching you open. His fingers tenderly caressed your cheek, wiping away the salty drops. "You're doing so well," he praised softly. "Just a little more." With one powerful thrust, he hilted himself fully inside you, breaking through your barrier.

A sharp cry escaped your lips at the sudden sting of pain mixed with overwhelming fullness. Your nails dug into the sheets as you gripped them for dear life. "Wait... ngh... I can't..." you whimpered, trembling beneath him.

Xavier captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries. "Shh, you're okay. I'm all the way inside now," he murmured against your lips. He held still, letting you adjust to the intense new sensations as your body stretched to accommodate him. "Open your eyes. Focus on me and you'll forget the pain."

"Hmgh..."

He began to set at a slow, rhythmic pace, his hips gently rocking against yours. He grunted each time he bottomed out inside you. "Look at me," he commanded gruffly. "Open your eyes and look at me." He reached out and gently tilted your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

Your body clenched around him, the initial sting of pain gradually melting away into waves of pleasure. A breathy moan escaped your lips as you felt yourself surrender to the newer sensations.

Xavier's face tightened, and his head fell forward between his shoulders. "God, when you do that…" he hissed through gritted teeth. He continued to pump his hips, his rhythm growing faster. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed hoarsely. "I'm gonna go a little faster."

You complied and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer. When he mentioned he was going to pick up the pace, you weren't prepared for the relentless pounding that followed.

Bracing himself on his hands, he began to ruthlessly slam into you over and over again. Leaning down, he claimed your mouth in a rough, dominating kiss, muffling your desperate moans. His hips moved like a machine, driving into you with animalistic cruelty.

"G-Gentle...! Mgh–! P-Please!" you whimpered against his lips.

But Xavier was lost in his own pleasure, ignoring your pleas as he continued his merciless assault on your body. "You can handle it," he huffed. Gripping your hips, he adjusted your position, allowing him to plunge even deeper inside you. "You're too tight… I'll be gentle after I'm finished breaking you in."

"X-Xavier…! Xav–Ngh!"

He reached between your legs and grabbed your wrists, pulling them above your head as he continued to ravage you. His face was a mask of intense concentration as he continued to thrust into you, his hips moving like a piston. "You're so loud," he hissed, his voice thick with passion.

"Xavier! Xavier!"

His thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, allowing you a moment to catch your breath before he hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders and folded you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing your cervix with each powerful stroke. Your back arched off the bed as your arms wrapped around his neck, nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin. A strangled moan tore from your throat.

"It's too much… please... please..." You babbled, your voice hitching with every thrust to your cervix. "Xavier... it hurts…!"

"It's supposed to," he grunted. "It feels good, though, right? Just bear it a little more. I'm almost done." He let your legs drop, pushing your knees to your chest as he pounded into you.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving long, ten crimson trails in their wake. Xavier grunted in pain, his face contorting as he thrust into you harder. "Mark me all you want," he huffed. "I'll mark you right back." He buried his face in your neck and bit down hard, sucking on your skin as he continued to thrust into you.

"Ahh! Yes! Fuck!" you cried out, your words dissolving into incoherent babble. "You prom–eh…! you promised…!”

Xavier's eyes were closed, his face buried in your neck as he fucked you without a care in the world. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echoed in the room, mixing with your screams and pleas. "God… fuck, fuck," he chanted to himself, his voice muffled against your skin.

"You're so meannnn," you whimpered, drawing out the word as a sob caught in your throat.

Xavier's eyes flashed, dark and feral, as he lifted his head. "I'm mean?" he growled, voice dripping with mock hurt. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you flush against him. "You're the one getting off on this, aren't you? I can feel how wet you are." To punctuate his point, he reached between your legs and rubbed your clit roughly, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

He gripped your chin firmly, forcing your gaze to meet his intense stare. "Look at me," he commanded, voice low and dominant. "I want to see those eyes glazed when I make you come undone. When I claim every inch of you as mine.”

Xavier groaned, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. "You're gonna make such a pretty mess."

The words were like a match to gasoline, igniting the inferno raging inside you. With a keening cry, you shattered, your walls clamping down and bursting as ecstasy consumed you.

Xavier's eyes widened as he felt your walls clench around him, your orgasm triggering his own. "Ah! Yes…–yes!" he cried, his hips stuttering. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his hot seed spurting against your cervix.

Xavier let out a low groan, his body trembling as he filled you. His grip on your thighs loosened, his hand caressing the marked skin gently. As he came down from his high, Xavier's pace slowed, his hips rolling forward in shallow thrusts as he milked the last of his release into you.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the world fading away until only the pulsing pleasure remained. With a final shuddering gasp, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, your consciousness slipping away.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you went limp beneath him. He peppered your face with gentle kisses, his touch at odds with the rough way he'd just taken you. "Shh, sleep now," he murmured softly, "You did so well.”

As much as he didn’t want to leave, he gently began to slip out of bed, his body trembling, spent. He pulled the blankets up around you, making sure you were wrapped warmly before crossing the room to close the window. Quietly, he turned to his closet, carefully reaching for his lightseeker uniform and slipping it on, moving with a gentle but determined grace.

He searched for his sword, finally spotting the star-tasseled handle hidden under the bed. Just as he reached for it, he felt a soft weight on his head, your hand, draped sleepily over him.

He froze, worried he might've woken you–worried he would have to explain he wasn't abandoning, but saving you–, but then you let out a soft, contented snore, and he couldn’t help but smile. Slowly, he lifted your hand, pressing a tender kiss to the back before leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead, damp with extertion.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “I love you.”

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jaylaxies · 3 months ago

Text

THE ONLY EXCEPTION

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, brother's best friend trope, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, penetration, breeding, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of jake (brother) and other enha members, mentions of karina from aespa, Imk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 10.7k words

SYNOPSIS: Jake was an overprotective brother and he did not fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. So, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? It most certainly doesn't help that it’s Lee Heeseung, to whom, you are strictly off limits.

PLAYLIST: here!

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 anonnie(s) requested for me to make a heeseung version of my haechan fic so here we are! (both fics are mine) i hope you guys enjoy it! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

The music blasting from the speakers, reverberating around the room full of university students, the wretched smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes lingered in the air as your sharp eyes adorned with perfectly winged liner focused around the room, greeting everyone who was shocked to find you at the party.

It felt good to be back.

Leaving for a boarding school wasn’t on your bucket list, yet it was an opportunity you couldn’t miss, the school being a prestigious one with a degree that would only be helpful in the future, which left you no choice but to disappear for three years, only to suddenly reappear today, straight making an appearance at the party.

“Told you, your celebrity status is still intact,” Karina winked at you, her being the only friend who was stubborn enough to not break contact with you, and you loved her for the same.

Raising your brow at her, you took another swing of beer which you had loosely gripped in your hand, “it’s not mine, it all belongs to my brother,” you said, “I don’t want this attention, especially when it’s only valid because I’m Jake’s sister who had a glow up over my time of not being in the town.”

Your brother was well known in the university—the same university which you’d be attending soon along with the people who also attended the same middle school as you, however, his reputation preceded him as he, along with his friends, had turned into the group all girls desired to be with, yet they never let anyone stick around for long.

Settling down wasn’t their forte, unfortunately.

People snogging around every corner of the house wasn’t a sight you were willing to witness, granted you had a long flight and were exhausted. Not having any ride back home was another factor which made you approach your brother—who wasn’t locked up in a room with some girl for once.

“I wanna go home,” you huffed, standing next to Jake, who was quick to excuse himself from the conversation he was having.

“I can’t drive you back, I’m buzzed dude,” he says, “my baby sis is all grown up,” he looks your way, patting your head before you step back, disgusted at his overly affectionate big brother act.

He acted as if everything was normal when in reality, he was the one who always deprived you of every single thing, not allowing you to go out, not allowing you to meet boys, and most importantly, not letting his friends interact with you.

“Ew, drink this and sober up.” You passed on the water bottle in your hand to him, “how am I supposed to go back? Should I take a cab?”

“No, that’s not safe. You wait here, I’ll get my friend to drop you off,” he asked you to wait by the front door.

The shock on your face was evident, yet it was better to get a ride with one of his friends rather than fending for yourself this late at night. With a nonchalant nod, you walked away, waiting by the door.

It wasn’t hard for Jake to find his group, they were sprawled across the sofa as if they owned it, surrounded by girls sitting around them; or on their lap.

“Who’s not drunk here?” He asked, straight up eliminating Sunghoon from the list, who was taking big gulps from his can, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “minus Hoon.”

Heeseung was quick to ignore the girl who was leaning down to kiss him, eyes tired yet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner—a look he went for whenever a party was concerned.

“I am sober. Driver duties, why?” He asked.

Even though there was nothing but truth in his words, it would be hard to accept it, provided that his eyes were the perfect shade of brown which harboured the ideal amount of brightness during the day, and just the exact amount of intoxication at night.

“I had one beer,” Jay said, sitting with a bored expression on his face, probably not in the mood to entertain the girls at the given moment, unlike Sunghoon and Jungwon, who basked in the attention of them.

“Y/n wants to go back home,” Jake explained, grabbing another can of beer, “and I obviously can’t go to drop her off.”

“Y/n? Is she back?” Heeseung asked, playing with his silver rings before unbuttoning the top of his black button up, exposing his chain clad neck and clavicle, which was valid given how hot the room was.

“Yeah, she came back in the afternoon today. Jay can you drop her back home?” Jay chuckles at the offended look Heeseung threw his way.

“Of course man,” Jay agreed.

“He’s drunk too, in case you overlooked that, I’m the sober one right now,” Heeseung said, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah, dude there’s no way I’m letting you go alone with my sister,” Jake laughed, “lord knows you can’t keep it in your pants,” he added.

Heeseung was quick to raise his eyebrow, scoffing, pushing his tongue inside his cheek, “and he can?” He asked, pointing at Jay.

“He knows where to draw a line, unlike you, and she’s my baby sister, I’m not risking anything,” Jake explained enthusiastically, as if it was a joke, because it caused an uproar of laughter, which only infuriated Heeseung more.

“I know when to stop,” he said, annoyed.

“You didn’t know that when you fucked our principal’s daughter,” Sunghoon provided.

“And when you did so in his office, with cameras installed,” Jungwon not so helpfully added.

Heeseung agrees that they were right to a certain extent, but their lack of trust was always something that bothered him. If there was someone who actually didn’t know where to stop, that would be them, because he did not appreciate the insults thrown his way.

It also didn’t help how he genuinely wanted to see you after years of you being away, but now his mood was ruined, courtesy of Jake.

Jake then proceeded to list out a few more things as to prove that Heeseung wasn’t fit for being anywhere close to his sister, “I just don’t trust you with her,” he shrugged as if he wasn’t insulting you, asking Jay to drop you off, ending the conversation.

Meanwhile, it had been a solid seven minutes and twenty six seconds since you started waiting for Jake’s friend to come and pick you up, and you made sure to put the time into good use by observing your surroundings yet again.

In the farther right corner, you spotted your old crush, Choi Beomgyu, who was in your ethics class. He never paid attention to you, granted your brother made sure to warn the whole school population that you were off limits.

You couldn’t deny, it was good to see him happy and you swore you noticed him giggling too, talking to your old classmate, who you remember was called one of the beauties of your school, before he pulled her into a sweet kiss.

Your observation was cut short when one of Jake’s friends, whom you had not seen in the past three years appeared in front of you with a small smile. Park Jongseong, or more commonly, Jay, was charming from the bottom to the top.

“Welcome back, Y/n,” he smiled, voice slutry, which came naturally to him.

You offered him a smile in return, shamelessly checking him out, he had gotten buff. You were not expecting him to come here, but then again, your subconscious wanted to see that one boy whose eyes reminded you of honey and doe.

You wondered how he looked now. Does he even remember you? A sigh left your glossy lips as you admitted that you still might have a teeny tiny crush on Lee Heeseung after all this while, and deep inside, you wished to see him again.

With a smile, you followed Jay to the car as he engaged you in a conversation. It was probably the first time he had been given the permission to interact with you, and even he couldn’t deny, he loved to see the development, the confidence that you had come back with.

While you were getting back home, Heeseung was fuming with anger, kicking the pavement as he had left the party, his mind formulating ideas for a plausible revenge against everyone. He was rebellious, he’d give himself that, yet in the depth of his heart, he meant well, not wanting to hurt anyone intentionally, only for the sake of having unharmed fun.

It wasn’t as if his friends were any different, so why should he be the one who’s labelled to be the worst of them all? This time, he wanted to hurt someone on purpose, the someone being Jake Sim.

Solution? Get as close to you as humanly possible—which would also mean that he’d have to work to get a place in your heart. But he didn’t mind it, especially when he had liked you all this while.

Jake wanted him to stay away? Tough luck because Heeseung wanted you.

Thinking about you reminded him of when you first met through Jake, he had priorly informed everyone to stay away from you, despite the fact you were in fifth grade, almost isolating you from the world. However, it wasn’t enough for Heeseung to stop greeting you with his pretty smiles, which caused you to smile back at him too.

That’s the most exchange you guys have had over these years.

Heeseung was gonna change that, and so, he found himself walking towards your house, knowing well that Jake won’t be around to stop him, and your parents would be dead asleep given that it was past midnight.

Climbing up your room wasn’t hard, especially when he was aware of the ladder kept in your backyard, but being silent after entering your room through a window was tough.

The lights were dim, just how you liked it when you slept. With a few steps, Heeseung reached your bed, eyes fixated on your sleeping figure.

A small, genuine smile graced his face when he noticed the small pout on your moisturized lips. Adorable—that’s how he perceived you, yet there was no denying how much you had grown up to be prettier than ever, and he couldn’t help but caress your cheek with his thumb, even the slightest touch making you stir in your sleep, causing him to chuckle.

Was it creepy for him to be in your room as you slept? Yes. Was he in his right mind despite being sober? No. However, he had good intentions.

Intentions to have you all to himself.

You weren’t sure if it was a dream or had Heeseung actually visited you at night, though, the latter idea seemed nothing less than a delusion. Maybe it was your brain playing tricks with you, but it wasn’t your biggest concern at the given moment as you wanted nothing more than to freshen up and eat.

What you did not expect was to see your mom catering the four boys sprawled across your living room, the guy in your dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen still.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mom sweetly pulled you in her embrace, gaining the attention of your brother and his friends, who were sitting together playing some video games.

“Good morning, mum,” you smiled, having missed her while you were away for school.

“Yo, I almost forgot you were back for a second,” Jake commented as your mom asked everyone to sit down.

You looked at him with a sour expression, “yeah, right. Cause there was no one to tell you that you’re wearing two different designs of socks,” you pointed out, getting a snigger out of Sunghoon, who passed you a sweet smile when you looked his way, averting his gaze within a second, a habit of all his friends who weren’t allowed to stare at you.

“Or that you’re wearing your T-shirt inside out,” you scrunch your nose as others see a very clueless Jake trying to get everything in order, your mom also amused by the sudden liveliness in the home, “no, but how are you this unaware about yourself?” You mused.

Jake didn’t get to reply or whine when the front door opened to reveal the guy of your dreams, quite literally.

Lee Heeseung came into the room as if he owned the place, your eyes fixated on his messy hair as he said hello to your mother, who was more than happy to see him here.

Heeseung was her favourite out of all Jake’s friends.

Other guys were quick to apologize to Heeseung, you wondered why, and Jake had apparently apologized on text last night for crossing the line.

He looked carefree and unbothered, so you didn’t ponder upon it much till he sat down next to you for breakfast, finally looking in your eyes.

You blinked once, focusing on his eyes which looked like they had honey swirling around them, his skin was tanned to the prettiest shade as he passed you a small smile, “hey, Y/n,” he acknowledged your presence, lips almost upturned into what seemed to be a smirk.

For a second, you couldn’t quite focus as you were too enthralled observing the little freckles scattered across his face, his soft pink lips—

Yeah, that thought shook you awake, “hey, Heeseung,” you greeted back, thinking that calling him Hee might just be too friendly.

“So, are we on for our trip tomorrow?” Jay asked, cutting your interaction short.

“Wait, what trip?” You asked, knowing that your parents were gonna be out for a business trip too, and you weren’t one to enjoy being home alone in such a big house.

“Didn’t Jake tell you?” Your mom asked and shook your head, throwing an accusatory look his way, “They all are having a stay in at Hee’s beach house.”

“And me? Am I supposed to be staying alone for what—how many days?” You asked, clearly not expecting this when you had just come back home after years.

“A week,” Jake informed, unaffected.

“I’m not staying home alone for a whole week, mum, this isn’t fair.” The distress was clear on your face.

“Call your friends over then,” your mom suggested.

“For a week? We’d rather go out for vacation too,” you pouted, not noticing the stare of two boys.

“Join the trip with Jake then,” she recommended, placing the fluffy pancake on your plate.

“What? Why? No,” Jake protested and the room bursted into a web of chaos with everyone discussing it.

Only Heeseung was silent, his eyes still on your face, admiring your side view shamelessly, but also careful not to give out his intentions in front of Jake.

“It’s a boys trip, mom. Y’know? Boy stuff,” he winced, trying to explain without explaining that all they planned on doing was drink, smoke and invite girls over, “guys, tell them?”

“Yeah—he’s right,” they all agreed, not maintaining eye contact, looking at each other awkwardly.

“Okay, since the beach house is Heeseung’s, why don’t we let him decide?” Your mom sighs, looking at Heeseung.

Now that the sole attention is on him, he tries to act clueless with a helpless look on his face, especially when you are looking at him with big eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Then he looked back at his friends, who clearly wanted the girl to go, minus Jake at least. Lastly, he looked at your mom, who only smiled, and that was enough of an excuse for Heeseung to say with the sweetest smile—

“Of course, Y/n and her friend are always invited.”

“He said yes,” you were on the phone, explaining the whole situation to Karina, knowing well that she’d be more than ready to accompany you for your rendezvous.

“He what?” She exclaimed, knowing that the boys would never take your side, especially in front of Jake.

“I know, mom sorta helped cause Heeseung never says no to mom, it’s like he’s her favourite child or something,” a humorous laugh left your lips.

“Well, he will be once he becomes your boyfriend,” Karina gushed, “we’ll make sure he notices you this time, we’ve got a whole week to make it work.”

You had rushed up the stairs and into your room as soon as the decision had been made, followed by the loud complaints of Jake—which you did not bother to hear, calling Karina to fill her in with the situation instead.

She was packing as you were speaking.

In all honesty, it never crossed your mind that you would actually want to seduce Heeseung, provided that he was Jake’s friend, which would lead to fights you definitely didn’t wish to be a part of, but you were an adult, so Jake held no authority over you.

There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all.

“I’m not giving you a ride,” Jake deadpanned when you got back downstairs, your mother looking at him with disappointment.

“I’ll take a cab then,” you rolled your eyes.

“No need, you’re taking two cars and it’s enough to fit you all,” your mom finally said, “who’s driving?”

“Me and Jake,” Heeseung replied, voice innocent as you turned to look his way, “Jake is taking the bigger one.”

“Is that so? All boys can go with Jake then. Won’t you give a lift to Y/n and Karina, Hee?” Your mom asked, knowing he won’t say no.

She was good at persuasion, unknowingly giving Heeseung the full opportunity to be with you, which is exactly what he was aiming for in the first place.

Heeseung only nodded earnestly, eyes almost shining as he looked back at you, “of course, you can ride with me,” he said, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Jake as your name rolled off his tongue, “Y/n.”

As if his voice and gaze wasn’t enough for you to stop breathing in a room full of people, the subtle smirk on his lips successfully had your knees buckling with anticipation.

Never in a million years have you thought that you’d be riding shotgun in Heeseung’s car, with him driving and humming along to songs under his breath. You had worn the shortest skirt you managed to find in your closet and the little trick had worked as you saw him staring at your legs when you first came downstairs, announcing that you and Karina were ready to leave for the trip.

Not only did it grab the attention of the boy you had been targeting, but also it garnered attention of Jay, who at least tried to act respectful by gulping and looking away.

Heeseung on the other hand believed that he should blatantly stare at the things which are to be admired, including your legs.

It didn’t take long for you guys to load your bags into his car, as the other one left ten minutes before you guys. Karina wasn’t a fan of long drives—two hours in your case, so she put on her AirPods and closed her eyes the second she got into the back seat, also to give you privacy with Heeseung.

He drove with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. The rings and chain adorning his body caught your attention for a second too long. His hands were definitely bigger than yours, veins popping out whenever he gripped the steering wheel.

The aura around him was too strong, as if he was a magnet ready to pull everyone towards him, you were no exception.

“Like the rings, darling?” He asked, eyes on the road with the corner of his lip upturned.

The question successfully broke your train of thoughts. It was probably the first conversation you had with him, excluding the usual greetings.

And he kick-started it by calling you darling.

“They’re—pretty,” you replied, not letting the nickname phase you, despite heat creeping up your neck.

His smile widened at your answer and he swiftly got a ring off his finger, passing it to you—again, without even looking your way.

“They’ll look prettier on you,” he says ever so smoothly, and you bite your lips, trying to stop the smile from widening as your fingers brush against his, taking the ring and inspecting the design, “don’t wear that in front of the boys though, they’ll flip.”

An amused chuckle left your lips, something which Heeseung did not expect, “why? Still scared of Jake and his empty threats?” You asked.

He pissed you off too much with his don’t come near my sister or I’ll make your life a living hell threat to others, and you were bitter about it.

“Now, why would I be scared of Jake?” He scoffed.

“Because you’re one of his friends who isn’t even allowed to look my way,” you said as a matter of fact, breath hitching the second you felt his fingers on your thigh, the warmth of his palm juxtaposing the cold metal of his rings.

The car was stopped at the red light, “I’ve always looked you in the eye, sweetheart,” he whispered, confirming his statement by turning his head and staring right into your eyes, the tension palpable as your gazes locked, the look being too alluring for you to break the eye contact.

His whole demeanour changed in a second when his serious expression morphed into a sweet smile, the kind that makes you melt right before he shifted his focus back on the road as if he hadn’t just provided you a sliver of hope about him being interested in you.

He, however, didn’t bother moving his hand which was gripping your thigh lightly, his fingers were long and looked exceptionally pretty on your skin. You couldn’t help but look out of the window, trying not to let your thoughts get out of hand.

It certainly didn’t help that he was singing explicit yet somewhat romantic songs with all his might while your best friend was sleeping peacefully in the backseat.

Heeseung loved every single reaction he got out of you, your little shivers when he caressed your thigh, your breath hitching for the very same reason midway a conversation, and your sweet blabber as you he initiated a conversation.

“How was school?” He asked after a while.

The conversation flowed smoothly after, the ride wasn’t long after all, his hand caressing your thigh throughout the journey, and you wished for it to be longer.

The beach house wasn’t a house apparently, but a mansion with how grand it was. Meaning, everyone would easily get their own rooms. Jake’s car was already parked as they reached earlier, but you saw Jay coming out when he heard the sound of Heeseung’s car, helping you take the bags inside with his ever so charming smile while Karina and you silently gushed about the beach view.

Others were busy preparing for the party that was to be held at night—which was news to you.

The interior was in the shades of black, white, and greys, matching Heeseung’s personality in a peculiar manner, granted that he was filled with colours of all sorts in himself.

You and Karina selected the adjacent rooms on the first floor, the balcony giving you a pretty view wasn’t something you’d want to miss out on. Heeseung occupying the room which was right in front of your room is another thing which boosted your excitement.

The next few hours flew by as you rested on the beach with Karina, soaking up warmth of the sand with the cold ocean waves reaching your toes. It felt peaceful.

“So, what are you gonna wear to woo Heeseung today?” Karina asked, sipping on her iced beverage.

The sun was about to set, your eyes never leaving the sky which displayed all shades of red, yellow and orange, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s no way they won’t be inviting girls, it was supposed to be a boys trip after all to get their dicks wet,” she said as a matter of fact.

You winced again, not having it in you to watch your brother surrounded by girls.

“And if Heeseung was flirting with you, then it’s your chance to flirt back now, given that Jake would be drunk beyond the point of recovery. Not to mention how you’ll have to do something so he doesn’t stray off and give attention to other girls,” Karina listed out.

She was right, it wasn’t like you were going to get this chance again, “red dress or black dress?” You asked with a playful smile and she squealed, rushing you into your room to help you get ready.

The music was blaring by the time you applied the last swatch of lipstick, smacking your lips for the colour to blend in perfectly, complementing your skin tone ever so perfectly. Karina doing the same beside you.

You weren’t sure how they managed to gather all this crowd for a party, granted you guys didn’t even live here, yet who would question these boys, an online invite and people would come running to attend their parties.

Which was the case at the given moment as well. The second you stepped out from your assorted room, you found Sunghoon practically eating a girl’s face off with how passionately they were kissing right beside the door, the music blaring in the background as you tried to overcome the initial shock of seeing your brother’s friend going what you’d consider wild.

Making your way downstairs, you put on your best confident expression, your eyes immediately looking around, trying to find a certain black haired guy.

Karina stopped you, pointing at the corner of the room where Heeseung was sitting with girls surrounding him, Jungwon right next to him, a scoff of disbelief leaving your lips when one of them oh so comfortably sat down on his lap, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally.

Yet you couldn’t deny just how effortlessly attractive he looked in that black button up, the first few buttons undone to reveal his chest. The eyeshadow enhancing the look of his eyes to appear more slutry than they already seemed to be.

Great. This is what you came on this trip for—to see Heeseung tilting the chin of a random girl, shoving his tongue inside her mouth.

This won’t do, you averted your gaze, going straight to get alcohol, any kind would do, you just needed a boost of confidence to work upon your plan. Karina knew exactly what you were up to, winking at you before wandering off in the crowd.

“Not dancing tonight?” Jay asked, standing right next to you as he poured himself a drink.

His presence made your job easier, especially when he looked so good tonight. His dark hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up as he was clad in all black, a simple chain adorning his slender neck.

Perfect bait to get a reaction out of Heeseung, (‘sorry Jay’ you thought to yourself).

If he’d bother to look your way, that is.

“Talking to me tonight? Not scared of my brother anymore?” Your lips curled up, amused.

That earned a laugh out of him, “he’s locked up in a room as we speak,” he said over the music. Translation: he was busy fucking someone and he won’t be here to monitor your moves.

Your nose scrunched, not wanting to think about your brother doing the deed. Jay walked alongside you as you took up his offer to dance, but also made sure that you could see Heeseung clearly with your spot.

His eyes turned your way for the first time tonight the second you started moving your body along to the rhythm. The distance was fair, yet it felt as if you were the only person in this room and he was the only spectator to your actions.

Jay’s hand came to rest on your waist, your body in sync with his moves, the proximity close and a blissful expression on your face.

Again, you subtly looked Heeseung’s way, only to find his eyes darker than ever, not straying away from you for even a second, the girl on his lap long forgotten as he couldn’t find a reason to give her his attention anymore.

Not when you were dancing with Jay, not when your dress rode up, revealing your thighs, not when Jay whispered in your ear and you chuckled, getting closer to him.

He couldn’t stand it, the muscle in his jaw clenched, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek with annoyance bubbling up in his body.

You turned around, only to find Heeseung missing from the spot he was sitting at. All of a sudden, you excused yourself from Jay and made your way around the room, to find him again and you failed to do so.

The room’s atmosphere got stuffy as the night progressed and you made your way upstairs to your room in need of fresh air which was very well provided by the grand balcony.

Just as you twisted the door knob, getting inside the room, you gasped as Heeseung closed the door behind you, pushing you against the wooden surface of the door, his scent taking over your senses seamlessly as you breathed in deeply.

“Hee—” you whispered, hyper aware of how close he was to you, his body pressed against yours in a way you could feel his torso muscles. His face tilted ever so slightly, just enough for your noses to brush against each other.

The position alone sent you into a state of frenzy, and he didn’t even let you finish speaking out his name as he chuckled darkly.

“Didn’t know you were into Jay, darling,” he whispered, causing you to gulp down the nervousness, which was of no use as your knees felt even weaker with his slender finger tracing your cheek, stopping right by your lips, “dancing with him while wearing the ring that I gave you.” His thumb caressing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “doesn’t really sound fair to me now, does it, baby?” He asked, stopping his actions and looking your right in the eye.

You couldn’t show him how affected you were with possessiveness laced tone, “I don’t see how it’s unfair, Heeseung,” you smiled sweetly, keeping your hand on his chest.

“Wrong,” he said in a beat, “his intentions aren’t pure,” he provided.

You chuckled, turning your face to the side for a second, “what about your intentions?” You dared to ask.

His hold on you tightened, “you wanna know my intentions?” He asked, voice so low it gave you goosebumps as he moved even closer to you, his lips on the verge of touching yours.

They never fully touched, your hand becoming a barrier between you two, “maybe some other day,” you whispered, the expression in his eyes unreadable, “someday when you don’t come here with tainted lips after kissing god knows how many girls,” you smiled tightly, pushing him aside, the alcohol only providing you with unadulterated courage.

He pulled you back, hand wrapped around your wrist so his torso was pressed against your back, which vibrated with his chuckles, “didn’t know it bothered you that much, pretty,” his lips touched your earlobe.

“It doesn’t,” you seethed out, trying not to sound breathless as you shrugged out of his hold, “besides, we mean nothing to each other. I won’t stop you from snogging anyone and you can’t stop me from dancing with anyone.”

That’s all you said before slipping out of his grasp, rushing in and closing the bathroom door behind you and breathing in deeply. The feeling of his touch still lingering on your body, he was jealous as you were and he was so close.

So close to kissing you.

Heeseung leaned against the door on the opposite side of you, “we mean nothing to each other?” He scoffed under his breath, the image of Jay’s hands on your waist coming back to his mind. He was wrong to pay attention to someone else, he admits, but now he was determined to give you all his attention.

“You’re mine, you just don’t know that yet,” he says, knowing you won’t be able to hear him, “all mine,” his tone was possessive still as he walked out of the room.

The boys woke up all hungover the next morning, while you and Karina snuck out of the mansion before others woke up, only to avoid Heeseung, which was almost funny given that you were here to get his attention.

Regardless, you sat in this cute cafe you found nearby, explaining the whole situation to your best friend. The slight smirk on her face gave away the fact that she was proud of you for not giving him attention last night. It’ll only make him want you more, she had said.

Jake called you right after you finished your meal, “where are you?” He asked, panicked, “don’t tell me you got kidnapped,” the horror was clear in his voice and you rolled your eyes, not understanding how his brain worked.

“I literally left a note on the fridge that I’ll be out for lunch and shopping, Jake,” you explained, almost laughing when you heard him say oh. He was standing right in front of the fridge apparently.

“Right, have fun,” he said, hanging up the call.

He wasn’t the best brother but he did care. At times, more than he needed to.

“Okay so here’s the plan,” Karina started to explain. She loved giving out ideas and they always worked, which is why you found yourself in the swimsuit store, purchasing the one which flattered your body in the best manner.

“And don’t lock your room at night. Knowing Heeseung, he would definitely give you a little visit after seeing you pull that stunt.”

The sun was setting and you were almost back at the mansion. You enjoyed the day and it was a great plan to get Heeseung out of your head, even though it wasn’t possible despite the fact that it had been only two days since you came back and met him again.

Tonight’s plan was to have a bonfire by the beach, grill meat and have a good time. Jake had finally accepted and asked everyone to tone down and make the trip more family friendly, hence the bonfire.

The place was empty when you got back in, and you saw the boys setting up the barbecue when you changed into your dress before making your way to join them.

“Remember the plan?” Karina asked and you nodded, loving the feel of cold sand beneath your foot.

Heeseung was the first one to notice your presence, his dark eyes fixated on your figure as you walked towards them, Jay being the second one as he smiled your way, to which you smiled back sweetly.

You still had Heeseung’s ring on as you approached the place where Heeseung and Jay were grilling the meat, Jake was sitting down and playing his guitar while Sunghoon and Jungwon sang along to the song, Karina being a great singer also joined those three.

“Can I have a taste?” You asked, looking at Jay with hopeful eyes.

The weather was cold yet the burning stare of a certain someone had you feeling all kinds of warmth, yet you didn’t look his way.

“Of course, say ah,” Jay said, eyes shining as he held the piece of meat for you and you gladly accepted it, your lips touching his fingers in a caress, the juicy taste making you hum out in pleasure.

In a second, you were turned around, “there’s something on your lips,” Heeseung muttered, expression stoic as he brushed his thumb on your lower lip, “all cleaned.”

You would have laughed at the jealousy had his action not been so intimidating, as if he was warning you not to do this.

“Thanks,” you said, voice extra sweet before you looked back at Jay who was confused at the exchange, “can I have more?” You asked.

“Here.” Heeseung shoved a plate in your hands before Jay could even reply, “enjoy your food,” he said, smiling but his eye twitched in the process, making you bite your lower lip to contain your laugh yet again and you sat down finally.

“Do you think the water would be cold right now?” Sunghoon asked no one in general, his intrusive thoughts winning.

“Why? Wanna take a dip?” Jake asked with a laugh, eyebrows raising once he realized that Sunghoon was serious about it.

“It’ll be fun,” he said as everyone laughed around him.

“There’s no light out here, Hoon,” Jungwon said.

“It’ll be fun.”

“The waves are strong too,” Jake reasoned.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, his vocabulary is limited,” Heeseung said, sitting by you as Jay handed over the plates to everyone, Jake sparing a glance to make sure Heeseung didn’t sit too close to you.

“We can go one hour after eating, just dip our toes in,” Karina suggested and you guys agreed as Jake resumed playing his guitar.

“Have more, Y/n.” Jay smiled, giving you more pieces to eat from his own plate.

Heeseung didn’t remember the last time he felt so pissed over something this small, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been two whole days since you made your comeback in his life but those two days were enough for him to want you, granted he did have a crush on you for the longest time, only now it wasn’t just your sweetness he was attracted to.

“Thank you, Jongie,” you beamed, the nickname only infuriating Heeseung more while you could see Jay blush faintly and you truly wondered how all these goofballs pulled girls so easily.

“Jongie,” Heeseung mocked under his breath, Karina noticing the atmosphere and slightly pushing you towards him.

“You’re doing brilliantly,” she whispered, “he looks like he’ll blow up anytime now.”

It felt nice, sitting in front of the bonfire while listening to others singing. You knew you were trying to make Heeseung jealous yet it was hard not to stare at his face, which basked in the glow of fire. He was already looking your way, noticing how you still had his ring on, which only tempted him to pull you on his lap, yet he knew it was impossible with your brother monitoring his every move.

“Let’s go into the water,” Sunghoon repeated, as Jake smirked.

“On the count of one, two,” he said, and didn’t even finish before your eyes widened as your brother came to pick you up in hopes of throwing you into the cold water.

Jake was escapable. Sunghoon on the other hand, not so much and it didn’t help how they both had lifted you up despite your thrashing and whining and ran towards the water.

“Jake I swear I’ll kill you—” you warned and Karina had the time of her life recording this whole scene.

Jungwon continuously reminded the boys to stay safe while also doing god’s work by providing you with the flashlight set on the highest setting from his phone.

Within a second, you were screaming and thrashing as the boys dropped you into the cold water, laughing and doing the same with a horrified Jungwon before rushing towards the mansion, especially Jake, leaving you all cold.

Heeseung rushed to close the flashlight.

You were wearing white, and the water only made your clothes look transparent, which is why Heeseung was taking his jacket off, but yet again, Jay was quick to wrap his leather jacket around your shivering frame.

He was glad that you were covered but the annoyance was clear on his face, the amusement long gone even with you muttering and plotting Jake and Sunghoon’s murder with Jungwon.

Nor did he enjoy the sight of Jay taking you back to the villa, acting all protective as if he was your knight in shining armour.

“You’re making it so obvious that you’re jealous,” Karina quipped, noticing how everyone walked ahead of them, rushing to the mansion.

He laughed out, ending it with a scoff, “I have no reason to be,” he said, voice calm, “she’s mine anyways,” he shrugged, determination clear in his eyes.

“Wow, you’re not even scared to admit it out loud? What if Jake hears?” She asks and Heeseung’s expression sours.

“He wouldn’t approve. That’s a given but that’s not enough to stop me,” he shrugged yet again.

“Okay Mr. Someone is stealing your girl as we speak though,” Karina pointed out, a fake sympathetic scowl on her face.

Heeseung hated feeling this way, the feeling where things do not go his way. He hadn’t felt this way since—forever. He had everything he wanted, but not you. Jake being a hindrance is something he considered to be normal till some extent, but Jay? That’s unacceptable.

“I’ll take care of it.”

It was one in the morning and you were wrapped up in a blanket, sitting down near the balcony to observe the spectrum of stars which you could have sworn were shining.

Being thrown into the water wasn’t the best experience per se, but you knew it would soon turn into a funny memory you guys would look back at someday in the future. Yet, it wasn’t something you were thinking about much, granted you had better things to ponder about.

Lee Heeseung.

You well expected him to show at least a sliver of reaction, some sort of outburst during the evening, however it never came. Either he was plotting revenge or he simply didn’t care enough. Or he was trying to keep it in, your mind tried to reason with you.

You sighed, getting up and closing the sliding doors of the big balcony in hopes of getting a cozy sleep. You needed that warmth after all. Just as you dropped the blanket on the bed, the door swung open—which shouldn’t have happened, given that you were sure you had locked it.

Heeseung entered the room, closing the door behind him and you couldn’t help but stand at your place, shocked at his sudden appearance, “how did you—”

“It’s my place, I can get in and out anytime I want,” he replied, voice smooth, giving you goosebumps as he walked closer to you.

He was clad in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, the attire was simple, yet he made it look a hundred times more attractive than the usual.

“Oh,” you breathed out, the dim lights of the room caused his skin to glow a beautiful shade of golden.

There wasn’t a single ounce of jealousy on his face, rather, he looked content with the setting, settling down and sitting on the corner of the bed, his dark eyes staring at you, the silence louder than ever.

“Uhm, so—did you want something?” You asked, wincing at your tone as you suddenly felt conscious under his gaze, slightly aroused too, not knowing what he was actually here for.

He clicked his tongue, looking away for a second before his eyes settled on you for the second time.

Heeseung gave you no time to process anything as his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him in a single hard tug, which had your body stumbling forward and right on his lap.

He held on to your waist, helping you stabilize your balance, “what’s wrong, princess? You were so confident, getting cozy with Jay, huh?” He raise his brow, letting the possessiveness show on his face, the I don’t give a fuck facade disappearing.

Your breath hitched with the movement of his fingers on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the part where your top had ridden up to expose your skin.

“He was just being nice,” you breathed out, shivering slightly.

He rolled his eyes at your statement, a scoff leaving his lips before he leaned in, earning a gasp out of you. His nose caressed yours, and you were scared to move, his lips hovering above yours.

“Just being nice my ass,” he clicked his tongue yet again, and suddenly you were hyper aware about the fact that you were breathing in the same air, “you wanted to know my intentions, right, princess?” He asked, “then listen, I want you all to myself,” his tone was raspy, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support, “don’t think I didn’t notice your subtle glances towards me, especially when you were with Jay,” he chuckled and you gulped, looking elsewhere.

He was quick to grab your chin, making you look right in his eyes, “trying to get me jealous, darling? Well, good for you, it fucking worked.”

“Hee—” you whimper, your body heating up as you realized you were sitting right on his crotch.

“Shh, bad girls don’t get to talk,” he shook his head, disappointed, “now what do we do about this? Maybe I’ll just have to claim your body to make you understand that you don’t need to make me jealous to have all my attention,” he suggested.

You could feel the wetness down in your lacy panties and he hadn’t even touched you. Something about the way his voice came out so luscious, something about the way his touch made you feel like putty, something about his eyes made you feel mesmerized.

“Tell me, baby. Can I mark you mine?” He asked and you felt your heart flutter, his voice was gentle when he asked for your consent, and you couldn’t hold back from wanting him anymore, nodding gently, “use your words, love,” he urged, lips parted.

“Yes,” you whispered, grabbing on to him as he bit your lip, eliciting another gasp out of you, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Yeah? You sure you can handle it?” He asked and you tugged on to his collar, impatiently pulling you to him.

“Let’s find out,” you mumbled.

Without any more delay, you closed the distance between you both, his hand coming to rest on your nape, tilting your head to kiss you passionately, his tongue brushing over your lips, parting them with ease for your tongue to graze the tip of his own.

The room felt misty as you continued to kiss, his kisses getting more possessive by second, thinking about how no one else should have you, that you belong to him. He picked you up with ease, putting you underneath him on the bed, his kisses trailing down as you took a deep breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled midway kisses, some were long, especially the ones around your clavicle and neck region while the others were feather soft, driving you insane to the point of no return. It only ascended when his fingers finally lifted up your top, exploring the expanse of your skin with teasing touches.

Your back arched as soon as he caresses the skin under your tits, before cupping them fully, leaning back to get rid of your top altogether. You couldn’t shy under his gaze, the way he looked at you only boosted your confidence, as if he was a predator hungry for a meal and you were his precious prey, all ready to be devoured.

He had no time to waste, his mouth working fast to lean down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, noticing how you react to his each touch, fondling your other tit, hearing you whimper and beg for more, his name chanting on your lips out of sheer pleasure.

“It’s so fucking cute how your body reacts to every little touch of mine,” he whispered, biting your earlobe in the process, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stuffed his pretty fingers inside your shorts, chuckling when he realizes how soiled your lacy panties had gotten, “fuck, I wanna taste that pretty cunt,” he says, taking off his T-shirt before doing the same to your shorts, dragging your panties down alongside it.

You found yourself drooling at the sight of Heeseung’s muscles, he had started going to the gym and the results were clearly visible on his body, but you were ripped out of your thought train when he bit your inner thigh, causing you to clench around nothing, giving you kisses and licks all over, but not touching the part where you needed him the most.

“P—please,” you cried out of frustration, and he immersed himself, licking a big stripe of your wet cunt, genuinely loving the taste as he hummed with satisfaction, holding your thighs open with his strong arms, “oh god,” you moaned out, causing him to smirk against your wetness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit.

It felt like heaven when you were being destroyed by the demon himself.

Heeseung was hard, his thick cock barely containing itself from splitting your pussy into two, but he wanted to see you fall apart on his tongue first, “your cunt,” he said, licking it to make a point, “belongs to me,” he whispered and you nodded.

“It’s yours—all yours.”

“That’s my good fucking girl, you’re all mine,” he said, his tongue prodding at your entrance, fucking your pussy, which gave you more pleasure than you had ever felt through your life.

It didn’t take long for you to feel your lower abdomen tightening, your fingers tugging on his silky black roots as he ate you out like a madman, as if he was drunk in the essence of your pussy. With a cry, you found yourself falling apart all over his tongue and he lapped it up, coming to kiss you right after, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. He knew you’d be overstimulated, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for when he finally pulled out his cock. You knew he’d be thick, but you underestimated him still, knowing well his cock wouldn’t fit in your cunt.

“Gonna claim you mine,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours as he positioned himself on your entrance, “fuck, you’re all mine,” he said, kissing you deeply to absorb all yours moans as he pushed himself inside you.

Your wetness helped him, yet he had to thrust in a few times to bottom out and could feel yourself clenching around him uncontrollably, loving the stretch and also the fact that he was twitching inside of you.

His fingers grabbed your hips in a tight hold as he started pistoning into you at a pace which you hadn’t expected, and you were sure you looked crazy with how your eyes were teary, your hair a mess and your lips swollen, courtesy of the boy who groaned and slapped your cunt, fucking you deeper.

“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised and you let out broken sentences which he couldn’t comprehend, you were too gone, pushed into your subspace to the point you simply let Heeseung do all the work, moaning and whimpering for him, trying to keep your noises at bay in case anyone wakes up.

Just when you both were about to read your high, he stopped fucking you, making you whimper out in distress, only to have you flipped with your ass up and head down on the pillow.

It didn’t take him a second before he was entering your cunt again, fucking you from behind in hopes of giving you the brutal backshots you deserved, to fuck you in a way that you’ll be ruined forever, not even wanting to go back to another guy for their cock.

This also gave him the perfect opportunity to spank your ass, the hurt only making you clench around him harder.

“Fuck—I’m so—so close,” you sobbed, voice coming out muffled and Heeseung circled your clit to stimulate you further.

“Go on, baby. Give me everything,” he urged and you both finally let go, groaning and whining as he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with your juices.

It felt as if the universe had blessed you with the highest amount of unadulterated pleasure one could have, and your eyes closed shut as Heeseung lay down next to you, breathing in and out just as quick as you to regain his strength to breathe properly.

“Y/n,” he whispered, more gently this time, pulling you into a sweet kiss as you smiled into it, finding it amusing that he was the same guy who brutally fucked you not even a few minutes back, “you really are mine, yeah?” He said, caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” You asked in a whisper and he nodded earnestly, getting a washcloth and helping you into the bathroom, feeling proud when you couldn’t stand up properly.

He was sweet. Sweeter than you had ever expected him to be and that’s why you found yourself kissing him again, and again as you both washed up in the shower, turning it to the point you both couldn’t help but giggle, his forehead resting against yours.

“I really do like you, baby,” he whispered.

“I really like you too, Heeseung,” you replied, feeling happier than you had ever felt, spending a while in his embrace, talking and kissing and eventually, falling asleep in his arms as you both smiled faintly, even in your deep slumber.

Hurt.

That’s what your body felt the second you blinked open your eyes. Images from last night revisiting you as a montage, a small smile lingered on your face, discarding the fact that you were disappointed, not having Heeseung by your side when you woke up, but then again, it was still better than getting caught by Jake.

With the support of the bedside tables, you managed to stand up on your wobbly feet, stablizing yourself before going into the bathroom to freshen up, you needed that long bath to soothe down your muscles.

Now wrapped up in your bath robe, you passed by the door, only to hear the sound of someone arguing. Curiosity got the best of you as you walked back, twisting the knob to open it just the right amount for it to not be noticeable, gladly the door opened seamlessly.

“Stop playing with her feelings,” Jay whisper-yelled, and your heartbeat rose when you saw how it was directed towards Heeseung.

“Who the fuck even said I’m playing with her?” Heeseung asked, his voice full of exasperation and anger.

Jay scoffed, you hadn’t seen that expression on his face, ever. “So you’re just gonna go around fucking her right after Jake told you, specifically might I add, to stay away from her. What are you trying to do here? Take revenge by proving a point?”

Your heart dropped hearing that sentence. Sneaking around made sense because Jake would, without any doubts, be against this setting, but what revenge was Jay talking about? When did Jake ask Heeseung to stay away from her, specifically at that?

“That’s none of your business,” Heeseung replied, teeth gritted, “besides, weren’t you the one begging for her attention by putting up your good boy act? We aren’t that different, Jay,” he mocked, “you only want her cause she’s Jake’s sister.”

Your lip wobbled at his confession, he hadn’t agreed to Jay’s claims yet he hadn’t denied it either and suddenly you didn’t feel comfortable, all the positive energy drained as you rushed to get dressed, to get out.

You trusted Heeseung too easily, and you knew you’d have to confront him about this, but you didn’t feel like doing it now. You wanted to go back home, alone, to deal with your inconvenience which would bother you for a while now.

So you did what you had to do: run away from your problems.

You texted Jake that you’d be taking his car, also mentioning it to Karina that you’ll be going back home, as you rushed to get dressed up and sneak out of the place without Heeseung knowing, and you were successful in doing so, sighing as soon as you started driving back.

Heeseung thought you were sleeping in, and he couldn’t enter your room with everyone being awake and roaming around, especially when Jay knew what you two had done last night.

The reminder only made him smile, as cliche as it sounds, he had never felt this way with other girls, your little confession only made his heart beat faster. You liked him back, and that’s all that mattered.

“Yo, why did Y/n leave? She’s not picking up the calls either?” Heeseung heard Jake ask Karina, who knew exactly what was up.

“She’s got some work to take care of, you don’t have to worry about it,” Karina patted his shoulder before making her way out to the beach to call you again. She knows you want space, but she also knows you like it when she checks up on you.

Now, that was news to Heeseung, his eyes widening as he rushed to open the door to your room, only to find you weren’t actually there.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, getting his phone out and calling you, only for it to get declined, “no, fuck,” he groaned, thinking about if he upset you in any way, yet he couldn’t understand why you’d leave, especially when you were so happy when you went to sleep.

Or maybe she heard you talking to Jay, his subconscious spoke up, making him lose his mind and punch the wall next to him, running down the stairs to follow Karina, calling out her name which caused her to pause and remove her sunglasses.

“Where is Y/n?” He asked, breathing heavily.

“Are you playing with her feelings?” She asked instead of replying to his question, “cause if that’s the case then I don’t care if we’re staying at your mansion, I’ll have to kick and break your baby making machine.” Her smile was threatening.

“Oh god, that’s not it!” Heeseung was frustrated, “I’ve liked her since we were kids, I'm not joking around,” he said earnestly, “is she upset, why did she leave?”

Karina watched the boy with amusement in her eyes, “you’re so dumb actually. If you like her enough then why aren’t you running after her right now? Get in your car and get your girl, shoo,” she dismissed him and Heeseung didn’t wait to chat about how she shouldn’t shoo him away, rather, he ran to grab his car keys, not paying attention to Jungwon who asked why he was in such a hurry.

Heeseung didn’t want any miscommunications whatsoever, it had been an hour since you had left, and it’ll probably be impossible to cover that distance in a short while so he decided to drive faster and get to your place.

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he muttered to himself, trying to call you again.

You weren’t dating. It had barely been a week since you came back, a few days since he had started to get to know this new side of you and he didn’t want it to stop, not when he’s genuinely liked you for so long, minus his fuckboy ways of course.

Jake had tried to call him a few times too, sensing that something was up, yet Heeseung didn’t pick up those calls, focusing on driving till he finally reached your place, relieved to see Jake’s car parked there.

He knew there was an extra key under the third potted plant on the entrance, and that’s exactly what he took and opened the door. The living room was empty, which caused him to rush up the stairs to find you in your room, his chest heaving up and down.

The sudden voice startled you, your mouth going dry at the sight of Heeseung.

You couldn’t avoid him after all.

“Heeseung, is everything okay? What are you doing here—why are you here?” You asked, pretending to be okay.

“Did you hear us in the morning?” He asked, eyes softer than you had ever seen.

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped, gulping down your emotions before staring at your feet, “I did,” you whispered, “but it’s fine, Heeseung. The sex was great—”

You didn’t look up while rambling, and it was cut short when Heeseung pulled you into his embrace, warmth spreading all over your body with how he held you close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so broken seeing someone’s face, and he couldn’t handle that it was because of him that you felt this hurt.

“That’s not true,” he whispered, holding you tighter, you could feel tears forming in your eyes.

“N—no one’s ever approached me because of Jake,” your voice came out muffled, and Heeseung leaned back slightly just to look at your face, his thumb wiping the stray tear that cascaded down your cheek, “i felt like no one wanted to befriend me for me, all girls wanted to get to him through me and all the boys were so scared,” you laughed pathetically, knowing that your story wasn’t even sob worthy, “but you were the only one who still talked to me, even if it was just greeting me, asking me about my day,” you let out your breath.

“Baby,” Heeseung cupped your cheeks.

“You were the only exception, Heeseung. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve always liked you so much. So tell me, was it all a joke?” You asked, eyes serious.

“It wasn’t,” he shook his head, gulping down before explaining it to you, “it happened at the party when I offered to drop you home but Jake was against it, thinking that I would use you to only fuck you, but that was not my intention I swear,” he says with a frown.

“So that’s what you did,” your voice barely came out, it sounded broken.

“God—no. No. I could never do that to you,” he felt helpless, trying to word his sentence properly, “I’ve liked you since we were kids, and I was heartbroken when you switched schools and cities. But I just got so excited when Jake told us that you were back—I wanted to see you, talk to you, but Jake only gave me a reminder that I couldn’t have you.”

You listened to him, your heart undoubtedly fluttering with how earnest his eyes looked, how the distress of being denied of you flashed clearly on his face.

You really wanted to kiss him.

“And when he gave all those permissions to Jay, I couldn’t help it. I did not have revenge in my mind Y/n. I like you too much to hurt you, and I know we’re not even dating right now, but I don’t want anyone to ruin it for us even before our story starts and I swear to god I’ll fight Jake if it means that I can have you,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed as he had confessed to someone for the very first time.

You broke into a smile despite the tears in your eyes, “you promise?” You held up your pinky finger.

He laced his pinky finger with yours, tugging it so you stumble slightly, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you into a deep kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a possessive hold, promising that he’ll take care of you.

“Good, cause I was going to be really upset if you didn’t,” you mumbled against his lips.

He chuckled before saying, “don’t ever run away from me, yeah?”

You nodded, hugging him back tighter as you felt your anxiety calming down, your smile widening as he kissed your forehead, easing out your worries and you were sure you wanted to give it a try—you wanted to give you both a try.

Yet another problem lingered in your mind.

“So, about Jake,” you winced, knowing it’ll be disastrous.

“Shh, we’ll think about him later,” he mumbled, but the peacefulness wasn’t here to stay for long as a loud voice boomed up, indicating that Jay had snitched.

“Lee fucking Heeseung , I told you to stay away from my sister!” Jake shouted, your eyes widening as you both looked at each other.

“Fuck, hide!”

Despite the chaos of hiding in your closet, you knew that Heeseung would always be your exception.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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#fic : the only exception #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #kpop smut #enhypen #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #enha smut #enhypen hard thoughts

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year ago

Text

Come Find Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I am back back back again! I have missed writing so much, I just don't have nearly the amount of time that I used to. But I'm in my last semester of school! So hopefully I'll be back on a consistent fanfic grind once I'm done :) PS: If you know what the title is referencing, you get a big hug from me.

Word Count: 13,439

Warnings: blood, talk of violence, reader injury

Bucky checked his texts every few minutes. Initially, he lied to himself about the reason behind it. He told himself he must’ve opened his conversation with you accidentally, or that he mistook an email notification for a text from you. Simple, innocent mistakes.

Either way, he always ended up staring at your side of the conversation, hoping for a gray ellipsis to appear.

But after a while, he could no longer deny the truth- and why would he want to? You were coming home.

You hadn’t been gone long, and your mission was projected to be a cake walk. But he couldn’t help it; he missed you. He missed you when you went on missions, when you visited your parents out of state, when you slept in your room down the hall. Missing you was part of him now, woven into the fabric of his being. It matched the material of his soul perfectly, like he was always meant to feel this way.

He fired off a quick “let me know when you land” message and waited, hoping you’d write back soon.

Usually, you texted him when you were headed back to the compound. It gave him a countdown to your return and something to look forward to. It also signaled to him that you were, in fact, coming home alive. Even if a bit banged up, you were well enough to shoot him a message. And that always eased his worries.

Today, however, was different. No text, no call.

It struck him as bizarre and sounded Bucky’s internal alarms. But he silenced them as best he could. He wasn’t going to let himself get worked up, not when you had a perfectly good reason for not messaging him.

This was your first time leading a mission with a new recruit under your wing. Bucky knew you devoted your full attention to your trainee, giving him absolutely everything you had. You took this position- as well as your pupil’s safety and success- very seriously. He knew you were probably busy helping your recruit learn a swath of new things, and who was he to interrupt?

Bucky opened the log and saw your jet had been marked as ‘incoming’ only minutes ago. A sigh of relief left his chest and eased his muscles. Sure, he would’ve rather heard that information from you, but it didn’t matter. Your jet would be here soon; he had no reason to worry.

The moment he saw that your jet was homeward bound, he lost the ability to think about anything else. He counted the minutes, the seconds. You had to be close, right? The log wouldn’t have said ‘Incoming’ if you were still hours away.

To pass the time, he folded laundry, answered emails, reread a few chapters of The Hobbit- but he couldn’t focus. He thought of you, only you. And no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t hang around his room any longer. He couldn’t stand it. He needed to be there when the jet landed. He needed to meet you on the steps of the aircraft and wrap you in a bear hug.

And there was no real harm in waiting near the hangar, was there? ‘If anything,’ he told himself, ‘It’s actually more convenient for her if I meet her there. That way, I can carry her bag- she’s probably tired.’

Anything to rationalize his desperate need to be near you.

He knew in his heart of hearts that you didn’t need him to carry your bag or help you off the jet. But this lie was all the convincing he needed. Without hesitation, he ditched his room and set off down the hall, your impending homecoming pulling him forward.

It was in that moment he noticed just how far the elevator was from his room. The walk seemed to stretch on and on, the hallway growing longer with each step. And how had he never noticed how slowly the elevator moved? It slid downward at a glacial pace, toying with his patience. For such an expensive, state of the art building, the elevator moved like an ancient piece of turn of the century machinery. Bucky cursed Tony’s engineering.

Everything seemed to add time, multiplying his moments without you. The universe liked toying with him, teasing him. And this was just another cruel joke.

The moment the doors opened, Bucky sprang free out into the hallway. He knocked into Clint and his group of trainees and called an apology over his shoulder without stopping. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t waste time- not when you could arrive at any moment.

His field of view narrowed into tunnel vision, only allowing for visualization of the path toward the hangar. He didn’t greet his fellow team members or allow for distraction. You were his one-track mind. That is, until something stopped him.

“Shit, sorry, man,” your trainee, Jake, laughed as he bumped into Bucky. He took a step to the side and attempted to continue down the hall, but Bucky blocked his path.

“Jake?” Bucky eyed a bloody gash on Jake’s eyebrow, “when did you guys get back?”

Jake gave a casual shrug and checked his phone, “I don’t know, five minutes ago?”

“Oh, okay…” Bucky reached for his phone, but found his screen void of notifications. If you landed five minutes ago with your trainee safe and sound, why didn’t you send him a message? It was out of character for you.

“Well, where’s your partner in crime? Or crime fighting, I guess,” Bucky tried to joke, but his tone was strained. He eyed each person who came around the corner, hoping to find your face. “Did you see which way she went?”

“Nah, she’s not here,” Jake was scrolling through Instagram, only half paying attention.

Bucky’s disappointed sigh left his chest deflated, empty. “Oh, did she say where she was going? Or when she’d be back?”

Jake pulled his focus from his phone and stared at Bucky with confusion on his face. His brows pulled together, his mouth hung slightly ajar. But finally, he made sense of Bucky’s words. “OHHH, okay, my bad- I think there was a miscommunication just now.”

Bucky sighed again- this time, with relief.

“Yeah, no, she’s not here,” Jake continued, “because she didn’t make it back.”

Bucky’s ears started ringing.

The sharp, piercing sound blocked out voices. Footsteps on the tile. Maybe Jake was trying to speak to him, but Bucky heard only the shrill sound of shock. Seconds later, his nerves fell numb. The utter absence of sensation disconnected him from his body. He was lost in a liminal atmosphere with no stability, no purchase. His entire being was shutting down, one sense at a time.

Bucky told himself to focus, to compute what he’d heard. He did his best to make sense of Jake’s words, but to no avail. His mind simply couldn’t understand the phrase “she didn’t make it back”. The words had shed their meaning entirely and sounded foreign to Bucky as they rattled around his skull. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin, and a cold sweat created a sheen across his face. He feared he might get sick.

“I- I’m sorry,” he forced himself back into his body, back to the present. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Things got pretty hairy- this was not the easy mission they said it would be,” Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not fair, I definitely got a way harder assignment for my first mission than all the other new agents, and I think it’s-”

Bucky’s glare could’ve sliced Jake in half, “get to the point.”

“Right, um,” Jake continued, “I told her over comms that I was leaving. I gave her plenty of time to meet me at the jet, but she didn’t answer. And she never came outside.” He shrugged, “I had to leave for my own safety.”

“So, you just-” Bucky felt himself losing his grip. “You left her there? Alone?” He didn’t realize he was shouting, didn’t realize he’d drawn attention to himself- until Agent Hill showed up.

She placed a light hand on Bucky’s tense shoulder, but instantly withdrew. He was shaking, practically vibrating under her palm. “Is there a problem here, guys? I don’t want-”

“He left her behind,” was all Bucky could manage.

Maria stared at Jake in disbelief, “you did what?”

A strange mixture of rage and heartbreak seethed behind Bucky’s eyes, “You don’t just abandon your partner-”

Jake’s attitude disgusted Bucky. He was detached, irritated. He rolled his eyes like an insolent child. “Relax, man. Jesus Christ, this isn’t the army. I didn’t promise to ‘leave no man behind’ or whatever-”

Bucky had heard enough. He lifted jake by the collar of his shirt, twisting the material in his metal fist. Jake’s head sent a sickening thud resounding through the space as Bucky forced him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck?” Jake squirmed in Bucky’s grasp, “There are casualties in the field all the time, why am I being punished for-”

Bucky released Jake at once, sending him crashing to the floor.

His voice was quiet, hollow. “Casualties?” He swallowed hard, “Is she-”

Jake shrugged at he rubbed at the bruise forming on his neck. “I don’t know, I assume so. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

And just like that, Bucky was gone.

He took off down the hall, forcing himself forward as a soul-crushing panic swallowed him whole. No matter how many times he blinked, no matter how fervently he shook his head, he couldn’t rid his mind of the picture Jake painted for him. Each time he shut his eyes he saw you- alone. Your bloodied, broken body laying collapsed against a wall of a Hydra base. Your skin slick with blood. Your skin cold. Void of life.

He moved quickly, but not quick enough. He simply couldn’t outrun the familiar feeling closing in on him. His heavy, well-worn cloak of grief wound its way across his shoulders and twisted itself around his neck. He knew the suffocating sensation all too well. It weighed him down but couldn’t dampen his pace, nothing could; not when your life hung in the balance.

He was too well acquainted with loss by now, too familiar with mourning. There’d been a time when he wondered if he’d ever grieve again. He’d lost his family, his friends, himself- what else was there? What more could he possibly lose? But the moment he met you, he knew he’d one day mourn again. He just didn’t realize that time would come so soon.

A startling cold prickled at his skin, his lungs refused to inflate. How much time did you have left? How long would it take him to get to you? Were you even-

Hill’s voice yanked him out of his spiral, “Barnes, hey-” She made a grab at his shoulder, but her feeble attempt was no match for Bucky’s pace. “Where are you going?”

“To get her back.” Bucky’s tone was firm, resolute. He was going to bring you home or die trying.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hill nearly tripped over her own feet as she tried to keep up with Bucky’s long strides. “You heard what Jake said, it’s a dangerous location- more dangerous than we thought. I think it might be best to wait it out for a few days, let things calm down and then-”

Bucky turned suddenly, stopping Maria in her tracks. “I’m not just going to leave her there.”

Maria shrunk away from the fierceness in his eyes, “I know you’re upset, but she might not be-”

“I don’t care.” His gruff tone dissolved, making way for the fear he’d so desperately tried to hide. “Whether she’s alive or-” he couldn’t bring himself to voice the alternative.

Bucky knew what it was like to be assumed dead. He knew what it was like to be left in the field.

“She deserves to come home,” he said.

Maria couldn’t argue with him.

“Round up as many members of the med team as you can and have them meet me in the hangar. We’re leaving in ten minutes- sooner if we can.” Bucky turned and resumed his previous path, “I’ll be in the armory.”

Bucky grabbed as much weaponry as his duffel would carry without splitting at the seams and made his way to the hangar. He hoped to find ten, maybe fifteen members of the medical team waiting for him on the jet. He wasn’t sure of your condition, didn’t know how many breaths you had left. He wanted to give you the best possible chance at surviving the onslaught you endured.

But when he turned the corner into the hangar, he found only three scrub-clad bodies.

“Is this it?” Bucky boarded the jet and dropped his bag to the floor. He eyed the scant amount of medical support, their uncertain expressions. His hopes of bringing you home alive dwindled.

A nurse who’d stitched Bucky up more times than he could count gave him a nervous smile. “The med bay is swamped, the team could barely afford to let us come with you.”

Bucky didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want excuses or rationalizations. All he wanted was to bring you home with your heart still beating. And three medical professionals, he decided, was better than none.

The flight to your location only gave Bucky more time to worry. He obsessively checked his weaponry, hovered over the med team’s supplies. But no amount of double and triple checking could save him from the spiral. He traveled down the path of every possible “what if?”, leading him only to heartache. No matter where he searched, he couldn’t find a positive outcome. And though he didn’t want to acknowledge the odds, he knew yours were slim- impossible, even.

And as the jet grew closer to your location, Bucky steeled himself for what he knew he’d find: you, his best friend, his reason for living, his everything- dead. Cold. Lifeless. None of the horrors he faced in the past could compare; no pain could ever be greater. Bucky knew he’d hurt for the rest of his life.

The clouds parted as the jet began its descent. Slowly, a large stone building appeared out of the fog like a monster in the horror movies you loved so much. It stood in an otherwise empty clearing, its shadow looming over the dying grass. Smoke billowed from holes in the roof, the walls. Whatever happened here was catastrophic. Disastrous.

Bucky’s heart sat lodged in his throat as he imagined you trapped in there. Goosebumps rose over the surface of his skin as he stared at the looming structure. He had to get you out, even if he died trying.

Just before the jet touched down, an idea popped into Bucky’s head. It scaled the high walls he’d tried to erect to protect himself from thoughts of your demise and grabbed him by the throat. It was smart- brilliant, actually. He was shocked he could even think straight given the circumstances.

“FRIDAY,” Bucky called out, “is comm 1209 working?” He shoved his own comm in his ear and waited for a response.

“Comm 1209 is on and in range,” Friday said. “Would you like me to connect you?”

He couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A few staticky clicks and pops vibrated against Bucky’s eardrum as his comm connected to yours. But he was too scared to speak. What if you didn’t answer? What if he heard you take your dying breaths? Just the thought was enough to make him sick.

He owed it to you, though, to at least try. He’d always said he’d do anything for you, that he’d risk it all for you- and he meant it every time. If reaching out to you over comms exposed him to something horrible, something traumatic and unforgettable, at least he tried. At least he attempted to keep his promise. And after everything he’d been through, what was one more life-shattering, soul-crushing nightmare?

“H- um…” Bucky swallowed the large lump obstructing his throat. “Hello?” He waited a moment, holding his breath the entire time, and tried again. “Hello?”

He waited.

No response.

“Doll? It’s me. It’s Bucky…”

The dead silence on the other end of the line dragged on. It seemed like his words disappeared into the air, unacknowledged. Unheard. Maybe the sound of his voice was reverberating inside your ear as you lay dying. Or maybe he was talking to your corpse.

The thought made him nauseous.

“Please, sweetheart. If you’re there- if you’re able- just say one word. Say anything,” he pled. A long bout of silence followed.

He clenched and released his metal fist again and again, desperate to rid himself of the panic settling into his bones. He was stupid to think you survived, stupid to let himself be optimistic. He made it here as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t save you. He was too late.

He wanted to take one of his many weapons and turn it on himself.

But a small sound stopped him.

“Buck…”

He almost fell to his knees. At the sound of your voice, an overwhelming warmth banished the cold that infiltrated his bones. Against all odds, you were alive.

A deep sigh of relief seeped from Bucky’s lungs, “Sweetheart…”

A hurricane of emotion rattled against the storm doors inside Bucky’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘almosts’. How he almost lost you, how you almost died alone in a Hydra base. But he couldn’t allow it to swallow him- not yet. There was no time for a breakdown. He needed to move, he needed to get to you.

He shrugged off the grief that rested heavy on his shoulders and swallowed the impending sob that vibrated inside his throat. “I’m here- I’m gonna come get you. Just tell me where-”

A staunch refusal came from your end of the comm, “No- no…” You took a sharp, rattling breath, “no way.”

Bucky didn’t like the way you had to fight to get your words out. You were clearly struggling, doing everything in your power to stay on this side of consciousness. He wondered how much time you had left.

But still, there was a familiar strength to your voice. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the renewed hope of rescue; something was keeping you alive.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just tell me where you are. The jet just landed. I’m gonna get you out and-”

“I said- I said no,” you breathed. “You can’t c-come in here, it’s too dangerous… we were a-ambushed.”

Even in your condition, even when Bucky was your only hope of rescue, his safety was your first thought. You’d rather die alone than put Bucky’s life at risk; the thought made his cheeks pink and filled his chest with a fuzzy warmth. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling.

“If you don’t tell me where you are, I’ll just sweep the whole building,” Bucky said, using your worry against you. “That means more opportunities for me to run into Hydra operatives. More time inside the base- it’ll be way more dangerous.” He could practically see you rolling your eyes, “so it’s probably better if you just give me a direct route, don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he envisioned you on the other end. He was certain you were arguing with yourself, cursing his rationale.

He waited for you to come at him with a sharp retort or a sarcastic quip but heard nothing. The silence on your end of the line dragged on. And on. It lasted far too long for Bucky’s comfort. Surely, you couldn’t still be thinking about his proposition? He’d given you more than enough time to make up your mind, more than enough time to come up with a response. It was time you didn’t have.

What if you’d fallen unconscious? What if, in those quiet moments, your soul vacated this earth?

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He disembarked the jet, resolving to search every inch of the base. But just as he reached the dark, unsettling building, you spoke.

“F-fifteenth floor. Northeast… northeast quadrant,” you sighed, defeated. “There’s a- a room at the end of this hall, I think it’s maybe an office?” Again, you took a long pause. The energy required to think, to speak, was energy you didn’t have. “Just f-follow the trail of blood.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. He shuddered at the thought of your blood leaving a path down the stark white, sterile hallways of the base. But he didn’t have time to focus on anything other than getting you out; this was a rescue. He owed it to you to keep his head level. To focus on getting you out as quickly as he could.

“The power is… it’s out”, you said. “You’re gonna h-have to take-”

Bucky wanted to save you from wasting any extra energy, “The stairs. Got it.”

And while he normally didn’t mind getting a few extra steps in, he knew the time required to climb fifteen flights of stairs would push the limits of your survival.

But he pushed the ever-encroaching sense of doom to the side and put on a brave face for you. For himself. “Okay, I’m coming to get you,” he promised. “Stay awake, and don’t move.”

“As if I h-have a choice,” you laughed a breathy, hollow laugh. A long groan followed.

Your pain radiated through Bucky’s chest. He didn’t want to climb stairs or scour hallways- he just wanted to be there. To instantly materialize at your side. To bring you instantaneous comfort. He lamented the super soldier serum’s lack of teleportation abilities.

“You know what I mean, doll. Just stay awake, okay?” Bucky drew his gun and stepped inside the building. “Don’t fall asleep. Do anything you have to do- just stay awake. Can you keep talking until I get there?”

“W-what am I…” You let out a raspy exhale, “supposed to talk about?”

Bucky cleared a long hallway and found the stairwell, “Anything, just keep talking.”

Another extended silence filled the air; it nearly drove Bucky crazy. Your silences held limitless possibilities, horrifying ‘what ifs’.

“It w-wasn’t supposed to be… to be like this,” you finally said. “It wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous. This was Jake’s first mission- it wasn’t f-fair to him.” Heartache coated your every word. Even after your partner abandoned you, even after Jake forced you to suffer and bleed all alone- you still sympathized with him. Still felt sorry for him.

Bucky felt no such thing.

“I know, doll. Keep talking, okay?”

You sighed. “We s-split up for recon… that’s when they- when they came at me.” Your next few breaths were so shallow, your lungs barely inflated; the lack of oxygen left you dizzy. A thin veil of glittering spots sparkled and danced on the edges of your periphery. “It all h-happened so fast… there were so many of them. I just- I remember pain. And I hoped Jake was okay, w-wherever he was.”

Your heart was too good for this job. For people like Jake. Bucky admired your kindness, your empathy, your selfless nature. Even in the face of pain, of death- you thought about others. You often told Bucky how unfair life had been to him, lamenting his treatment at the hands of fate. Bucky found himself doing the same for you and your kind heart.

“I called out for h-him, I needed backup… I kept asking him to come help me-” A sharp cough rattled out of your throat.

Bucky cringed at the sound. It was the only sound in the building. He hadn’t heard anyone else. Hadn’t seen one Hydra operative- at least, not a live one. He came across their bodies every now and again but didn’t see a single living soul. He was sure they deserted after the explosion. Just like Jake.

The destruction, however, was everywhere. Bullet casings littered the floor. Blood stained the tile floors. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. He had to get you out of here.

“But he n-never answered. And then he told me he was leaving. He said he was- he was outside already. He gave me n-ninety seconds to meet him at the jet…” Your words were tinged with devastation, with hopelessness, with betrayal. “I tried- I did my best to make it down the stairs. But I was- I was dizzy… I was b-bleeding.” The memory stung like your fresh wounds. “I kept slipping on- on my own blood. I just c-couldn’t move fast enough. It hurt too much.”

Wrath burned inside Bucky like a raging forest fire. But his utter heartbreak doused it completely, extinguishing the rageful flames. He found himself unable to think, to breathe. It took everything in him to keep moving forward. Who could ever leave you behind like that? Who could ignore your suffering and sentence you to death without a second thought? The image of you stumbling, struggling to run for your life gutted him.

“And then- and then I heard the jet t-take off,” you sighed. “And I listened as it got farther and farther away… until it was g-gone. And I was- I was alone.”

He thought of you sitting alone in cold silence as the noise from the jet quieted. As your hope dwindled. The entire base must’ve felt like a tomb, like a massive, lonely grave meant just for you.

Bucky almost fell to his knees. Sobs throttled the inside of his chest, begging for release. Tears burned inside his lash line. Jake didn’t just leave you behind, he marooned you without care. And in his departure, he sealed your fate.

“I d-didn’t have a way to call for… for help. My phone was on the j-jet with jake.”

The sorrow that stained your words was all too familiar to Bucky. It was the same hopelessness that accompanied him every day that he was at Hydra. When he laid in the snow for hours upon hours after falling from the train. He never wished that kind of despondency, that kind of misery on anyone. And knowing that you, the person who deserved it the least, experienced it for even a moment shattered him.

“I realized I… I didn’t h-have any options,” you breathed.

A collapsed column blocked Bucky’s path as he tried to make his way from the sixth floor to the seventh. The concrete was too high, too precarious to scale. If he tried to climb it and got hurt, it would only serve to diminish your chances of survival. And he wasn’t willing to risk that. With a huff, Bucky exited the northwest stairwell in search of another route. This was a waste of time- time you didn’t have.

He painstakingly checked every hall until he finally found another stairwell. His breathing came a little easier as he rocketed his way up the stairs, growing ever closer to you.

“So, I found this- this room. It’s quiet. It’s out of the w-way. I needed somewhere to hide. S-somewhere to…” A small crack of emotion cut through your voice, “somewhere to die.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Jake got to return home safe and sound while you struggled to stay alive. It wasn’t fair that you had to seek out your own deathbed. Bucky wanted to scream, to break things, to spill every last drop of Jake’s blood. But he was a soldier, and this was a rescue mission.

“This seemed like as g-good a place as any,” you choked on a weak laugh. “Beats dying in the middle of a h-hallway, I guess.”

Bucky’s automatic response was to swear that you’d make it out. To promise that you weren’t going to die. But he bit his tongue. He couldn’t make those kinds of assurances. He’d do anything to bring you comfort but swearing that you’d return home alive seemed almost cruel.

He pushed himself to move faster. He couldn’t let you die alone, especially not in this godforsaken place. As he sprinted up the last flight of stairs and ripped open the door to the fifteenth floor, he struggled to orient himself. You were in the northeast quadrant, but where was he? He searched for anything to indicate his location- but found no signage. No directory.

Everything inside of him rattled with dread, with anxiety. Any moment now, you were going to die. You were going to take your last breath. All alone. A thick, suffocating wave of panic crashed over Bucky as he realized- you were going to die disappointed. You were going to leave this world knowing that he hadn’t gotten to you in time.

It was then that he noticed a faded arrow painted on the wall, with “NEQ” painted below it in block letters. Northeast quadrant. He was closer than he thought.

“I’m gonna be there in just a second, doll,” he said as he followed the arrows. “I think I’m right around the corner.”

This was just his way of making you feel better, you were sure of it. The hallways were long and winding. Each floor was a maze of its own. Even with your vague instructions, it could take him a while to find you. Still, Bucky’s words brought you comfort in the way that only he could.

“I know, I t-trust…” A metallic taste filled your mouth. A warm ooze trickled down your chin and dripped onto your chest. The warm, fuzzy feeling brought on by Bucky’s assurances faded. Of course, you knew you were in bad shape. But as blood leaked from your mouth, you wondered if these were your last moments.

Instantly, you searched for the words to say goodbye to Bucky. Time was slipping through your fingers, life draining from your body with each passing second. But before you drifted off into a never-ending sleep, you had to tell Bucky what he meant to you. You’d use all your strength, your last few breaths- whatever it took. He just had to know.

But how does one say goodbye to a soulmate? You didn’t have the energy or capacity to make a grandiose speech. And the blood filling your mouth impeded your ability to speak. You wanted to tell bucky everything- how he comforted you, cared for you, made your life worth living. How your life revolved around him as though he were your personal sun. But nothing quite encapsulated the things you felt for him. Every word in the English language, every sonnet fell short. And the lack of oxygen getting to your brain sabotaged your phrasing.

“Buck, I think it’s… I think it’s almost t-time,” you rasped.

But just as you opened your blood-stained mouth to proclaim every feeling you ever had for him, the door flew open. Alarm coursed through your veins at the threat. Surely, a Hydra agent had stumbled upon your hiding place and was here to finish you off. The severe blood loss was no match for your training, thought. And, on instinct, you pulled your gun on the tall, dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Woah, hey!” Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “It’s me, it’s just me.”

At the sound of his voice, your arm fell limp. Your gun clattered to the floor. Your head lolled back against the wall. It had taken everything in you to try and protect yourself one last time. And now that your energy reserves were nearly depleted, you allowed your eyes to close.

“S-sorry…” A barely-there smile pulled at your lips. “My… my bad, Buck.”

“No, don’t be sorry, doll.”

Bucky knelt in front of you, taking in your broken, bloodied body. He’d seen carnage before, witnessed more death than anyone should. But this, you- it was different. It hurt in places he didn’t know he had. But he didn’t let it show. Knowing you, you’d spend your last few moments comforting him, trying to make him feel better. And so, he forced a warm smile and tabled his breakdown for the moment.

“I’m actually impressed. I mean, you might be hurt, but you were ready to take me out just now,” he forced a chuckle. “That’s my girl.” His cool metallic hand brushed against your blood-stained cheek.

And in that moment, something within you changed. Your eyes shot open. You blinked a few times before forcing your eyes shut once again. You gave your head a few good shakes. Surely, this wasn’t real- it couldn’t be.

You opened your eyes wide once again, taking him in. “Bucky?”

With one shaking hand, you reached for him in the most pathetic attempt he’d ever seen. You were weak, dangerously so; it scared him to his core. But you were alive.

He leaned in, meeting you in the middle, and let you stroke at his stubble for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he kissed your palm. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“You’re…” you other hand reached for him, but made it only a centimeter or two before falling into your lap. Bucky opted to take it in his. “You’re here?”

He nodded, “I could never leave you behind, sweetheart.”

He may have continued speaking after that, but you didn’t quite hear him. The emotion you’d tried so hard to swallow came bursting forward, crushing your every attempt at remaining levelheaded. Your fingers smoothed over Bucky’s cheek again and again. His name fell from your lips in what resembled a prayer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and mixed with the blood crusting over your skin.

A soft, warm wave of peace rolled in, covering you like a well-loved quilt. The pain disappeared; the sorrow evaporated. All that remained was Bucky. This was the warm spring that followed a dark, bitter winter. The first rays of sun after a vicious storm. The first taste of home after a long time away. You let the familiar warmth of Bucky’s presence drown out the rest of the world until only you two remained.

“Sweetheart, did you hear me?” With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Bucky called you back to the present. “I need to look at your wound, okay?”

A sharp rush of pain nearly blinded you as you lifted your shirt, exposing the bloody mess. But even as Bucky appraised the gunshot wound that turned your abdomen into horror scene, you couldn’t find it in you to worry. Your hands lazily found his shoulder, his chest, his face; you just wanted to touch him. To know, without a doubt, that he was there. That he was real.

“Hey, we… we need to t-talk,” you whispered as Bucky did his best to quickly bandage your wound for transport. “I n-need to talk- to talk to you…”

Bucky nodded, “sure thing, doll. Absolutely. We can talk about whatever you want. But right now…” he returned your shirt to its rightful position and met your gaze. “Right now, I need to get you out to the jet, okay? We can talk later.”

He guided your arms around his neck, lifted you into his arms, and moved as fast as he could through the winding hallways. His quick gait set your nerves alight with pain. Every bump, every jostle had you gasping for breath. And though it was a necessary evil, the guilt still sat in Bucky’s stomach like a rock. His repeated ‘I’m sorrys’ were nearly constant, doubling with your every grimace and groan. But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let the time slip away; you didn’t have much left.

Between pained sounds and twisted expressions of discomfort, you said the same thing on a loop. Again and again and again, you pled with him, using energy you didn’t have.

“We need to… to t-talk.”

“I h-have to tell you.”

“Can I talk to y-you about- about something?”

And though Bucky would’ve loved nothing more than to have a long heart to heart with you as you two often did, you weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t let you waste your finite energy on a conversation with him. And so, he responded to each of your requests with an ask of his own, begging you to save your strength. He promised that the two of you could talk tomorrow, that there was plenty of time for a conversation later.

But ‘plenty of time’ almost seemed like an empty promise. And ‘tomorrow’ felt like a lie. Would you have a ‘later’? He didn’t know. But he didn’t want you wasting your oxygen, not when he feared it might be your last breath.

Boarding the jet with you alive in his arms almost felt like a win to Bucky. Almost. Sure, he’d gotten you out with your heart still beating, but your condition worsened by the second. And the grave looks the med team wore as Bucky gently rested you on the treatment table dug a deep pit in his stomach.

They sprang into action, placing IVs and delivering medications. Scissors glided through your shirt and exposed your broken body to the med team. Bucky knew they’d seen their share of gnarly injuries over the years, but he swore that they recoiled at the sight of your wounds.

With a shake of his head, Bucky refocused. He had to get you out of there- to get you home. He headed for the controls and planned to set the jet in motion. But he made it only a step toward the cockpit before a hand caught his.

“S-stay…” you whispered. “Please.”

His heart shattered. “I’m not leaving you, doll, I promise. I just have to get us in the air, okay?” With great care, he placed a kiss to your hand and set it at your side. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Bucky’s body operated on muscle memory alone as he initiated take off. His mind was occupied, completely and totally, by the sound of your weak voice begging him not to leave. The sound played on a loop inside his brain, cutting him deeper each time. You’d already been abandoned once today; he was certain you feared it would happen again.

With a deep breath and a quick reset, Bucky did what he had to do. He needed to be on his A-game for you, needed to be his very best. Only a few hours ago, you’d trusted someone with your life, and they failed you. Bucky wasn’t about to do the same. He worked carefully to chart the fastest route back to the compound, opting to forego FRIDAY’s proposed path. It kept him from your side longer than he would’ve liked, but less time in the air seemed like the best option. The sooner he could get you to the med bay, with its massive, brilliant medical staff and unlimited resources, the better.

Just as he finalized the flight plan and asked FRIDAY to notify the med bay of your impending arrival, an unsettling sound pulled his focus. It was an ominous beeping, alarming your care team of a sudden, life-threatening change.

Gloved hands moved at lightning speed; voices yelled medical jargon back and forth. And you laid there on the table. No heartbeat. No respirations. Deathly still.

Bucky stood on the periphery, too horrified to get any closer.

He thought it best, of course, to stay out the med team’s way. But knew deep down it was an excuse. He was simply too terrified to lose you. If he got closer, if he saw you struggling to stay alive, all of this would suddenly become real. And he couldn’t handle that.

“Barnes!” A nurse screamed at him, “did you hear me?”

Bucky forced himself back to the present. “No… I, um-”

“She has no pulse- get over here, we need you to do compressions!”

Bucky’s desperate need to help you, to save you, overpowered his fear. And in an instant, he was at your side. He loomed over you, his hands locked together, preparing to help resuscitate you. But once again, his fear reared its ugly head. You were already so badly injured, so weak. And he was far too strong. What if he made your condition worse? What if he-

“Come on!” The nurse yelled at him, “start compressions- now!”

He did as he was told. He pressed into your body with a measured pressure, careful not to crush your chest. But his cautious compressions didn’t cut it. The nurses instructed him to push harder. To “actually compress” your chest- and Bucky followed instructions.

But as he did so, a sickly snapping sound exploded from your body. Bucky recoiled instantly; his face contorted in horror.

“What are you doing? Keep going!”

“I can’t- I think I broke her ribs,” Bucky shouted at the doctor. “What do I do?”

“Keep going!” The nurse yelled, “It happens- just keep��going.”

Bucky broke out into a cold sweat. His stomach turned at the thought of hurting you, of causing you even more pain; you’d been through enough as it was. But he did as he was told. With each round of compressions, he swore he created new fractures. He felt every splinter, every crack as he put pressure on your chest.

He wanted to sever every last nerve-ending in his hand; anything to rid him of the sickening sensation creeping through his palm. But if doing this saved you, it was worth the nightmares.

He watched as the two nurses provided your supplemental breaths and tended to your endlessly bleeding wound. The doctor called ‘clear’ every so often, shocking you with a defibrillator in an attempt to restore your heartbeat.

Round after round of compressions, breathing, and shocks passed by without signs of improvement. You remained lifeless, unresponsive. A syringe of epinephrine delivered straight to your chest did nothing. And Bucky felt what little hope he had slipping through the cracks in your ribs. He couldn’t believe he was about to lose you; couldn’t believe he’d have to watch you die. Hot tears blurred his vision and streaked down his cheeks. His legs went numb. At any second, he knew his knees would give out, knew he’d crumble to the floor under the crushing weight of grief.

The doctor deemed the next shock your last, and Bucky almost doubled over.

“Come on, doll, just-” He swallowed a sob, “just stay. Stay. Do it for me, I’m begging you. Please?”

The doctor called one last “clear” and delivered your final shock, only to be met with the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor.

“Sinus rhythm restored,” announced the nurse to Bucky’s left. She appraised the waves on your EKG and gave a nod. “She’s stable.”

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky took a breath. He stretched his tense fingers and did his best to relax the rock-hard knots forming in his shoulders. A new crop of hope bloomed cautiously inside his chest, but he couldn’t allow it to blossom and flourish just yet. You weren’t out of the woods; there was a very real possibility that your heart might stop again. And he wasn’t sure how many times the doctor could revive you before throwing in the towel.

Less than a minute after Bucky’s cautious optimism sprouted anew, a soul crushing sight dashed it completely. A sharp gasp filled his lungs, a shudder rocked his frame. Shades of deep, dark blue bloomed under the skin of your chest. Black and purple splotches stained your sternum. Some spots were already starting to swell. He extended a hand in your direction but recoiled in an instant, fearing he’d hurt you yet again.

“Happens all the time,” one of the nurses said with a shrug. “Believe me, broken ribs are the least of her worries.”

Somehow, her words didn’t make him feel any better. He ached to hold your hand, to sweep a gentle caress across your cheek. But he didn’t dare touch you after what he did. Every glimpse of your bruised, swollen chest sent bile rushing into his throat.

The three dedicated members of the med team worked tirelessly for the rest of the flight. They did everything in their power to keep your condition steady, to maintain the life they worked so hard to save. It brought Bucky comfort to see them staying so close, ready to jump into action if need be.

Bucky, like the med team, hovered. He couldn’t bring himself to leave your side. You seemed too fragile, your condition too tenuous. He counted your every breath, took stock of every beat of your heart on the monitor. Stepping away for even a second felt wrong. He needed to be there if you crashed again, if the doctor needed extra hands. He needed to be there to help.

And if you woke up, he wanted to be the first face you saw.

But you didn’t wake. A groan here, a muscle twitch there- that was all you could spare. And though Bucky wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, he thanked the universe for keeping you unconscious. He knew tsunamis of pain rippled in the wings, waiting to overtake you the second you woke.

Bucky held his breath as the jet landed. Every jarring bump, every vibration, forced his heart into his throat. He feared that even the slightest impact would send you into cardiac arrest. He flicked his eyes from the rising and falling of your chest to the rhythmic flashing of your heart monitor and back again. Nothing changed, no alarms sounded. And when the jet finally stilled, Bucky breathed a deep sigh of relief. He just needed to get you to the med bay for treatment, and this whole nightmare would be over.

He didn’t like being optimistic. It felt like a set-up, like false hope. If he told himself you’d survive and you didn’t, the fall would be that much harder, that much more devastating.

But being realistic wasn’t any better. Telling himself that you were too far gone, that you weren’t going to make it, felt wrong. To him, it seemed like he was cursing you. Like willing your death into existence. Like begging the universe to end your life.

And so, he opted for a neutral mantra. “She’s home,” he told himself. “She’s home. She’s home. She’s home.”

The distance to the medbay felt longer than usual. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, the double doors to the triage center seemed to grow farther and farther away. Bucky followed your gurney closely, only allowing a few inches of space between the two of you. He couldn’t be separated from you again. He wouldn’t. He needed to be with you every second, watching over you.

A dark cloud of impending doom loomed over his psyche. It whispered to him, telling him that if he left your side, if he let you out of his sight, you’d die. You’d be gone forever. And it would be his fault. He knew it was nonsense, that this was just his anxiety operating on overdrive. But he couldn’t shake the fear. And risking it wasn’t an option.

“No visitors past this point,” a security guard placed an arm in front of Bucky as he tried to enter the triage unit.

Bucky tried to go around the man, watching as the medical staff carried you farther out of reach. “I’m not a visitor, I’m an agent-”

“No agents past this point, then,” the guard rolled his eyes. “Only patients and medical staff. You can have a seat over there.”

A small table sat against the wall, flanked by two chairs. It was a sad, makeshift excuse for a waiting room that operated as a device to keep people from hanging around. But bucky couldn’t be discouraged. He took a seat in one of the chairs, determined to wait there as long as he had to. He knew he’d missed a number of important phone calls by now, and probably several meetings. But he didn’t care; all that mattered was you.

Dread circled Bucky like a buzzard as he waited. It was taking too long- why was it taking so long? How much time did the medical staff need? You were stable when the jet landed, the nurse said so. Why were there no updates? All Bucky needed was a nod, a bit of information. But he remained in the dark, wondering if you died on the operating table.

Maria found Bucky slumped in a chair with a zombie-like air about him. He was expressionless, his gaze hollow. His palms traced the same track up and down his thighs in a never-ending cycle. One look and she knew: something was very wrong.

“Hey,” she called softly, hoping not to startle him.

But Bucky didn’t respond- he didn’t even react. He just sat there, his unblinking stare burning a hole in the tile. An uneasiness enveloped Maria. She’d never seen Bucky so empty, so despondent. As she stared at him, she found herself fearing the worst. ‘Maybe he just received terrible news’ she thought. ‘Maybe he’s grieving’.

“Hey,” she tried again, nudging her foot against his.

He came back to life with a start. A sharp inhale filled his chest, his eyes blinked wildly. But his palms never stopped moving in their endless cycle against his tactical pants. And he never actually looked at her.

“Hi…” he breathed.

Hill took the seat opposite him. She conjured the gentlest, warmest tone she could find, “is everything okay?”

Bucky balled his hands into tight fists and stretched them out again. Maria noticed blood- your blood- crusting under his fingernails and staining his skin. But before she could get a good look, he grabbed the arms of the chair. His palms rubbed fervently against the plastic handles for a moment until they moved to his face. He ran his hands along his jaw, his spiky stubble poking into his skin.

“Barnes, what happened? Are you-”

Finally, his head snapped in her direction, “I can still feel it…”

“Feel what?”

Bucky’s head fell into his hands. He pressed his palms against his eyes and dragged them down his face. Maria watched him fall apart in slow motion. He seemed to be unraveling, one cell at a time. And when he finally spoke, shame made his words almost unintelligible.

“She crashed on the jet…”

“Oh...” Maria did her best to keep a calm, even tone. Her concern for you vibrated in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it free- not when Bucky was moments away from a meltdown. “Is she-”

“The med team needed help. There weren’t enough of them- they needed me to do chest compressions,” Bucky said, his voice low. “And I broke- I crushed her ribs.”

A sharp shudder rocked his entire body. Just thinking of that moment, when his too-strong hands destroyed your chest, was enough to make him sick. To scar him for life. To haunt him. Of all the horrible things he’d done in over the years, this was the worst. He gave his hands a quick shake, hoping to rid his nerve endings of the sensation.

“I felt her bones snapping under my hands,” Bucky’s words dripped with shame. “And I can still… I still feel it.”

“Okay,” Maria said gently. “Well, if she-”

“She was already in such bad shape,” Bucky swiped a tear from his cheek. “And I… I hurt her. I made it so much worse.”

His head fell into his hands once again and did not reemerge.

“Hey, look at me,” Maria gave his arm a gentle touch.

Bucky only shook his head.

“Come on, Barnes, just look at me for a second.”

Again, he refused.

Maria abandoned her chair and sat instead on the small table. She never got this close to Bucky. Usually, she preferred to give him his space. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type- unless you were around. But he was lost in a shame spiral, adrift with no hope of return. And he needed rescuing. She placed her hands on his and gently removed them from his face.

“You saved her life,” Maria said. “Twice. You rescued her from the base, and when the med team needed help, you came through.”

“But I-”

“Did it work?” Maria asked, her tine almost stern. “Did the chest compressions work?”

Bucky nodded.

Maria gave him a shrug, “That’s all that matters. She can recover from a few broken ribs, but if you hadn’t been there-”

Bucky averted his gaze as his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” Maria grabbed his face, bringing his focus back to her. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead.”

Maria’s words fought hard against the demeaning voice that lived inside Bucky’s head. It screamed at him, telling him that he shouldn’t believe her, that he was a monster, that he almost killed you. Usually, Bucky allowed his inner demons to run free. He listened to them without pause, believing anything and everything they told him, no matter how vile. But Maria was steadfast and unshakable in her sentiments; she truly believed what she was saying. And by some miracle, Bucky did, too.

“Thanks…” He granted her a hollow smile and a small nod.

Hill sat in silence with him for a few hours. She didn’t try to make small talk or ask what was going on inside his head. She simply existed near him, sharing the space so that he didn’t have to be alone. She ignored important texts and sent every call to voicemail. She knew it was exactly what you’d do for him, if you were able. And she did her best to fill your shoes.

Abruptly, Bucky’s head snapped in her direction. His pulse thrummed against his skin as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. “She kept saying…” he sighed. “She kept saying we needed to talk. She wanted to talk to me about something.”

Maria cocked her head to the side, “About what?”

He shrugged. “I told her we could talk later because there would be plenty of time,” Bucky’s words grew shaky. He found himself near tears for what felt like the millionth time that day. Guilt sucker punched him. “What if… what if there isn’t more time for us? What if that was all we were ever going to get? What if-”

“You’ll get more time,” Maria said with certainty. “The universe has a way of evening things out. You were robbed of time once; it won’t happen again. Plus, you’re deserved some fucking karmic retribution- you’re owed this.”

Bucky wondered how she could be that sure of something so ethereal. But she was steady, solid as a rock. She didn’t waver in her words or add caveats at the end. She, somehow, knew it to be true. And Bucky couldn’t help but believe her.

But when Fury called her for the eighth time, she knew quiet time was over.

“I have to go, okay? Fury can’t do anything without me, he’s hopeless.” She stood from her seat and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

Bucky thanked her a million times over and, for the first time, gave Maria a hug. She would never know how much her reassurances helped him. She’d pulled him from the ledge and gave him what he desperately needed: perspective.

In the hours that followed, he let her words play on a constant loop inside his mind. “If you hadn’t been there, she’d be dead,” he heard her say. “You’ll get more time.” The sickening feeling of your bones snapping under his strength never faded, and the fear of losing you still had him in a chokehold, but Maria’s words quieted his mind.

In the sad, empty waiting room, time seemed to mutate. Some of the hours dragged, others whizzed by. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Was it ten hours? Or twenty? He didn’t really care. He’d wait lifetimes for you.

He saw the security guards change shifts once, twice. It was the only thing alerting him to the passage of time, as part of him believed it was standing still. On the third shift change, they told him to go home.

“They’ll call you if there’s an update”, said one of the guards. “It’d probably be a good idea for you to go get some sleep, or something.”

Bucky knew he looked like hell. Your blood left crimson streaks across his face and neck. And the dark circles he usually wore under his eyes were a deep shade of plum. But he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t sleep. Not when your life hung in the balance. Not when you needed him.

A few more hours passed with no news, and Bucky found himself teetering on the edge of insanity. An angry, desperate voice bellowed inside his head. It told him to bust through the doors and find you, no matter what it took- even if it meant hurting people in the process. The gun secured to his hip and the knife strapped to his ankle became eerily attractive. His hands itched to reach for the weapons, to hold someone at gun point until they allowed him to see you. But he couldn’t to give in to the fear, to the violence. It took him years of therapy and long talks with you to stop seeing himself as a monster- and he refused to destroy the progress you helped him make.

A doctor stepped out of the double doors and looked in Bucky’s direction, “Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky was on his feet before he knew what hit him. This was it. After what felt like an eternity of not knowing whether you lived or died, he was about to have an answer. Sweat dampened his palm, his brow as he stood in front of your doctor.

He didn’t know he was even capable of this kind of fear, this kind of agony. And though he was an impossibly strong physical specimen, Bucky knew he’d never be able to lift the weight of the grief that followed your loss. He knew that, if you died, he’d spend the rest of his life dragging himself from place to place, unable to stand, unable to push back against the overwhelming, oppressive force of losing you.

Your doctor spoke quickly and professionally about your condition, but the words turned to mush the second they reached Bucky’s brain. The combination of medical jargon and pure panic made their meanings imperceptible. But one phrase managed to cut through the fog of Bucky’s anxiety and exhaustion: “you can see her now.”

And just like that, Bucky took off. His fatigued body did its best to carry him through the halls, stumbling every now and then on the smooth tile of the hospital floors. But he didn’t dare slow down. He had to get to you.

By the time he reached the door to your room, he found himself shaking- almost shivering- with anxiety. He knew you were alive, of course. Knew that the doctors had been successful in saving your life. But something in him doubted their handiwork. Something in him swore that if he didn’t get to you in the next half second, you’d flatline. Again.

He could practically feel his brain rattling around inside his skull, his teeth chattered against one another. And the sharp tremors in his hands made it nearly impossible to get a grip on the door handle. Panic and frustration coursed through him as the he tried again and again to gain entry to your room with no luck. A strangled sob forced its way out of his chest and caught the attention of a nurse- one of the nurses who helped keep you alive on the jet.

“Hey…” Her eyes drifted to Bucky’s shaking hands. “Need some help?” Before Bucky could answer, she’d abandoned the medication she was prepping, discarded her gloves, and made her way to his side.

“Here, let me.” Her soft, sympathetic tone was almost too kind; Bucky’s eyes blurred with tears. She turned the door handle and gestured for Bucky to go inside.

His “thank you” was for more than just the door.

Bucky took a few steps inside and drew in a sharp breath; he’d never seen you in such severe condition. Over the many hours that Bucky waited for you outside, all of your bruises grew darker, more menacing. They stained your throat, your face, your arms. He didn’t even want to think about the ones on your chest- the ones he caused. Dried blood crusted in your hair and formed a path down the side of your face. It sat caked under your fingernails and rested in the creases of your palms. Thankfully, your gunshot wound was covered by gauze and concealed by your gown. But knowing it was there was enough to make Bucky sick. He, of course, witnessed and inflicted, his fair share of carnage over the years. But he knew your wound would haunt him for years to come- simply because it was yours.

All he wanted was to be near you. To sit at your bedside and hold your hand. But he didn’t dare to get any closer. Electrodes attached a dozen wires to your chest. IVs sat lodged in the crooks of your elbows, in the backs of your hands. Machines and monitors kept track of your vitals. And who was he to disturb this fragile, vital ecosystem? What if he accidentally pulled out one of your IVs? What if he detached a wire by mistake? He’d already hurt you once today, he wasn’t about to do it again.

He, instead, opted to stand at attention. A few feet away. For your safety. He didn’t touch you, didn’t even say your name. He simply stared at you, counting your every breath.

An hour- or maybe two- passed by with him like this. Nurses checked on you, doctors poked their heads in. And every time, they told him he was permitted to sit by your bedside. But he just shook his head. Sure, slipping his hand into yours, being close to you- it would provide him with incomprehensible comfort. But he couldn’t, not when you were so severely injured.

After the third hour, Bucky feared his sanity was slipping. A wicked voice lodged deep in his psyche suddenly awakened. It whispered to him, taunted him. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he was asleep in the waiting room. Maybe you didn’t survive. Maybe…

And he would’ve believed it, had you not snapped him out of the vicious spiral.

“Buck?” He feared he’d never hear you voice again, but there it was. Hoarse and weak- but yours.

Bucky flew to your side. He cradled your face gingerly in his hands, completely consumed by the need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were real. His palms laid flush against your cheeks, his thumbs sweeping over your skin. And in an instant, the sickly sensation of your snapping bones vanished.

A hurricane of tangled thoughts and emotions crashed over him. He had so much to he wanted to say, so much he wanted to confess to you. But the words refused to arrange themselves properly. Suddenly, Bucky wished he’d used his ample time in the waiting room to better organize his thoughts. He wished he’d sought out a pen and a scrap of paper and used them to plan and articulate his sentiment. But even if he’d found the supplies he needed, he wouldn’t have been able to jot a single thing down. Not with his shaking, unsteady hands.

Anxious words and broken sobs got stuck in his throat and formed a garbled, unintelligible mess as they left his mouth. But it was the best he could do. He stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I, um…” you looked at him for a long moment. The haze of head trauma, blood loss, and pain killers made you foggy. You did your best to trace your steps back through Bucky’s words, certain that your condition was the cause of your confusion. But after a significant pause, you came up empty. “Sorry, I- what?”

Bucky slid one of his hands into yours and gave a soft laugh. “Sorry. I tried to say-” He sat quiet for a moment. What had he tried to say, exactly? He wasn’t sure. With a small shake of his head, he re-rerouted. “Um, it doesn’t matter. Here, how’s this:” He cleared his throat and spoke with the sharpest pronunciation possible. “How are you feeling?”

Your laugh- Bucky’s favorite laugh- bubbled up to the surface. But regret swallowed you whole as pain shot through your head, your chest, your side. The hurt radiated through your entire being. It rendered you breathless, and left your face twisted in an agonized grimace.

Bucky didn’t like how long it took you to recover from the small chuckle you shot his way. A pang of worry shot through him. “Don’t exert yourself, okay?” He swept a thumb across your cheek, “you don’t wanna tear your stitches or...” He cleared his throat, “aggravate any, um, broken bones.” Bones that he broke.

“No, I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut for a long moment before opening them again. The pain slowly receded. “I’m good, I’m okay. I just- breathing is hard. I forgot how shitty it feels to have broken ribs.”

Bucky nodded. His teeth sunk into the smooth flesh of his cheek. A metallic taste coated his mouth. He didn’t want to tell you the truth. Didn’t want you to know that he was the cause of your severe pain. But you deserved to know, didn’t you? With a deep sigh, he opened his mouth, intent on telling you what really happened. But you cut him off.

“Thank you, Buck. For coming to get me. I really thought I was…” Hot tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision. “I thought that was it for me, you know? And I just want you to know how-” you sniffed, “how grateful I am.”

Bucky left your side for only a second, retrieving a box of tissues from the counter across the room. He was back in no time and swept a tissue across your cheek to catch your tears.

“I know we always say that we have each other’s backs but you… you meant it,” you said. A small smile pulled at your lips, “thank you for meaning it.”

Bucky nodded. He did his best to keep his breathing steady, to stop himself from falling apart at the seams. He knew exactly what it felt like to be left behind, to wait for your last moments- alone.

“I wasn’t gonna leave you there, doll. I couldn’t.”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah, I- I wish my partner had felt the same way…” The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. It sliced though Bucky’s chest. “I didn’t think he would ever do something like that. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

The mere thought of Jake brought a familiar rage to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He didn’t understand how anyone could be so callous, so uncaring- so indifferent to the well-being of others. The part of him that swore off unnecessary violence remained quiet as the rest of him imagined Jake’s demise. He wanted your disloyal partner to suffer. To squirm and squeal and regret that he ever left you behind. But that could wait- you were the priority.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect him to be that kind of person,” Bucky sighed, “he seemed like a stand-up guy.”

Silence filled the room as you thought over Jake’s desertion. His abandonment hurt. It stung in places you didn’t expect. You’d taken Jake under your wing and did everything in your power to be the best leader possible. All you wanted was to help him. To set him up for success.

And after working alongside Bucky for so long, you’d forgotten that disloyalty to one’s partner was even an option.

“He probably panicked,” you tried to rationalize. “And then once he realized what he’d done, maybe he…”

There was no rationalizing this.

An ugly realization slithered into your mind. “After he left, I think he probably hoped I’d just die… that way I wouldn’t be able to give my side of the story.” The weight of Jake’s actions hit you like a train. Rivulets of warm tears rolled down your cheeks, only to be swept away by Bucky’s gentle hand. With a small shake of your head, you did your best to banish the feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Wallowing would only make you more miserable. And you didn’t need emotional pain on top of the physical agony that already plagued you.

“Well, joke’s on him,” you shrugged, “cause I’m still alive.” Pain radiated through your chest, bringing a grimace to your face. “Kind of.”

Bucky didn’t understand how you could just dismiss the bad feelings. Couldn’t understand your propensity for levity. Your partner left you for dead without a second thought- and yet, you found a way to joke about it. It was something he’d always admired about you, something he wished he was capable of.

You gave a strained laugh, “I can’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face when he finds out that I didn’t die.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it. It left his mouth without his brain’s authorization.

“But you did.”

He wished to take the words back, but it was too late. They hung in the air, just out of his reach.

“I…” you struggled to grasp Bucky’s words. “I what?”

This was not the time- or the place, or the way- to tell you the truth. But he didn’t have a choice. His clumsy words made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

“You, um…” Bucky didn’t want to think about what happened, let alone say it out loud. But he owed it to you to be honest. Especially after Jake had lied to you about being a trustworthy partner. Bucky scratched at the stubble on his face, ran a hand through his hair. Anything to delay the inevitable. But he couldn’t put it off for long. “Your heart stopped- you died. On the jet.”

Only one word fell from your lips, “Oh…”

“And while I’m at it, I might as well tell you that…” Bucky took a deep inhale. He was in too deep now. And keeping this from you any longer felt like lying. “That your ribs are broken because of me.”

A quizzical look crossed your face, “what do you mean?”

“I mean… the med team was short staffed on the jet. There were only three of them. And when you crashed, it was- it was an all hands on deck situation.” He flashed back to the moment when the alarms sounded. When your EKG flatlined. A shudder ran through him. “They needed me to do chest compressions. And I- I didn’t want to hurt you, but the nurse said I wasn’t pushing hard enough to actually help you. And when I pushed harder- I broke your ribs.”

Bucky searched your face for something- anything. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. But he found nothing. Your expression was as neutral as they come. He feared that something lingered just below the surface. That once you fully processed his words, you’d erupt into a perfect storm of disgust and disappointment.

He told himself to wait silently until you made up your mind. But the outburst exploded from his lips before he could stop it. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know I’d never want to hurt you, I would never do anything to hurt you. But I… they told me I had to push harder. Or it wasn’t going to work. And I just wanted it to work, I wanted you to be okay, and-”

It took almost all of your strength to raise your hand and place a finger to Bucky’s lips. He fell silent.

“Buck, it’s okay.”

He tried to form a rebuttal, but you cut him off.

“You didn’t have to rescue me, but you did. No questions asked, no hesitation. You saved my life by getting me out of there. And you saved me again by helping the med team.” Your hand drifted from Bucky’s face and landed in his palm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your palm. His eyes fell downward. You could almost see the shame eating him alive from the inside.

“Hey,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “I can handle a few broken ribs.”

“No, I- I know you can. I just…” A sad smiled flickered across his lips. “I feel terrible. You went through a lot. And I just don’t like knowing I made it worse.”

A long silence filled the room. You’d seen this side of Bucky more times than you could count. And you knew him well enough to know what followed. He was going to feel bad- terrible, actually- about this for a while. There was no accelerating the process or absolving him of his guilt. No amount of reassurances could save him from it. He just had to sit with it. One day, the weight would diminish. But it was going to take time. And that was okay.

You gave his hand a squeeze. “I thought your voice was a hallucination, you know.”

Bucky lifted his head.

“And when you came into the room, I actually thought that was a hallucination, too.” A smile stretched across your face, “I mean, I thought I was losing my mind.”

Bucky gave a half-hearted chuckle. He didn’t want to think about you in that room by yourself. About you struggling to tell what was real.

“But then you touched me…” You raised your hand and brushed it across your cheek, mimicking him. “And that’s when I realized that you were real- that you were there.” You fell quiet for a moment, lost in the memory of Bucky’s rescue. “It was like, in that moment, I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t scared of the pain. I wasn’t scared of dying. I was just scared that…”

“What?”

“You have to promise not to laugh,” you told him with an authoritative tone. “Cause I know it’s corny, or cheesy, or whatever.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky drew an X over his heart. “I’m not gonna laugh at you.”

You stared at him with narrowed eyes, sizing up his promise. But, of course, you knew Bucky would never tease or ridicule you about something like this.

“Okay, fine, I um… I was scared that I’d never see you again. If I died, I mean.”

Bucky’s lungs emptied. He couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak. A sudden ache ripped through his heart as it splintered and shattered into a million pieces. To know that you thought of him in what you believed were your last moments somehow ripped him apart and put him back together all at once.

Your voice cracked. Tears filled your eyes. “I was afraid that we’d already run out of time. I was afraid that we weren’t going to get any more.” A few soft sobs escaped from your throat, followed by a pained groan. But you pushed passed the throbbing in your chest. “But I was so relieved. Because I got to see you one last time. It was the most intense sense of peace I’ve ever experienced.”

Bucky struggled to hold on to his composure. He felt himself crumbling, weakening under the weight of your words.

“But then I realized- I realized I’d never get to tell you. And you kept saying we could talk later, but I didn’t know if there would be a ‘later’. And when I blacked out, I was so full of…” You shook your head ever so slightly, sending a few tears dripping onto your cheeks. “I had so much regret. Because I needed you to know.”

“To know what?” Bucky leaned in close, searching your face for any inkling, any clue. “Doll, it’s ‘later’. Tell me- whatever it is. You can tell me now, it’s-”

Your lips met his in a soft kiss. In it, everything you’d ever felt for him came rushing forward. Admiration. Longing. Lust. Obsession. Adoration. Love.

A sting of pain jolted through you as your split lip brushed his, but you didn’t care. His hands found your face, your fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. It was always supposed to be this way.

When the two of you finally separated, Bucky simply stared at you. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he knew how.

“I love you, Buck. I’ve loved you- for so long.” A huff left your chest, “So. Long.”

Still, Bucky remained silent. Nerves began crawling through you like vines, twisting their way through every fiber of your being. But you owed it to yourself, and to Bucky, to tell him the truth.

“And I just… I know how you see yourself. And I know you don’t think you’re even worthy of my friendship, let alone love. But I was so anxious, cause I thought you’d never know the truth. I thought I’d die without getting to tell you. And you’d live the rest of your life thinking that you’re not worthy, that no one could ever love you. But I- I love you. I just needed you to know.”

The silence made your ears ring. Bucky’s face still wore a mask of bewilderment. And you feared you’d ruined everything.

“You don’t have to say it back, though,” you said. “I’m not gonna stop being your friend if this is an unrequited thing.”

Finally, Bucky came back to life. He rolled his eyes and let a scoff escape his lips. He leaned in close, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours. “Unrequited? I broke every SWORD rule and policy. Abducted medical staff. Stole a jet. And went on an unauthorized mission. All to get you back. I didn’t even know if you were alive, I just- I had to bring you home.”

He closed the small gap that remained between your face and his and granted you warm, gentle kiss that tasted like home. “I did all that- and you thought there was even a chance that I didn’t love you back?” Bucky gave a playful roll of his eyes, “you don’t know me at all, sweetheart.”

You returned his eye roll. "Well, you're a really great friend to me. And you always have been. So, I didn’t take a rescue as a proclamation of love,” you gave a strained chuckle. “I just thought-”

“I’ve loved you for…” Bucky thought back over the course of your friendship. The day you first met, the first time you helped him through a panic attack, the time he made you the ugliest cake in the world for your birthday. He saw his life in two parts: before he met you and after he met you. And he so preferred the after.

“I don’t even know how long,” he shrugged. It was almost automatic. His feelings for you didn’t need a slow, gradual build up. They descended upon him all at once, like the world’s most beautiful avalanche. “It’s been a long time- an embarrassing amount of time, probably,” he laughed.

“Oh, so we’re both cowards then,” you shot him a wink. “Too afraid to tell the other how we feel.”

Bucky nodded, “It seems that way…”

“But you weren’t too scared to steal a jet and run into possible gun fire?” you quipped.

“Nope. Didn’t even think about it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to find you.”

You’d never experienced a love- a commitment- like that. It sent a rush of warmth into your cheeks and somehow eased the pain plaguing your body. You knew in your heart you would’ve done the same for Bucky without a second thought. But knowing that he was so fiercely determined to bring you home felt almost unbelievable. You had the proof, though, right there in front of you. This man, who you loved, loved you too. And loved you enough to risk his life for you. It wasn’t something you’d ever ask him to do, and you knew you’d never have to. He’d do it without hesitation. Without reservation. He’d walk through fire for you if it meant bringing you home.

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messenger-of-babel · 8 months ago

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The Call

Summary: One little call to each of them. One big consequence. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 2.9K

Notes: IM LATE AGAIN. I hope you all know that I do stay up wildly late when this happens cause I want to edit before I submit, even if some of these were pre-written (its 1:30AM RAHH). ANWAYS. Batfamily, I tried to get as many as I could but I haven't collected runs for about half the family cause I am biased towards my boys, but I am trying to be as accurate as possible when I can be and that includes those dynamics! So rest assured I am doing my research and hopefully that'll reflect soon. As usual, enjoy your daily feed and I'll enjoy my nap. Warnings just for general description of violence.

Much Love~! xx

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When Dick got the call, he was in his civilian clothes.

Dick Grayson was suit shopping, needing something for an upcoming gala. He had put it off for so long, since he wore the Nightwing suit more than any other in his closet. He had let it ring out once while he got his measurements taken, but when they called back a second time, his lips dipped into a frown. Excusing himself, he clicked the answer call button, stating his name. He hears the voice of Bruce, but in the stern tone of Batman. He doesn’t think that he's ever left a store as fast as he had that day, feet thudding on the pavement and breath cold in his chest as he hurries to his car. He unlocks it and all but throws himself into the passenger seat, lines on his face hardening. Throwing it quickly into drive he pulls out and heads in the direction of the manor.

He tries to keep himself composed, his emotional training kicking in. His fingers are tense on the steering wheel, passing over the bridge at a speed a cop would most certainly pull him over for. Even though he tries to take a deep breath, there's a burning in his sternum. It builds until it creeps into his neck, making him click his tongue uncomfortably.

The sensation is a rage he hadn't felt in a while, a fire that hadn’t burnt that intensely since he was just a boy grieving his parents’ death. It had flickered when he had heard Bruce had adopted a boy called Jason after him, sputtering to life upon hearing about his death. Yet he had grown, he had risen above it and had become a shelter for his younger, extended family. He was dependable, uncrackable, and upbeat, that was Nightwing. Yet as he drives back with that painful fire in his chest, he felt nothing more than Dick Grayson, the boy stricken with fear at the idea of losing his family.

When Jason got the call, he had been on patrol.

Helm securely on his face, it kept the drizzly night rain of Gotham out of his eyes. It had been a rather quiet night, stopping a few minor robberies and assaults that were common down by Dixon Docks. He was eager to return home, wanting to swing by the manor quickly to take full advantage of the hot water system before heading back to his apartment in Old Gotham for a well-deserved rest. He had just finished interrogating some of Penguins' men, about to call the cave to let whoever was on tonight know that they finally had the location of the new drug den they had been chasing the past month. However, the communication device he had set on his bike was lit, screen full of notifications.

Calls, one after another filled the small holographic display and he pressed the button to call back, leg swinging over the side of the bike as he did so. He had only started the bike but already he screeched to a stop, making sure he heard the words properly. A curse and gruffly shouted questions were his only response and when he got the information he wanted, he cut the call and the bike roared to life. He leant forward as if that was going to help him get to his destination quicker, blood boiling underneath his skin. His chest ached with the urge to sputter out pants, desperate to start the sign of panic racing through his veins. Yet he was stronger than that, keeping his cool like a tightly wound coil, muscles tensed beneath the suit.

His mind buzzes with worry, anxiety gnawing at his ribcage like a feral rat.

Jason doesn't often allow himself to be emotional on the job, despite his tendency for rage.

But rage was different. Rage burned and warmed him up from the inside, was the force that he put behind every punch or kick. It was his kindling, and it served to guide him as well as any star. Of course, Bruce had tempered it somewhat, but he had just guided Jason into turning it into something else, not getting rid of entirely. He used rage to protect the people of the city, the outrage he felt when he saw them get treated badly. He used rage when coming to his family's defence, the sight of hands being laid on people he had come to care for sparking it too. Those were the rages he was used to using, although there was always a third.

The pit.

The rage that bubbled away in the back of his mind, hidden behind a tall wall and shoved into the deepest part of him. That was the rage that crept forth, green and poisonous in his veins and clouding his judgement in a fog of pain and despair and anger. When it would appear, he would often take a moment to himself to pack it back away, contain it once more in the bulletproof casing of his heart. Yet right now, he didn't want to put it back. It made him rev the bike harder, made him feel like he was getting there quicker. The bike kicked up water as he zig zagged through the back streets, his mental map of Gotham rerouting anytime the traffic was longer than five cars deep. He couldn't afford to lost time, to not be fast enough. Not now, not this time, and if he had to use the rage the pit cursed him with, he would.

Tim was at the manor, holed up in his room when he got the call.

It had been a long night the night before, tossing restlessly. Not that he would have told anyone, but the last fight with Bane had left him with a few more bruises than he had let on, cleverly hidden from the keen eyes of Alfred. He wanted to nurse them himself, carry his own weight. In fact, he had been sulking in his room going over the things that had been troubling him, knees pulled to his chest.

Dick was capable and dependable, and the first Robin, the biggest shoes to fill. Jason was tenacious but loved deeply, and he fought for what was right. His methods might be unconventional to the Bat sometimes, but he knew what he wanted to fight for. Steph had flown the nest to become Spoiler, Cass already had such a firm grasp of who she wanted to become now that she was Orphan. Barbara had even been able to turn her life around after being put into her wheelchair, her desire to help leading her to become Oracle when she had to hang up Batgirl. Even Damian, the true son of Bruce Wayne, was so confident, growing at a rate he knew Bruce was quietly proud of.

But then there was Tim, who stayed up on weekends trying to redesign his suit, to carve his own vigilante life, only to look on it and see the traces of his time as Robin printed clearly on it. The role of Robin had outgrown him, but there was the shred of doubt that whispered in his ear that just maybe, he hadn't outgrown it. The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his daze, and he let it go to voicemail. When it came again, he grabbed his phone with the desire to turn it off, but seeing the emergency signal had him picking up right away.

"Hello?" he called, sitting right up in bed. His eyes widened and he shelved his pity party, running out of his room.

He winds through the halls of the manor until he finds the door he's looking for. Tim's knuckles rap against the wood loudly, repeating until a disgruntled Damian comes to the door, swinging it open violently. "This better be good, Drake." he deadpans, scanning the flustered state of the older boy. Tim just turns his phone screen, showing the emergency call signal before gesturing to the direction of the grandfather clock with his head. "We've got to go." he says curtly, the young boy hot on his heels after he recovers from his shock.

Both of them head to the cave and prepare to depart immediately. Tim slips the suit over his skin like an outgrown shedding, domino mask sliding onto his face. He couldn’t recognise his own face when he caught sight of it in the glass reflection, but a mask and suit would never be enough to hide the panic that clung to him tighter than the Red Robin suit.

When Bruce got the call, he was at Wayne Enterprises.

He was making a rare appearance at the office, knowing that Lucius had something that he wanted to talk to him about. His office felt foreign and sterile, empty and unreal. The glass surfaces everywhere let him glimpse the face of Bruce Wayne, a face that he was beginning to see less and less. It felt uncanny seeing himself without the cowl, and sometimes when he was working, he could swear he saw a reflection of the bat ears in the window beside him. The night had dragged on, and he was only an hour into the meeting with Lucius when the phone in his suit pocket rang.

He and Lucius shared a sceptical look as he turned the phone screen. The call location wasn't displaying as the Batcave, the only place that could contact this phone directly outside of his children, Lucius and Alfred's personal mobile. Yet he knew Red Hood was taking the brunt of patrol tonight, and Bruce was intended to join him after the meeting. Dick was carrying out some errands downtown and everyone else had either stayed home or didn't contact him like this often. The girls preferred to call his phone as Bruce Wayne or spoke through Alfred, so who could it be?

Lucius gives a nod, silent as he sits down. Bruce's face hardens as he presses the speaker button, accepting the call.

"Who is this?" he says, lowering his voice to the gravelly timbre of Batman.

"Da...B-Batman?" comes a broken, shaky voice on the other end. Lucius's eyes widen and flick to Bruce's immediately, mouth parting. Bruce's jaw ticks, eyes widening as well when he hears your voice.

"This is the Batman. How did you get this number?" He asks, having to focus on keeping his voice low, even though the tone of Bruce threatens to creep back in.

"He-he just had it. I don't know. He just told me to speak, I-I'm not even holding the phone I can't see anything; I’m tied, my eyes are-" you begin to ramble, struggling to get through your words before you're cut off.

"Hello, Batsy." calls a voice close to the receiver, and Bruce swore that his heart fell through the floor in that moment. His fingers tighten around the phone the same way that his lungs are constricting in his chest.

"Joker."

The man on the other end cackles, if Bruce could even call him that. "Miss me?" he snickers, Bruce's mind filling with the image of a red stretched grin. "You see, this is more of a... courtesy call. You know Bruce Wayne, billionaire extraordinaire?"

Bruce's head snaps up to Lucius, who's rubbing at his face nervously.

He didn't know, did he?

"You see, I didn't make a lot of impact going after the commissioner last time, so I had to think to myself, If I wanted to really shake things up in Gotham, who else is there? Then I thought of it, who better than the playboy of the century?" he laughs, punctuated with a sharp snap of his fingers.

"Get to the point." Bruce all but growls.

"Yeah yeah, you always love to rush me, don't you?" The Joker snarks back with fake hurt, before continuing. "Regardless, I have one of his little orphan projects, thinking I might have a bit more success with this one."

He hears a thwack over the phone and a scream, making his nails dig into his palm. He steadies his breathing.

"What have you done?" he asks, low and dangerous.

Another thwack.

"Exactly what I said. But there was a rumour going around that you know Mr. Money, so I thought I'd give you a call, you know, a little gift. If you do know the richest orphan in Gotham, then I want to give you the honour of telling him I've got one of his. Better yet, I want to give you the honour of delivering their body to his doorstep. Maybe that way, you might be able to bond over losing your fake kids."

Bruce feels sick, closing his eyes to try and stop himself from making a mistake right now.

Your life was on the line. He had to play smart.

"Where are you?"

The joker tuts on the other end. "This was a courtesy call, nothing more. I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. Tata for now~"

"Joker-" he starts but then he's cut off, line going dead. Lucius doesn't say anything, his own personal phone pulled out as he calls Alfred, studying the frozen figure of Bruce. It's almost like there's dark tendrils to the shadows on his broad body, deepening the lines on his face.

Bruce doesn't remember too much, but Batman did.

Immediately he had left the room, suit en route to him and arriving within the minute. As soon as the comfort of his cowl touched his skin, Bruce was gone, and it was Batman calling everyone at the same time. It was Dick who picked up first, a couple of rings earlier than Jason before Tim joined, the sound of Damian in the background. Oracle and Spoiler joined together, while the others were still pending. He didn’t have the time to temper his voice as he relayed the situation, immediately getting as many people on recon as possible.

There were shouts and yelling and cursing before all of their lines became inactive, replaced with trackers signalling that their suits were live. When he enters the batmobile he grips the wheel tensely. The lump in his throat doesn't seem to disappear, only growing larger with each second. His mind is filled with pictures of Jason. Pictures of Barbara. The smiling photos of you.

He might never admit it, but he had your photos front and centre in his wallet (something you did in fact know and used to your advantage frequently in 'dad loves me more' battles). He remembers the first day he ever saw you, cold and scared apart from the other kids in the orphanage. He had been investigating a potential human trafficking ring operating out of the centre, but when he saw you, the fatherly pang hit him. The way your eyes stared forward dully as he greeted children as Bruce Wayne, cameras flashing around him. He had enough wealth to buy the children anything they asked for, the other kids excitedly asking for new toys or clothes or art supplies. However, when he kneeled down in front of you and asked you want you wanted, you said only a few words, 'a family'.

And god be damned if Bruce didn't have money enough for that too.

So, he took you in, hid batman from you like he had tried to with everyone else as well. Yet he failed again, but unlike his children in the past, you never asked to join. Never asked for a suit or to stay up or to train in the cave. Never showed any interest in joining your siblings or throwing yourself in front of danger for the sake of the city. When he asked you why you had simply shrugged, giving him a soft smile.

"All I've ever wanted was to be part of a family. I don't need to be a superhero to be loved."

And then you beamed at him with a smile that could have lit up his world and chased the clouds away from Gotham, so pure and genuinely content. That made Bruce feel like he had finally succeeded as a father, and for once Bruce felt like a father. No Batman, no mask and cape. He didn't train with you; he went out with you to the theatre on weekends. You didn't jump from rooftop to rooftop, you liked to come study with him in his office when he had to take care of Wayne affairs. Batman may have been created to save Gotham city, but he was convinced that you were sent to save Bruce Wayne.

Now, he felt that he had failed you as both Bruce and Batman.

"Hold on sweetheart," he whispers to himself, letting his eyes close for a brief moment during his exhale. "I'll get you home. I promise."

He pressed the accelerator further, Batmobile display signaling that everyone else was suited up and across the city waiting further instruction. He just hoped, he prayed that when he brought you back, it wouldn't be in a body bag.

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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 months ago

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Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17.0k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: okay so two things a) sorry for the wait (i thought i would get this out quicker but then my professors decided to kin reader's husband and trapped me with a multitude of exams...) and b) i am. truly shocked by how many people ended up reading/enjoying part one?? like it's crazy to me SLKJFH i hope you guys don't hate where i go with this 😭 and like ik i gave a ton of ooc warnings in the main warning section but they bear repeating LOL so. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME IF BRO IS OOC IDEK HIM LIKE THAT 😓💔

The Southern Sea was unsettled again, thrashing against the shore like a bird tangled in netting, beating itself into such a frenzy that the waves broke silver on the sand. This was atypical of the cerulean waters, and you crouched, fragments of seashells digging into your bare heels as you ran your fingers through the tide. Expecting your father to reprimand you for putting yourself in unnecessary danger, you glanced up, but his mind was clearly preoccupied, as distant as his soft gaze.

“Father,” you said, standing and taking a step back, clutching his arm to steady yourself against the wind. “The sea is strange as of late, isn’t it?”

“They say it knows more than we do,” he said, staring at the horizon, where ships gathered like thunderheads. “Perhaps this is its way of protecting us.”

“I thought the empire was friendly,” you said, narrowing your eyes at the crest painted on the coming boats. “Do we not have some understanding with them?”

“I wonder,” he said. “My darling…you know, sometimes, I wonder.”

You lay in your bed, a sheen of sweat glistening on your skin as you stared at the ceiling. The blankets covering you were suddenly overwarm, though you could not bear to cast them aside, and your eyes welled with scalding tears that threatened to spill out of their corners. Swallowing and turning over, you used the edges of your pillow to blot at them before they could fall, burrowing further and further into the confines of the tangled furs which padded your bedding.

Your vision often swam nowadays, for you were dizzy with exhaustion, but you could not bring yourself to sleep, not when your mind had taken up this new form of torment for you. As if it were not enough that you were imprisoned here in your waking hours, as well! Over and over, it would replay that same scene, everything clearer in recall than it had been when it had actually occurred, the colors brighter, the details sharper, stabbing into you with their cruel poignance.

There were some things, however, which were blurred, the image fading at the edges with time, and this was worse than the remembering, because these were the only things you wished to recall, and this thieving empire would not even let you have that. Even your memories were not safe from their pillaging and their curses, and so their crest was burned into your mind while the rest of it slipped away like river-water through reeds.

You had known as soon as you had awoken that you would not be able to fall asleep again, but that did not stop you from yet another futile attempt. Your lower lip trembled as you waited, fisting your sheets and holding them to your heart as you tried in vain to ease its panicked thumping, which kept time with the furious crash of waves on a far-off shore.

You wanted your home. You wanted to sleep. You wanted your father. You wanted the sea. You wanted to go back. You wanted to have never left in the first place. You wanted, wanted, wanted, but only that which you could never get. Your husband, who was so wealthy in so many ways, who had given you the prince of Kremnos himself, wrapped in chains and delivered at your feet, would never grant you those few wishes which you truly desired, had neither the fancy nor the ability to do so.

Taking one of the lighter blankets and swaddling it around yourself like a shroud, you slid from your bed and fumbled around in the dark for a lantern, which you lit with the embers of the kept hearth. Holding it close to yourself, for luminance and for warmth, you tiptoed through the hallways, your previous flush fading in favor of shivers, which ran up and down your spine the farther you got from your chambers.

There was some invisible force which tethered you to the prince. Certainly there must’ve been, for you could not fathom any other reason why your feet were tracing that familiar path down to the cellar, the blanket still tossed over your shoulders, your stomach wringing itself out from the weight — both of the palace above you and the prince before you.

You thought he might be asleep when you came, but he was as he typically was, as much of a statue as the one you had stood across from on your wedding day. His eyebrows knit together when he saw you, and it was such a sweet, dear expression that you were taken aback, for you had in truth believed him incapable of anything but that dark, glowering scowl which he maintained as if it were the sole representation of the few shreds of self-regard he had left to his name.

“You’re back,” he said carefully. You set the lantern down in between the two of you and, as he always did, he crept closer to its meager incandescence. You pretended not to notice, affording him the grace of ignorance to his innate instinct, and then you nodded.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything. It’s still late at night.”

“I thought as much,” he said, nodding at your empty hands. “Time is different here, but even then, I think that I know the difference between a few hours and an entire day. Has there been some development, then? Is your rotten husband finally freeing me?”

“No,” you said, and though he disguised it with a blank frown, you noticed how his face fell. “I don’t have news in any way, for better or worse. Sometimes, I think my husband is entirely determined to forget that you exist at all.”

“If I were to guess, he means to deprive me to death,” Mydeimos said dispassionately, as if he were talking about someone else, a distantly historical figure whose fate had no bearing on his own. “Should I face a proper execution, I will haunt him from beyond the grave as a banner for Kremnos to rally behind. As it is, he must be hoping that I will fade quietly from the annals of history — the last in another line of princes subsumed by his empire.”

You folded your arms over your chest, a shield against his blunt line of thought. “He is prone to it, I suppose.”

“Is he?” Mydeimos said, like you both were sharing some private joke. He spoke daringly, slyly, as if he were attempting to nudge you into honesty, and you imagined that if you were somewhere else, in a place where the sun shone and the tides eddied about your feet, you would’ve found his manner a temptation. Yet you were here, in this dark cellar, and so all you could muster was a kind of mournful heartache at the impossibility of it all.

“I am sure it is what he intends for the kingdom from whence I hail. Though neither death nor deprivation are required there; the princes are still young, and so if it comes to it, they will…” you trailed off, overcome, before you steeled yourself to continue once more, though a bitter resentment crept into your tone like poison when you did so. “Anyways, the eldest child of the kingdom is a daughter, and she is a spoiled, brattish thing who cares for little but her jewels and her dresses. She will pose no trouble to such an empire as my husband’s.”

“I see,” he said.

“Ah, but regardless,” you said. “It matters little. I shan’t allow him to kill you in such a way.”

“And your word, of course, is law,” he said, and you wondered at his constitution, which allowed him to scorn you even when he was, in a sense, nothing more than a corpse, a vessel bound for funeral and finality. Was he like this with the others, too? The many men who came to gouge at him with their glares and their abuse, did he strike them with his whip-sharp tongue? Or was it that you were the only one — the only one who deserved it, or the only one who took it with your tail tucked and your head bowed?

“Do you ever sleep?” you said, for if it was the case and you were the sole person he dared to rail against, then how could you take it from him? When it had been taken from you, how could you turn around and do the same to another? “You are always awake when I come to see you.”

He stared at you incredulously, as if you were quite mad. You waited, thinking that he must be choosing his words carefully, but when he finally did speak, it was with a breathy laugh, like he could not quite believe that he had to say it aloud.

“Do I ever sleep?” he parroted. “If I sleep, dear lady, I am certain that I will never wake again. How many men would happen upon me and not dare to slit my throat in such a state, when they can be assured that I will not be able to retaliate? Do I ever sleep, indeed!”

You wished you could tell him that it was the same for you — different, because that which spelled your end came to you only in your dreams, and so you were chased from repose as surely as he ran from it, but the same nonetheless. The bruises carved into the hollows of his cheeks and painted under his dark lash-line were identically replicated on your face, although you were better about hiding it, staining your skin with all manners of concoctions so that your husband did not question what ailed you.

“It will kill you regardless, won’t it?” you said, furrowing your brow. He shrugged, and despite the atrophy of his mind and body alike, it was a powerful gesture, all the more intimidating for its halfheartedness.

“Who will weep if it does?” he said.

“Every manner of thing in this place is meant to kill you, in fact,” you continued. “It is as you said, then: they mean for you to meet death by deprivation, to suffer until your very end. You cannot sleep, nor can you eat…but as I have brought you food, so, too, shall I bring you rest.”

“And how do you imagine you’ll do that?” he said.

“I will stay here,” you said, the strength of your conviction shocking yourself. You hadn’t known until you had said it that you would, but as it left your mouth, you became utterly sure that it was the right decision. “I will watch over you, prince of Kremnos, and should — should someone else come, then I will wake you before I flee, so that you may defend yourself.”

“Why would you do that?” he said. “What good does it do for you to protect me when my end is decided?”

He said it with curiosity, not deprecation, although there was an edge of despairing anger to it. Why? Why do you extend your hand to a doomed man? If I must die, then let me die now instead of later. If he were more honest, then perhaps he would’ve said something like that, but instead he only gazed at you levelly and waited for your response.

“If we both are to meet our deaths in this palace, then let at least one of us meet that demise with a head held high,” you said.

For a moment, it seemed like he might question you. You prepared rebuttals that you could never make but which would swish around in your mind like an impenetrable defense — a death of the body is not the only way to die, after all — but then, miraculously, he only hummed

“You think that it must be me?” he said.

“The Kremnoans are known for their pride, aren’t they? It isn’t the same for my people, who roll over and show their stomachs at the slightest incitement,” you said, taking the blanket off of your shoulders and holding it out to him. “I have made my vows already. What can I do but accept this fate? Yet it needn’t be the same for you.”

He peered at you with eyes that saw far more than they should, far more than you had allowed him or anyone else to, and then he nodded. Shortly, curtly, but he did it, taking the blanket and unfurling it like a war-banner in the meantime.

“I understand,” he said.

“Do you?” you said, for you could not tell what, exactly, it was that he understood. He did not elaborate, however, tucking himself away in the corner, draping the blanket over himself like a mantle and resting his head on his arms. Although he did not close his eyes, watching you even still, you could see them fluttering against his will, and you knew it would not be long before he succumbed, whether he wanted to or not. There was only so long he could survive without sleep for, after all — at the end of the day, he was still a man, and thus prone to humanity’s shortcomings.

“Turn around,” he said gruffly. “Watch the stairs, not me. I will not be the one to bring you harm.”

You apologized, sitting with your legs crossed and your back to him, watching the shadows cast by the lantern as they flickered and danced, waltzing about to the soundtrack of his breaths, which slowly evened into a soft rhythm of inhales and exhales as the time dragged on.

Minutes or seconds or hours passed, you could not be sure, but when your legs grew numb from inactivity, you shifted so that you were hugging your knees to your chest, muffling your face in the fabric of your nightgown.

“Are you asleep?” you whispered.

He did not respond, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you saw that his eyes were closed, his face smooth with innocence as his chest rose and fell under the thin blanket. It was as if he were another person entirely, a more forgiving person, a kinder one, the sort of gentle prince that stories were written about instead of the violent beast who killed as many men as were thrown at him.

“That’s good, then,” you said, a weight on your tongue dissipating now that you were, in effect, alone. “Huh? I didn’t realize…”

Even your vows could not police your thoughts, or, if they could, they had not yet attempted to. Your stream of consciousness was still unfettered, and now that Mydeimos was asleep, you could say what you pleased, could tell him everything you wanted without fear of reproach. It nearly brought you to tears, the mere thought of it, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I understand you more than you think,” you admitted. “You know, just as they’ve taken the sun from you, they’ve taken something precious from me as well. I speak of the sea — oh, but I never told you that, right? Nobody here knows, or at least they pretend that they don’t, but it’s true that I am from the shores of the Southern Sea, where the sky is always clear and the people are as beautiful as the tides.”

You half-expected him to startle awake and snap at you, or for your voice to suddenly die away in protest at your rebellion, but when neither of these things happened, you slumped down in relief.

“It’s often said that the Southern Sea is beyond compare, the closest to paradise that can be found on the living earth. Perhaps I’m biased in agreeing, but I really think it’s the case. I love it, I love it as much as you love the sun — and how you miss the sun, so, too, do I miss the sea. Daily anew I ask myself how it is that I am still alive when I have been so far from it for so long, but somehow I persist, though there are times…ah, but I digress. It isn’t your concern,” you said.

If he were awake, he would’ve jeered at you. How dare you, who were the empress of this entire place, speak of struggle? When he was locked away like this and you were left to your own devices, how dare you pretend as though you understood him? You were suddenly grateful that he could not hear you, or else whatever opinion he had of you would be irrevocably lowered.

“You would find it strange and inexplicable, as Kremnos is entirely inland, but for me, the sea is parent and friend and confidante alike,” you said. “You see, I was my mother’s first child, and so my birth was rife with difficulties. For two days and two nights she labored, until a wisewoman recommended she be taken to the Southern Sea.

“Of course, my father was frightened, for who would trust a wife and a babe to the treachery of the currents? But it’s an odd thing…the waters have never been calmer than they were that day, when my mother was taken to a cove where the seaweed held her hands and the monk-seals played as her midwives. You know, the whales sang when I was finally born, a clear-eyed slip of a child cradled in my father’s arms.”

The mention of your father made you pause, for you had not said that word in so long that it was all but foreign. Father. Your father, your father, you would tell the sleeping Mydeimos all about your father if you had the time and the energy for it. But where would you start, and where would you end?

“I miss the Southern Sea in the way a bride must miss her mother,” you said. “My actual mother never had much time for me, far too preoccupied with the rearing of the younger ones, and so I was left to the waters and my father, both who cared for me with great consideration, and both who I — who I miss most ardently.”

Your chest felt near to caving in, and you tightened your grip around your knees, as if by holding onto yourself, you could prevent the further spread of the burrowing sensation emanating from your heart, which would dig and dig until there was nothing left of you but blackened, gangrenous innards that rattled around in an empty carapace.

Mydeimos awoke some time later, though you only knew because he cleared his throat, prompting you to turn and find that he was crouched on the ground, folding the blanket with a neat precision, matching the corners with mathematical accuracy. You watched him in bewilderment, the exactness and nigh-domesticity all but jarring, and in turn he ignored you, fascinating himself with the work so that he could avoid your gaze.

“You stayed,” he said when he could no longer pretend like the blanket required his attention. Dropping it in your lap, he looked down at you with arms crossed, a silent and clear refusal to offer you his hand in the way of a nobleman. You did not insist, taking the blanket and scrambling to your feet on your own.

“Yes, I told you that I would,” you said. “Did you sleep well?”

“‘Well’ is a stretch,” he said. You averted your eyes, lips tugging into an involuntary frown, and he sighed. “But at least I slept. For that, I am…grateful.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” you said, in an attempt to disguise the disproportionate pleasure the simple acknowledgment brought you. “But since you found it to be of some help, I will come back tomorrow.”

“If that is what you will,” he said, albeit lacking his typical sardonic bite. “By the way, you referenced your home.”

“I did?” you said, trying to think back to what you had said before he had fallen asleep. It felt as though you had lived very many lifetimes since then, and everything jumbled together in your mind, so you only blinked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You said that the people of your home are known for their yellow-bellied cowardice,” he reminded you, and dimly you recalled saying such a thing, though you hadn’t expected him to latch onto such a random, stray line.

“That’s right,” you said. “Why do you mention it?”

“Where are you from? I haven’t heard of a place so opposite to Kremnos. It’s unfathomable, the thought of somewhere with people who do not burn for the glory of their egos and esteems. What — what is it like?” he said, attempting to sound entirely unaffected but incapable of camouflaging the sheen of curiosity glazing over his irises, childish inquisition melding with a more mature, scholarly interest.

“It is an ordinary and unremarkable place,” you said, pursing your lips and turning away from him again, your blanket over your back in the way of a shield, a barrier in between yourself and the kindly prying that you might’ve called uncharacteristic of the prince, if you were someone could claim to know anything about him and his character. “That’s all I can say.”

You lingered for a moment longer, thinking — or perhaps just hoping — that he would say something, that he would poke and poke at your dull, wounded answer, that somewhere deep in his beastly heart, he would understand what you really meant. But he only exhaled, bidding you farewell with the same inflamed terseness that he typically infused into his every word, and the moment was lost.

In the daytime, your husband’s voice had this quality of cheerfulness that, at least to you, seemed specifically designed to grate at your nerves. This was an especial cruelty, as the mornings were the worst for you, worn from the toils of the night as you were, but your husband remained blissful in his unawareness and so continued to chatter on without heed.

You sat curled into your chair, the sun bright in your vision and his voice bright in your ears and everything all so bright, bright, bright. You considered gouging your nails into your eye sockets for the slightest bit of alleviation, or maybe scratching your fingers into your ears deep enough to bleed and drown out the speech he was giving about his plans for securing the Kremnoan border.

“...they have been severely weakened without Mydeimos, of course, but naturally that doesn’t mean they are entirely defeated; stubborn bastards, those Kremnoans, never know when to quit—”

“My lord, have you decided what you will do about him?” you said, your voice dragging on the vowels as you muffled a yawn. “The prince, I mean. Mydeimos.”

The name dallied on your tongue, sweet as the fruit you chewed on, syrupy like the juice of it on your lips. Your husband raised a brow at you, and you cursed him in your mind, cursed him for being so oblivious to so many things but this familiarity, this delicacy, this one thing you had left to savor.

“How flattered he would be, to know that you are so concerned for him!” he said. “I doubt he has ever had such a beautiful woman fawning over him so devotedly. I am sure his face would be as red as those crude markings of his if he heard of it.”

“Don’t be a boor,” his cousin interjected, the quiet control of his voice a welcome reprieve from the variances in your husband’s tone. “She’s only wondering, right, lady? He is her prisoner, after all. Why should she not ask?”

“Her prisoner,” your husband said, with a particular and unprecedented emphasis on the possessive nature of the word. “Yes, he is, at that. Fear not, dear lady; as I have said before, and so I will say again, I shall execute him when the time comes, but that time is not yet. Believe me, you will be the first to be told when it comes to it.”

“Very well,” you said, for there was no merit in further discussion of the topic. You understood when to back off as well as anything, and anyways, as you had told the prince, the people of the Southern Sea weren’t the confrontational sort. You were the worst of them, once, a barbarous lionfish in a sea of picarels, but now, by virtue of your vows, you were just like the rest, as pliant as a clamped oyster buried in the sand.

“Anyways, brother,” your husband’s cousin said when there was an awkward lull in the one-sided conversation, which was really more of a monologue on your husband’s part than anything but was still uncomfortable in its absence, “I was thinking.”

“Were you, now? And was it incredibly difficult?” your husband said. His cousin, who was one of the great military minds of the empire, smiled politely, well-used to the jabs that your husband doled out with a fraternal frequency.

“On the contrary, your lady eases my mind. There is no difficulty when she is the one my thoughts tarry upon,” he said coolly, just serious enough that he was almost definitely in jest. “I thought she might find some amusement in visiting the elephants from Kremnos; they do not have those where she is from, I am sure, and seeing such rarities might be of some benefit to her health. Certainly the air will be.”

“You speak with wisdom…but I do not have the time to supervise such an excursion,” your husband said. “I have war-councils to attend, and an empire to manage besides.”

“Isn’t that what I was born for?” his cousin said. “I am your second, brother, and at your disposal entirely. If you cannot accompany her, then I will surely do it in your stead.”

Your husband’s eyes narrowed, so imperceptibly that it could easily be dismissed as a trick of the light or a defense against the sun. You ran your tongue along the back of the teeth as you waited for his response, a natural symptom of fretting that you could not help, but it came to nothing, as he only reclined back in his chair with an imperious nod.

“Who else can I rely on but you, hm? Thank you, then,” he said. “Dear lady, I hope you are not opposed.”

He phrased it as a question but meant it as a command; you were not so stupid as to think otherwise. Anyways, it might not be so horrible, so you only hummed in agreement and pretended like the berries in your mouth were the reason you did not say anything aloud.

The path to the stables where the elephants were kept was made of packed dirt, looping through the gardens in a meandering route far from the palace and any onlookers. For a while neither you nor your husband’s cousin spoke — he was lost in thought, and you busied yourself with admiring the scenery you had thus far only seen through the windows of your room. It was not the Southern Sea, could not be further from it, but there was a pastoral, picturesque charm to the blooming bushes regardless. Honeysuckle climbed over wrought-iron trellises, the slender vines curling in between the twisting leaf motifs of the metal, and the blush-white flowers perfumed the air with a melancholic sweetness.

How lovely you would’ve found it, if it did not all belong to you. If you were a visiting dignitary, a guest of the empire’s…if you walked alongside your husband’s cousin as a companion or friend instead of a sister-in-law…how lovely it might’ve all been.

The sun beat down on your back nearly to the point of discomfort, but instead of complaints, all that came to your mind was Mydeimos, who you thought might’ve luxuriated in these things that you were irked by. So you bore it in his stead, the suffering, the burning, drinking it in with zeal, imprinting the sensation into your skin instead of shrinking away from it, a punishment to yourself as much as a favor to the prince that might never again wear the crown of day upon his handsome brow.

“I remember that first letter my brother’s advisor wrote to us about you,” your husband’s cousin said, ripping you from your reverie. There was a hint of shrewdness to his voice, one that you had never heard from him before, and it made you instantly wary, though he had never given you reason to doubt him before.

“Pardon?” you said.

“It was all such a surprise,” he said, though of course it had not been anything of the sort. “To think that you were to marry him. What a solution to the problem at hand.”

“Yes,” you said, picking at the frayed skin of your cuticles absentmindedly, ripping at them until they stung. “And here I am, having done just that.”

“Indeed,” he said. “It was about time he found a wife, anyways. Heirs are not born overnight; as of right now, all he has in the way of succession is me, but of course that’s not sustainable, is it? He needed a wife to beget a son most of all; everything else you have brought us is a perquisite.”

“Yet it was those very perquisites that made it all so much easier, I am certain,” you said.

“Who would not marry for as many advantages as they can come by?” he said. “You cannot blame us for that.”

“Perhaps,” you said noncommittally before shifting so that your shoulders did not face him. “But these are old things, which have long since happened. The elephants. Tell me about them.”

He wasn’t the last person you wished to discuss your past with, but if there were a list, then he was definitely near the bottom. It was conflicting in a way, nonsensical, almost, but you were sure that even if you could talk about it, you would not, for as much as you longed to, you also could not stand the notion. There was a sort of fortitude in your isolation, in your knowledge that in this place, the Southern Sea belonged solely to you. Not your husband nor his cousin nor their armies and their advisors; you, you, you and only you. So even if you had the means to speak of it with a loose tongue and ready words, you would not — you would guard it instead, guard it and its people, keep them close to your chest, folded into your swooping collarbones where the empire could not cast its filthy gaze upon them.

“There are three,” he began, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “The cows, Dromas and Lucabos, who were used only for the transport of goods and have taken well to their new keepers.”

You had reached the elephants’ temporary stabling by this point, and he pointed at the twin elephants in turn. Their tusks were short and blunted, and their trunks waved in the air as they reached for feed from their troughs; keepers milled around their feet, but neither Dromas nor Lucabos paid them any mind. There was an enduring temperateness to the depths of their dark gazes, and even to you, who knew nothing of elephants, it was obvious that these were not creatures of war but benevolent pack-animals in the way of your homeland’s donkeys.

Separated from the cows, the third elephant stood alone, sullen and unmoving. If the keepers dared to so much as look at him, he would rumble out a feral challenge, and unlike Dromas and Lucabos, he was tethered to the ground by ropes braided around his legs and torso. Faded red paint swirled on his forehead, a universal symbol of protection which was flaking off but had not yet turned illegible, and there was a mean slant to his eyes, his ivory tusks honed into swordpoints that he brandished before him.

“Verax,” your husband’s cousin said when he noticed that your stare had not budged from the savage bull. “The war-elephant of the prince himself. After we captured Mydeimos, he fell to his knees from grief and was easily corralled, despite his inordinate strength in battle. A loyal creature, to be sure, albeit a foolish one — you’d think he’d have ceased his struggling by now, when it so clearly will come to nothing! But still he fights, though I know not what he hopes to achieve. Even if he does somehow free himself…he must know that the one he loves has gone to a place he can never reach.”

“Perhaps he seek comfort in refusal,” you said. “There is courage and heart to be found in intransigence, after all.”

“Would you know very much about that?” he said, leaning with his back to the fence surrounding Verax, who stared at you with barely-concealed hatred, the expression so utterly human it made you shiver.

“Should we stand so close to him?” you said, neatly avoiding the question by posing one of your own, batting your eyelashes in an attempt at naivete. For a second you thought he might not fall for it, that he might be possessed with a keen enough intellect to see through the farce, but if he was, then he did not display it, only waving you off dismissively.

“He may charge at us, but he will trip on his restraints before he reaches,” he said, and then he extended his hand towards Verax, waving his fingers at him teasingly. “See? They’ve taken every precaution; I wouldn’t have been permitted to bring you if they hadn’t. Nothing can happen to my beloved brother’s wife.”

“Let us go,” you said, tugging his arm with far more familiarity than was earned. He raised his eyebrows but did not reprimand you, allowing himself to be pulled along as you set course for the palace proper once more. “This is doing nothing for my health. I don’t wish to stay here any longer.”

“I know that Verax is frightening, but Dromas and Lucabos are as meek as horses,” he reassured you. “You needn’t fear when it comes to them. Don’t you wish to pet them?.”

“No,” you said. “No, I don’t. I am spent, and I think it’d be best if I retire until dinner. Thank you for accompanying me; I appreciate that you thought of me and my wellbeing, even though nothing much came of your attempts.”

“I will keep searching,” he said, a smile playing on his lips, taunting you as he had taunted Verax, waving the feigned gravitas he afforded the situation in your face as boyishly as he had waved his fingers at the elephant. “Until I may find what cures you, I will keep searching.”

“I wish you luck in your endeavors,” you said. “You will need it, I am sure. I do not think this ailment is one which will easily be alleviated.”

“Were you so feeble before you came here?” he said.

“On the contrary, I was healthy and strong,” you said as you passed Dromas and Lucabos’s enclosure again. Neither elephant took note of you, and you found they were easy to ignore, melding into the background like mountains on the horizon. They did not have the same demanding quality of presence as Verax, who commanded one’s attention as surely as his counterpart, Mydeimos, did.

“Perhaps there is some clue to be found there,” he mused. “I will earnestly reflect on it, and if I happen upon some answer, I will surely tell you.”

“Very well,” you said. “Though I—”

Before you could tell him that he would not find much if anything in his reflections, a fact which he most certainly already knew but was pretending to be ignorant to, a commotion broke out. Men’s voices layered over one another while Verax trumpeted and swung his great head about in a panic before lowering it, his ears flat against his neck as he strained against his constraints, his eyes focused on you and your husband’s cousin as he dug his feet, each the size of a chariot-wheel, into the muddy, rutted ground.

“Stay back, lady,” your husband’s cousin said, his arm barring your path forward and his brow knitting together in alarm.

“I thought you said he couldn’t do anything,” you said as the keepers swarmed about Verax, waving bullhooks and bindings at the elephant, who took no head of their warnings, his frenzied stomping causing the ground to shake and his bellows rending through the sky itself.

“Would you like to find out if that’s the case?” he said. “He’s never been so belligerent before, at least not to my knowledge. I know not what he is capable of, not in such a state, and it seems as though we are his targets at present, so we must make haste and return to the palace at once. Allow the keepers to manage him, for they have been trained in the art and are doubly qualified for it!”

Was this what Mydeimos’s enemies had seen? When he took to the battlefield, had they recognized him as a harbinger of their destruction? For Verax must’ve shaken the earth then, too, the very world itself bowing to the combined might of their arrivals, to the power which was rumored even as far as the Southern Sea.

They say he is more of a god than a man, the prince who sits upon the throne of Kremnos, people would whisper in the streets. All we can do against that strength is pray that he does not turn it towards our shores.

Verax shrieked, and you paused, a terrible thought crossing your mind, unsolicited and unwelcome yet more and more appealing as the seconds mounted. How horrible would it be? You might die quickly, at any rate. One more burst of suffering, as acute as the final glimpse of your home when it vanished over the sunset, and then you would be reunited with the tides, turned to seafoam and silt by the elephant. Whether your end came at his tusks or his tread, wouldn’t it be better this way?

“Lady?” your husband’s cousin said, and he reached for your hand, but you continued as if you were in a dream, a fog creeping over your mind as you took one step and then another towards the staggering Verax. “Lady, don’t—!”

The pulsing march of your heartbeat resounded in your ears like a wardrum, and as you grew nearer and nearer to the fearsome beast, whose tusks were already stained with crimson at their tips, a fist clamped around your stomach, squeezing and squeezing, yanking on your spine in a desperate attempt to halt your momentum. Fear, that must’ve been its name; you were no battle-hardened general, to be able to face your death without such a steadfast companion. You were only a girl, and you were afraid, but more than afraid you were weary, the kind of weary which seeped into your bones and resigned you to your fate.

“He recognizes scents!” one of the keepers shouted at you. You were aware of it in the way that a drowning man was aware of that which occurred above the surface; thickly, faintly, muddily. “He recognizes scents, lady — if he smells his majesty the emperor on you, he will — you must leave at once, or you will surely die!”

Verax stood with the sun behind him, his sides heaving as he regarded you with an imperious animosity. You stood and waited for his verdict, finding the anticipation to be more excruciating than the action itself but trusting his deliberations, trusting that whatever decision he arrived at would certainly be the right one. They were wise creatures, elephants, even the ones like him who were trained only for war.

He swung his trunk towards you like he meant to knock you down, and you did not flinch away from it, closing your eyes, wringing your hands to stop yourself from shying away, from running to the safety of your husband’s cousin and the elephant keepers. You could not let such a basic impulse impede your freedom, the freedom that you could only win through this agony, this tribulation, this death.

Yet instead of a crushing, bruising impact, he brushed it against you delicately, fondly, a featherlight kiss of a touch. You held your breath, but when nothing else happened, you cracked your eyes open, your brow pinching together as you looked at the elephant.

Verax exhaled out a rumbling whine of a breath, and then he fell to his knees, his trunk winding around you in what you could only describe as an embrace and was surely the tenderest affection you had received since coming to this bleak, cheerless empire. For a moment you did not understand it, and then, as surely as anything, it came to you, and you stroked your hand along his rough grey mouth.

“Does it cling to me even now, the spoor of that cellar, that prince?” you whispered in amazement. “No, you are not mistaken, Verax, it is him. Even now, Mydeimos lives; I swear to you that he does.”

“Lady!” your husband’s cousin said, wrenching you from Verax, his nails carving half-moons into your upper arms. “What foolishness is this? Have you a death wish? What would become of me, if something were to happen to you while you were under my care?”

“It’s irrelevant, isn’t it? I’m unharmed,” you said.

“A small miracle,” he said, clicking his tongue. “You and my brother were right. It is for the best that you remain in the palace until you are in your right mind. Do forgive me for assuming to know you better than you knew yourself.”

“What will they do to him?” you said as he guided you away, his arm hard, unyielding against your waist. The keepers had set upon Verax, who, in the reverse of his earlier demeanor, only lay there and took it, as if the faintest traces of Mydeimos which he had picked up from you had been enough to soothe him into yielding.

“To Verax?” he said. “I hardly know. You shouldn’t concern yourself with it; likely he will end up in the same way as his former master.”

“In the way of Mydeimos?” you said. “What do you mean by that?”

“Dead, of course,” he said. “What else?”

You turned for one final glance at Verax. He had nestled into himself, his cheek in the dirt and his legs tucked neatly against his enormous body. His ears fluttered weakly against the clangor of the many rebukes, but this was all the resistance he showed. The fight had left his eyes; they were now glassy and torpid, twin whelk-shells which sparkled at the corners with something that, if you were not more learned, you would call tears. But who had ever heard of an animal that cried? Still, as you left him behind, you could not shake the feeling that, whether from sorrow or jubilation, he was most assuredly weeping.

That night, you did not bother with ceremony or announcement when you returned to the cellar. You collapsed to the ground with a huff and slid the plate over to Mydeimos’s feet. Unlike the first few times you had done such a thing, he did not hesitate to sit across from you, using the silver cutlery you offered him to cut the meat into small pieces that he nibbled on with a daintiness which was almost pretty to watch.

“I saw the elephants today,” you said. He froze mid-chew before increasing his pace, swallowing it down in a gulp and canting forward, his expression feline, intrigued. It pinned you in place, staying your tongue and any retorts that might come to life by the sheer force of it.

“The elephants? Then Verax—?” he said, so hopefully that all you could do was nod.

“Yes, him. Dromas and Lucabos, too,” you said.

“Is he…alright?” he said. “Verax, I mean, though of course I worry for the others, too. But Verax is special.”

“Because he is yours?” you said. “You rode him into battle, did you not?”

He cocked his head at you, and for a long time he was silent, measuring the length and breadth of your mettle with his sweeping scrutiny. You did not move, afraid of what would happen if you failed this test, although he had proven so many times over that he had no intentions of harming you — just as you could not brave Verax without that old friend, however, so, too, could you not brave the searching, seeking Mydeimos.

“It is not customary for princes in Kremnos to ride elephants,” he said finally, evidently judging you worthy, though you knew not what you had done to deserve such a designation. He continued to eat in between sentences, every phrase constructed with a painstaking accuracy that he mulled over as he chewed. “We have cavalrymen for that. An elephant is a grand mount, but for a nation that thrives on bloodshed and conflict, such grandness is an extravagance that is frowned upon for those of us who are meant to be the ideal of that very turmoil.”

“Ah,” you said. “So it is that sort of place, then. I see.”

“Verax’s mother died as he was born,” he said. “So he was meant to be culled, for there wasn’t a soul in Castrum Kremnos, our fair capital, that had the time or the temperament for such an involved undertaking as raising him from infancy.”

“Culled!” you said, your hands flying to your mouth in surprise. “Such a small, darling creature, having just lost its mother, and they could only think to cull it?”

“They are without mercy,” he said, and unexpectedly he did not chide you for interrupting him as you thought he might’ve. In fact, he seemed to welcome it, your interest spurring him to continue instead of faltering into surliness as he often did. “Only those with the wherewithal to grasp at survival with both hands are deserving of this life, or so it is said; oh, don’t make such an expression, of course I don’t believe in the school of thought myself. Who do you think raised Verax? To my father’s eternal dismay, it was me.”

“You raised Verax?” you said, trying to envision it and finding you were unable. Was he capable of such parental warmth, this menacing, hulking figure sitting across from you? Had he handled the young calf with the hands of a warrior, coarse and unsympathetic, or had he managed to palliate them, so that they might resemble the compassion of the mother that the elephant had lost? Was that the extent of the love Verax knew, and was that why he mourned the prince so deeply, so consumingly?

“Every night for a year, I slept in his stable,” he said, his eyes faraway, a small smile hovering at his lips — not entirely there, his frown still resolute in its position, but threatening to manifest at some point in the future. “He would follow me around in the daytime, a toddling, awkward mess of limbs that attended my lessons and watched my sparring matches with a sagacity that even most men can never hope to attain in their lifetimes. We were young together, Verax and I, and when the both of us ventured forth to the battlefields beyond Kremnos, we became men together, too. He is my child and my brother alike; thus, he is my particular concern. Tell me anything. Do they treat him well? Is he agreeable in his new situation? He is difficult, I have always scolded him for it — well, he is an elephant at the end of the day, so there is only so much he can understand, but I like to think he knows what I am saying more often than he doesn’t. They aren’t riding him, are they? His back is sensitive, in truth; I would not take to it for more than a few minutes at a time even if I were a simple cavalryman, for despite his size and strength, he does not have the necessary muscular development to carry a man for much longer than that. I could not bear to train him, you see, as I always found the methods of breaking too harsh to inflict on another in good conscience.”

“He…” You bit your lower lip. Would it be better to give him the truth, or would it be worse? How could you tell him that death, too, he would meet with Verax at his side? Yet how could you lie and say that he was alright? Because that false hope also seemed like a cruelty. When he had bared himself to you in this small way, when he had drawn back just one corner of his past in exchange for nothing of your own, how could you repay him with blithe misdirection? “I think that he longs for you.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Then he is as he always is. Thank you, dear lady. I am relieved to hear it.”

This time, you had brought him a better blanket, the heaviest you owned that was not overly unwieldy as you dragged it down the stairs behind you. It was large and quilted, scenes from a hunt embroidered into it, the vibrant threads dipped in woad and madder, a pack of hounds chasing after a saffron-stained lion as he lay down and pulled the swath of dark wool over his shoulders. Tonight he did not stall or argue, only giving you a halfhearted reminder that you had sworn to be vigilant before rolling over without waiting for your response.

“You sleep so quickly,” you said. “I am almost envious, though of course for me to say I envy you in any sense is…in poor taste, as the case may be.”

He had left a little bit of food untouched, as tidily cut as what he had eaten but portioned and kept away from the rest. You didn’t want to be presumptuous, but skipping dinner every night was taking its toll, and so the pangs of your stomach insisted that he had left it for you, that he pitied or sympathized with you and so had given you this unsaid gift. You had no reason to think that he would do such a thing, of course, but eventually you could not deny yourself any longer, not when it was so tantalizing, so fetchingly plated.

“I wonder if I will ever understand you,” you said, chewing on the cold, pearly rice, rolling the white grains around on your tongue and squinting at his motionless form. “How many strange habits you have. What would the people of this empire say, if they knew that the prince of terrors was also the mother of elephants?”

You laughed under your breath for the both of you, finding refuge in the brief, catty amusement you had allowed yourself. You had no idea if Mydeimos would find it entertaining; likely he would not, considering the joke was at his expense, but you comforted yourself with the image of him sharing your humor, of one other person in this entire desolate place finding some value in straightforward repartee instead of conniving witticisms.

“But speaking of elephants…” you said, sobering immediately, all traces of levity leaving your body. Now that he was asleep, you could tell him the truth, could allow the burden of your earlier reticence to be alleviated by confessional honesty to his body, if not his waking mind. “Oh, Mydeimos, the situation is so horrible I could not stand to say it aloud to you, not when you were so — so sincere in your anxious querying, but Verax’s fate is not so dissimilar to yours.”

You pushed the plate, now empty, away from you, turning your attention to the stairs, both so that you could fulfill your promise to him and so that you did not have to acknowledge his presence when you spoke. Even his sleeping frame held a sort of judgment to it, an accusation to his silence, as if he were blaming you for everything that had yet occurred to him. You supposed he wasn’t wrong to do it, but you ran from that blame regardless, unable to take it, your back as unused to the task as Verax’s.

“They might put him down soon. They thought he was going to kill me, after all,” you said, tracing circles in the dust on the ground, coughing when it plumed into the air, blinking rapidly to clear your irises from the irritation. “I thought he was going to kill me…but, you know, I think that I wanted him to, a little bit. Or maybe a lot. I don’t know, I don’t — I don’t want to be here anymore, I never wanted to come at all, and if death is the only way I can go home, then—!”

You broke off, shame enveloping you, unable to fathom what you had just blurted out. Weren’t you self-absorbed for it? Weren’t you miserly for seeking out something that had been thrust upon him unwillingly? Something he would surely meet if it were not for you? His life, his existence, it was all tethered to yours, and yet you had tried to throw it away for your own brief deliverance.

“It was the worst season of my life, Mydeimos,” you recalled. “And, also, the last. I speak, naturally, of the one with the storms, when the empire’s ships first cast anchor in the Southern Sea.

“Once, my husband’s empire was a genuine ally of my home. We were friendly enough, or maybe a better way to describe it would be that we had an understanding with them: as long as we continued to trade with them, to bow to their whims and their prices, they would protect us from the abominable — ah, well, it was your people we feared most of all. I am sure you are not surprised by it? Maybe you are even glad that stories of your deeds precede you so far…but I should not continue to assign such reactions to you. I don’t know you any more than you know me, after all, so for all I know you find this offensive.

“Anyways. The empire was always a foreign, distant consideration, especially for me, who was always so sheltered, so guarded. I knew of them — who does not? — but they were not an immediate concern.

“My father was always suspicious of them, however. He was always suspicious of everyone, in fairness, it’s a characteristic of men like that, but against such an enormous entity, what could he do about it? For as wealthy as we are, the Southern Sea has little in the way of an army. Our men are either too young or too old or not brave enough for fighting, and that is our greatest secret, which even my husband does not know for certain but, I believe, has long since guessed at.

“You know how covetous he is. When he came to conjecture that we were so defenseless, he sank his teeth into our underbelly, unflinching as he throttled us in the coils of his strength. It was wealth he wanted, my father’s vast stores of gold and jewels that he eyed with a feasting hunger. I do not doubt that he was fully prepared to bleed us of it, and indeed as the ships grew closer and closer they sent us a messenger on a small wooden boat.

“‘Each ship contains five hundred men, all ready to die for their empire. Surrender your greatest treasure to us, and we will spare you.’ That was what we were told. My father had no choice; he would rather give up all the gold in the world than let anyone suffer for a moment longer than they needed to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted salt, so similar and yet so different from the sprays of brine that had infused the air by the beach on the day the messenger had come. You could recall even now what a sinewy, aquiline man he had been, his flat blue stare affixed on your damp features as he recited the emperor’s words in his stead. He is busy in Kremnos, the messenger had explained. A bloody crusade to defend you from that loutish prince of theirs. Yes, yes, I am speaking to you, lady — pray that that brute never lays eyes on you. Such a pretty little bird, so beautiful…he will most assuredly hunt you down and tear into you with rapturous vehemence.

“My father scrambled about, offering them as much as he could. Chalices of gold coins; jewels from my mother’s dowry; a hundred of the finest Eastern horses; spices that only grow in one place, for one week; yet all of these were refused. ‘You think the emperor will be satisfied with something so paltry?’ We were at a loss. It seemed as though nothing short of the entire kingdom would be enough to please them, and despite how generous my father is, he could not give them that.

“I was the one who understood first. At least, I accepted before the rest what it was that the empire truly sought out. The tides, the kingdom, these were all unreachable — even if they conquered us, we would never do their bidding, not in any way that lasted. Thus, they needed a more concrete claim, a child born of sand and sea. My child, which, upon its conception, will have a right to the empire and the ocean alike, uniting both under my husband’s name for good.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself in a facsimile of a hug, pretending like your father was there, clinging to you as he had on that final night. The wind had howled and he had cried and you had sat there, stoic, your expression motionless but for the faintest sheen in your eyes. You had refused to let yourself waver, knowing that if you showed any hints of hesitation, your father would never release you from his arms, and so the Southern Sea would fall to the fire and brimstone of the ceaseless empire.

“He didn’t want me to leave anymore than I wanted to go,” you said. “My poor father. He would’ve given up the world to keep me by his side, so I made the decision for us both and insisted upon it. I promised him that I would find love here, even in this loveless place, and whether he truly believed me or if it only soothed him to do so, I do not know, but regardless he eventually allowed it. So I boarded that wooden boat with that wooden messenger, and as the sea tossed about in lament, I came to the ship which would take me to my new home, to the statue I would wed the moment my feet touched the ground.”

You laughed again, but it was resentful and acrid, scalding the back of your throat in the way of vomit. Flexing your fingers and digging them into the gaps between your ribs, you waited until you could feel your pulse, feel the proof that you, too, had not turned to stone in the time since you had come here.

“Yes, a statue,” you said. “A real-and-true block of marble. That is what I wed, and that is what I swore to my father I would come to love. What he would think, if he could see me now…”

You yawned, your eyelids heavy, spots painting your vision as it blackened at the corners. Eventually your body would repay you for your weeks of insomnia, for the massive debt which you had incurred and kept increasing day by day, but pinching yourself, you sat up straighter, for if it was here that you conceded, you would never forgive yourself, and neither would Mydeimos.

“Lady.” The firm address cut through your daze, and you shifted to see Mydeimos at the end of his tether, holding the blanket out to you, his forehead creased into something a little kinder than a grimace but still expressing that same distaste. “Will you be able to survive for much longer in this way?”

You shook your head to clear it, swaying a bit from the effort you put into the gesture, taking a hold of the blanket to disguise your momentary lack of balance. He did not let go of it, watching your charily, as if you were wont to spook or collapse, and you would’ve protested, but what he did not know was that you really might’ve fallen if it weren’t for his stolid grip on it and, by extension, on you.

“I will be alright,” you said. “Do not fuss. If you can endure such conditions without becoming disconsolate, then should I not do the same?”

“I am hardened to it from years of campaigning on the battlefield,” he said. “I will not grouse until the last.”

“You are…” What was he? Estimable? Laudable? There were not words enough in this language for you to describe it, and you did not think that he would appreciate them, anyways, so you merely held him by the shoulders, your fingertips stressing to him all that you could not say aloud. “If it were you instead of the princess, perhaps things would not be so dire for my home. You would not have absconded as she did, would not have forsaken your people for wealth and wedding. If it were you…if it were you…”

“Do you have some vendetta against her?” he said. “This is not the first time you have spoken ill of her.”

“She had everything I could ever want,” you said. “Yet she threw it away at the slightest provocation, prancing off to her new husband without care for all that she was leaving behind. I hate her for it, in truth. What if she had had a stronger will, a prouder spirit? If she had been from Kremnos, as you are, then instead of capitulating immediately, might she have fought?”

His eyes widened slightly, and then, inscrutably, enigmatically, they softened, twin suns on a summer evening settling into a comfortable, radiant twilight. You were enthralled by them, by their vast, golden tranquility, and for the briefest moment, entirely unbidden and illicit though it was, the notion of taking him into your arms crossed your mind.

“There is honor in concession, too,” he said, lifting your hands from his shoulders and setting the blanket in them before turning away. “Sometimes it is more difficult to live than it is to die; is persisting regardless, then, not bravery? At any rate, it’s a lesson the Kremnoans, many of whom do not live until they are dying, could stand to learn. Perhaps that princess of yours has more tenacity than you give her credit for after all.”

You held the blanket to your chest; it was still warm, the heat of his skin lingering in the wool even now, transforming it into a cinder which flickered against the hearth of your breast, coaxing a smoldering, dormant fire back into feeble life even as you attempted to outrun the effect. You stumbled up the stairs with the poise of a drunkard, like the proximity to him was what mattered, like there was some distance you could put between yourself and Mydeimos which would cure you of this new revelation, which you had not experienced before but could nevertheless recognize to be unwanted, dangerous, despicable.

What was its name, this clawing, rending sensation that took root in your stomach and fought desperately to tear out? Was it another version of consternation, made delicious and tangible from its immediacy, its familiarity? Had you grown so used to him that your fear had matured into something else, something that you sought out for its nigh-pleasurable thrill? Or was there another explanation, an aspect that you were missing in your callowness?

“Lady, were you listening to me, or shall I repeat myself?”

You startled at the voice that yanked you from your contemplations, which even so late into the next afternoon had not come to a satisfactory conclusion. Your husband’s cousin was staring at your expectantly, wisps of steam from his teacup billowing in his serene face, and when he realized you were blinking at him, he set it down and folded his hands in his lap. Your face growing hot with shame, you placed your own across from his and nodded to indicate he could continue.

“Are you still perturbed by what happened yesterday, such that it even disturbed your sleep?” he said. “Rest assured, if you are so troubled, then I can command them to halt their efforts at domesticating the recalcitrant animal and slay it for its crimes posthaste.”

“Verax?” you said. “No, no — it was my own — it was my own mistake, it definitely was, and I would hate to see such a valuable treasure destroyed for my foolishness. Please ensure that he is kept soundly and well; an elephant is not easily obtained, especially one such as Verax, who is worth ten each of those pack-types like Lucabos and Dromas. We mustn’t let him go to waste.”

“How forward-thinking,” he said. “Is this how your family’s wealth has accumulated? Perhaps we ought to learn from you, if you have the mind for investments and returns.”

“No, my father was the one who managed those things,” you said, swallowing back a yawn. “I was not privy to it, nor did I have much interest. I think that this is just an example of what my people call common sense.”

As soon as you said it, you realized how rudely it had come across, and indeed you were surprised that you had been able to do it at all. Of course, it was easier with others who were not your husband, the easiest of all when it was Mydeimos, but he was not Mydeimos, and was the closest person to your husband besides he himself, so you were in truth taken aback that you could speak as you willed. Perhaps it was the intention, or perhaps it came down to the fact that no matter what, he was not your husband, and so as long as you kept that basic little decorum, you were free to do what you liked.

“There is also that explanation,” he allowed. “But the fate of that elephant is not what I wish to discuss with you.”

“Then?” you said.

“I am speaking to you, of course, as a family member — a relative of your husband’s, with a natural concern for the fate of his line and his empire,” he began. “You know that my brother is ever-busy with his celebrations and his councils, so the task of broaching this sensitivity falls to me.”

“You are his second, are you not? Who else would it be?” you said, raising your glass to your lips and peeking at him over the rim.

“That is exactly what we must discuss,” he said. You cocked your head at him; he cleared his throat, picking up his teacup, stirring in a lump of sugar and putting it back down without taking even a sip. Steepling his fingers, he pursed his lips at you. “He has been home for long enough that there should be news of an heir’s impending arrival by now.”

Fragments of crystal flew into the air with a crash of protest, scattering and embedding into the rich weave of the carpet below your feet, the stain of tea spreading dark and bloody over the cheery floral motifs. You immediately dropped to your knees, pressing the ends of your dress to it in a desperate attempt to soak it away before the damage was permanent, but all your efforts awarded you were cuts littering your hands and knees, translucent shards digging into your palms and slicing thin, stinging streaks which might, if they scarred, change the read of your fate-lines permanently.

“I am sorry,” you said. “My hand slipped — I didn’t think it would break — and now I have ruined it! I have ruined it, I did not mean to, please forgive me, I am so very sorry—”

“Why do you apologize so incessantly?” he said, helping you stand and picking the glass out of your hands with academic precision. “This carpet is yours. You can do what you want with it.”

“It is my husband’s,” you corrected. “As with everything in this empire, it belongs to him. By destroying it, I am destroying a small piece of him, and I do not want to do that. I am not permitted to do that.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, if you are apprehensive about learning his reaction, don’t be. He will forgive you. He has finer carpets than this one, and needs more excuses to use them. Anyways, he won’t know of it unless you or I tell him, and I shall keep my silence if you swear to as well. Does that pacify you? Then let us continue with the earlier subject.”

“Yes,” you said. “You are commanding me to fulfill my obligations to him. I know I must, but…”

“Allow me to finish,” he said. “I understand that you have no desire for my brother. You needn’t affirm it, I know you cannot, but I am sure when I say that you cannot deny it, either, not if you are being honest with yourself. You hold neither love nor lust for him, and so any children born of your union will be puny, perhaps not even surviving past infancy.”

“How can you be so certain of that?” you said.

“It is enough of a trend in our family that some wonder if it is a genuine curse,” he said. “Those kings who are born of joy are robust, vigorous men, while those of withering wombs are invalid and infirm from the start.”

“I see,” you said.

“You will not come to love him,” he predicted. “He pays no special attention to you, and the only gift he has ever given you is a ghastly prince you are forbidden from so much as seeing. What basis is there for love? So there is only one thing which can be done: you must find someone else, someone who will lie with you knowing that they will lose their life for it, and then you must pretend as though the ensuing child belongs to my brother alone.”

“You mean for me to commit such a sin?” you said incredulously. “You would endanger three lives for the sake of one? For you must know that my husband would not spare any of us — myself, the father, or the son — if he were to discover that he had been deceived in such a way.”

“He will never discover it,” he promised you. “I personally ensure that he won’t. Choose someone beneath notice, or someone who you trust with your entire being, and he will never come to know of it.”

“There is no one like that,” you said.

He smiled at you, dropping your hands and calling for a servant to fetch a broom. You eyed him, taking a skittish step backwards, but he did not match it, did not chase after you with an insistence that you listen to his idea, which was so far-fetched as to be closer to genuine fiction than probability.

“Don’t be so sure,” he said amiably. “You might be surprised at what suitors you will find, if you only think to ask.”

How was it, that in this entire palace, this entire empire, so filled with noble, genteel lords and refined, elegant ladies, you could only find sanity and solace in the cellar? How was it that until the sun set and you ran down those stairs, the stone slick and dense beneath your racing feet, you found yourself living in the type of delirious dream characteristic of fevers, and it was only there, in that dark, contained world consisting of nothing but yourself and Mydeimos and the chains which bound him, you could, for even a second, wake up?

“You wish to ask me something,” he said when he was about halfway finished with the food you had brought him. You were sitting on the blanket, the one with the lions and the hounds, and although you were pretending to be engrossed with flipping the corners up and down like a child with a new game, you had indeed been observing him from beneath your lowered lashes. “If it is so, then you should just ask. I will answer as best as I can.”

“Do you have a wife?” you said, deciding that if it had plagued you for this long, there was nothing to be lost in asking, especially as he had given you the permission for it.

He choked on the piece of fish he had just bitten into, thumping on his chest and coughing to dislodge it.

“What?” he said.

“A wife,” you said. “Do you have one? I mean, are you married?

“No,” he said.

“Really? But you are a prince,” you said.

“So?” he said, sneering as he regained his composure. “That doesn’t mean anything. I have spent my entire life far too busy with the care of my people to pay any mind to such a trivial construct as marriage.”

“Then you will not be able to understand my dilemma quite as well,” you said, both because it was the truth and because you wished to hide that you were, for some reason, relieved by this development. “But I will tell you anyway.”

“Your dil—you intend to seek my counsel regarding your marriage?” he said. “Surely you jest.”

“If you did have a wife,” you said, ignoring the scoff he let out at that. “If you did, and she bore a son by another man, what would you do to him?”

“I suppose I would put him to death, as would be expected of me,” he said.

“What if it was not his fault? What if your wife was the one who begged him to do it?” you said. “Would you kill them both?”

“No,” he said, sliding the still half-filled plate over to you and wrinkling his nose when you tried to give it back. “I would not kill her. Even if she were entirely to blame, I would not. It is easy to give the order for a nameless, faceless man’s death, but when it is someone you love, it is difficult.”

“Say you do not love her,” you urged, giving in to his unspoken behest and spearing a cooked vegetable through with the silver fork he had left atop the plate.

“Then I would not have wed her, and so she would not be my wife, in which case this entire situation would never occur in the first place,” he said, and rather smugly at that. “There you have it. Is that all, or must we continue this game? I thought that you were in some genuine trouble and required proper advice.”

“I…” you trailed off into a sighing exhale, suddenly finding yourself entirely foolish for expecting something like condolence from him. “Never mind.”

“Fatigue can drive someone to the brink of madness,” he said, and behind the gruffness was a note of solicitude. “Why don’t you sleep?”

“I can’t,” you told him. “I try, every night for a few hours after I have returned to my chambers, but inevitably it ends the same: I am caught in the throes of a nightmare which leaves me more debilitated than before. I cannot escape anguish, it seems.”

“Sleep here,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his sharp nose in the air — an affected show of haughtiness that even a child would not fall for. “You have given me much, so in return, for just this one night, I will guard your dreams and defend you from that which troubles you.”

“Here? You mean the floor? What sort of proposition—” you broke off, wilting at the dull look he gave you. “Er, my apologies. I meant no offense, and really, I am appreciative that you would offer to do such a thing, but I am sure it will come to nothing, so let us not waste any time with an attempt. My woes are self-inflicted, after all, and thus undeserving of pity, of your pity especially.”

There were many mysteries contained within this prince — of terrors, of victory, of sacrifice and of subjugation — you knew this well, so well that by now it should have ceased to surprise you when he did something odd, when he proved himself to be so opposite to the philistine warrior everyone claimed he was. Yet that did not stop perplexity from washing over you when he exhaled heavily, extending his legs and leaning his head against the wall.

“Come,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him, not from anger but out of a genuine desire to understand his method.

“Where shall I go?” you said patiently. “I am already here with you.”

“You will not sleep on the floor,” he said. “I do not know — well, I mean, one of my legs has this infernal chain about it, so it’ll hardly be any better, but perhaps it will be enough of an improvement?”

“Pardon?” you said. “I must confess I am still confused.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and when he elaborated, it was through gritted teeth, each word bullied out with a diffidence so at odds with his imposing posture and broad physique.

“You may use me for your own measures,” he said. “You will meet your end if you do not, and then what? So let us make this one attempt. Lay your head in my lap if you cannot accept the floor, and, even if it is fleeting and fraught, come to sleep.”

Your mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and then you were laughing, burying your face in your hands as you giggled helplessly, because wasn’t it such a joke? All the vows and magic that your husband had needed in order to tie your tongue, and yet here was Mydeimos, his greatest enemy, who had managed to steal your voice with merely the offer of his lap for you to lay your head upon.

His thigh was hard, muscular against your cheek, and although he was abnormally hot, it was not in the way of a fever; rather, it seemed natural, as if he were born to run at this temperature, a streak of fire that had deigned to coalesce into the shape of a man for some time. In comparison, the links of the thrice-blessed chains were freezing, and you shifted so that they did not push into your forehead, wanting nothing of the empire to touch you, wishing that nothing of this place would touch him, either, even if that could never be the case.

“Why do you trust me so much?” he said after a while. “You have from the beginning. I could have killed you so many times, dear lady, in so many ways — I even told you that, and yet you have not faltered.”

“Hm,” you said, rolling over so that you were on your back and could peer up at him. “I don’t know.”

His palm met your stomach with the lightness of a butterfly, splaying over it as he used his other hand to cover your eyes so that you had no choice but to close them. Your breaths grew shallow from that same ache as the other night, that ache which you were beginning to think did not originate from fear but another source entirely.

“The fork you give me to eat,” he said. “I could tear you asunder with it. It’s good silver, and sturdy — of course, it’s no spear, and I am nowhere near my full strength, but against you it would be more than sufficient as a weapon.”

He traced a path up your sternum, and then he encircled your neck with his fingers, placing no pressure upon it, only rubbing up and down along the furrows between your tendons.

“There is enough slack in my chains,” he said. “I could draw you close, throw them around your neck, and pull them taut until your throat is crushed.”

He hummed, and then his hand slid to your heart, which pounded and pounded until you thought it really was a puzzle that it did not burst forth and make its home in his fist.

“But all of these accoutrements are superfluous,” he said. “If I want, I can tear your heart out with only my hands — or, if your husband is to be believed, my teeth. I can do it now, and all too easily.”

“Yes,” you said. “You could.”

“You are frightened,” he said rhetorically.

“I’m not,” you said.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he said. “And I have just explained to you how simply I could kill you, as well as how frequently I have considered it. Surely you are.”

“That isn’t why it’s beating,” you said.

“Then?” he said.

“It’s because you’re here,” you said. “I can’t explain much beyond that, but I do not think — I do not think it would beat like this for anyone else.”

“No one has ever said that to me,” he said. “I am the one who silences hearts. Never have I been accused of accomplishing the inverse.”

“That is the reason,” you repeated. “I feel that it must be.”

He lifted his hand from your chest and patted your cheek, refusing to move the other from where it still soothed over your sore eyes.

“Well, no good will come of pondering it any longer,” he said, and if you strained, you could hear the faintest traces of a smile in his words. “Sleep now, and do not worry about your nightmares; the savage prince of a savage land is far more frightening than any visions your mind can come up with, and as you have conquered me, so, too, can you conquer them.”

You did not even have the wherewithal to ask him what he meant by that before the darkness and the warmth he afforded you lured you into the deepest pits of unconsciousness, where you had not been since you had come to this empire. And whether it was his presence or his reassurance or some magic — well, likely not the latter, the gods of this empire held no love for either of you — you really did not wake for many hours, sleeping, for the first time in months, without a single dream to haunt you.

“I apologize, brother, but it really is impossible to secure the south from the sea,” your husband’s cousin said from position at your husband’s right. “I have consulted with the best naval captains this empire has to offer, and they all give the same answer.”

“Consult them again, then, or find some better advisors. How is it that the kingdoms by the Southern Sea have flourished for as long as they have, and yet we cannot so much as make a foothold without it being swept away?” your husband snapped.

They had been going back-and-forth in this way for some time now, running in circles and saying the same thing over and over, neither satisfied with the other’s perspective. Ordinarily, you would’ve been brought to tears by the grating, cyclical nature of the discussion, as well as the rapidly rising volume, but today you were far too content with the bliss that a proper night’s rest brought to let them sully your happiness.

“Perhaps we should ask your darling wife,” his cousin suggested. “How about it, lady? Any maritime wisdom or common sense you’d like to share?”

“They say the sea knows more than we do,” you said, alarmed by the sudden address but disguising it well. “Perhaps it’s sending a message.”

“A message?” your husband said. “About what, exactly?”

Leave this place. Never return. The sea is not yours. The sun is not yours. I am not yours. He is not yours. Leave, leave, leave, you damnable man, leave these waters at once, leave me at once, leave and rot in the eternal winter of your solitary empire. The sea is not yours. The sun is not yours. I am not yours. He is not yours. Mydeimos is not yours, he’s not, he’s not. Leave while you still can. Leave while I still allow it. You thought it might be something like that.

“I cannot say, my lord,” you said, bowing your head so he did not notice that your eyes smarted when you were, once again, rendered mute and dumb before him. “But might I recommend that you turn your attention elsewhere for the time being? The season of the storms approaches rapidly once more, and the waters will only grow more and more treacherous. It may be better if you wait until it is over.”

“Let us concentrate our efforts on Kremnos and leave the south for now,” his cousin said. “We will be all the better for it.”

“Kremnos,” your husband repeated, his countenance unreadable, everything about him carefully neutral. “I do not foresee them being a problem for much longer, but if you both think that we should withdraw from the sea for the time being, then who am I to continue in my mulish refusals?”

“Have you come up with some new strategy?” his cousin said. “I thought that we were at somewhat of an impasse with the Kremnoans, our last victory being the capture of Mydeimos.”

“It is not new, necessarily, but finally nearing fruition,” your husband said. “Patience, brother; as I tell you and my dear lady so constantly, all will be revealed in time.”

“You preach patience far more than any man endowed with so little of it ought to,” his cousin said, although he said it more to you, flashing an innocent grin that you did not reciprocate in the slightest.

Ever since he had recommended you find another to father the first of your sons, you had begun to see your husband’s cousin in a new light. Your husband was the more obvious of the two, so charming that he could not be anything but false, his comeliness in the way of a brightly-petaled flower, warning those who knew the signs that he was a peril, something to be avoided or, if touch was inevitable, then treated carefully, with the utmost of prudence. His cousin, on the other hand, did not have that same showmanship, that flair — he didn’t need to, not when he could somehow wheedle out one’s greatest secrets without ever divulging any of his own.

He did everything with the sort of deliberate scrupulousness that only a second son would, and the more you thought about it, the uneasier you grew that you were an object of some contention between the two of them. Neither your husband nor his cousin would ever say it, but you could tell from their wily, duplicitous exchanges that they both wanted something out of you, and furthermore that whatever it was each wanted was different, at odds with his counterpart’s desires, setting them against one another even as they continued to behave as though they were true-born brothers of blood and body and mind alike.

“There’s news from the Southern Sea, by the way,” your husband said, his hand on the small of your back as he walked with you to your chambers, where you would spend the day as you always did, with idle amusements that did little to occupy your mind but would at least pass the time until you could go to the cellar once again. “About the king. Do you wish to hear?”

“The king?” you said. “Yes, yes, what is it? Of course I wish to hear. Is he alright?”

“They say he is gravely ill,” your husband said.

You thought you had known despair. You thought you had known anguish. You thought that pain and suffering were things that you were deadened to, that you had learnt how to live with, but everything you had ever experienced paled in comparison to this. It was as if a million needles drove into you at once, the tips a scorching white, melting away at every carefully constructed layer of armor you had drawn over yourself, boring into the veneer of magic that prevented you from screaming and wailing and shaking your husband until he let you go home.

“What is it?” you said. “What has beset him?”

“The southerners are such silly, high-strung folks,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Believe it or not, but apparently, his physicians say that his affliction is none other than grief.”

“Grief?” you repeated, and then you were grabbing his arm and you hated yourself for it, but if you did not hold onto something you would crumple to the ground, you would crumple and never get up and you couldn’t — you couldn’t — “Grief? What do you mean?”

“His eldest daughter,” he said. “She has left him, and now he is dying of his longing for her.”

“I—” Your hands came to your neck, and they felt so different from Mydeimos’s, which had claimed that very same place only hours before — a constraint instead of a consolation, a sentence instead of a supplication.

“He never loved anyone the way he loved that girl, after all,” he said, his eyes sparkling, like he was daring you to say something and finding exorbitant glee in the way you couldn’t, in the way your throat closed whenever you tried to curse him. “It’s a sorry thing, really. Perhaps seeing her even once might be enough to cure him…but we both know that’s not going to happen, is it? Oh, we have arrived at your chambers! Good day, dear lady. I shall see you for dinner.”

The worst was that you could not bring yourself to shed even a tear. You lay in your bed on your back, staring blankly at the ceiling, numb to the world as the scene played over and over in your mind. The king. They say he has taken ill. At one point, your husband’s cousin knocked on your door and told you it was time for supper, but you ignored him, or maybe it was more accurate to say that you didn’t even hear him in the first place. Perhaps seeing her even once might be enough to cure him…but we both know that’s not going to happen, is it?

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t cry. You couldn’t breathe. The sun set and the moon rose and still you were immobile, because what did it matter? The Southern Sea was lost; it had been from the start, you supposed. Your marriage had only been a delay of the inevitable, but you had known from the start that things would end like this, had known that the empire would never settle for anything less than total suppression.

Yet if that was the case, if you would meet your end regardless, then why could you not at least meet it at your home, as yourself? Why instead were you here, metamorphosed into this soulless doll, removed from all you had ever loved? Maybe you deserved it. Maybe this was your punishment for taking the easy way, the simple route, for caving to the empire instead of staying true and fighting as your father had wanted to. Maybe you should not have been surprised, and maybe you might’ve tolerated it if you were the only one bearing the consequences — but it was not just you, it was everyone, and this was what hurt you the most, what felt like twenty consecutive blows to your stomach, to that vulnerable flesh which would so easily rupture, which you thought really might rupture the longer you spent ruminating on the throwaway conversation which had irrevocably changed the course of your day, of your life.

Where you found the strength to stand, you could not say. It was instinct at this point, the act of sliding out of your bed, gathering a blanket and whatever food you had stashed away for Mydeimos before trudging down to the cellar where he awaited you. This must’ve been the reason, then — you were so accustomed to the work that your body operated even in the absence of your mind, such that you were handing his plate to him before you even realized where you were.

“Thank you,” he said before tilting his head at you. “Would you like some?”

“What?” you said. He held up the plate, and a second later, you registered his question. “No, I don’t want to eat anything from here.”

He raised his eyebrows but did not comment on it further, and so the two of you sat in quietude. You had so much you might’ve told him but could not; as for him, you guessed it was the inverse, in that he could say whatever it was he pleased, but there was just so little he wanted to say that the effect was the same.

“This empire has such finicky gods,” you said finally, focusing on the red of his throat, the way it crested and then ebbed with every swallow. “They will grant you any wish, as long as it is done in some form of three. Creation, preservation, death — father, man, son — this world has a propensity for the number, it seems, so doesn’t it make sense? And what amazing things you can do when you understand that. Repeat a phrase thrice over and think of the messenger lord; he will afford you the ability for it to be heard anywhere in the world, as long as you have been there once. Make your wedding vows three times under a portrait of the lady of matrimony; you will be bound by them until death.”

“We don’t believe in these miracles in Kremnos,” he said. “They are explicable by coincidence and cunning.”

“Even where I am from, we only recognize one god, and it is less god, more entity,” you said, speaking, of course, of the sea. “One we do not worship, but who loves us regardless. It is a more sustainable approach in my mind.”

“That is how it is for us,” he said. “Our religion is found on the battlefield, and victory is our only prayer. Sometimes, I wish it were not the case, that our devotion was not so violent, so all-consuming…but that is how it is.”

“Perhaps it is violent, but at least it is fair,” you said. “Not like here. Not like these gods, who will enforce even cruelty if it is asked of them.”

“You resent them,” he said. “You cannot confirm it, I am sure, cannot speak ill of them any more than you can of your husband. But I have come to understand your ways, and so I am sure you resent them.”

“If only there were something I could do to them,” you said, reassured immeasurably by his comprehension. “Some way I could — some way I could —”

“Rebel?” he completed for you when you clearly could not. You nodded, and he pouted in thought, pushing his now-empty plate away and reclining back against the wall the way he always did when he was finished. “I am sorry. I am a heretic in these lands; I do not know their traditions well enough to blaspheme them.”

“Oh,” you said. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Hm?” he said, watching you as you shuffled over so that you were sitting beside him, the blanket covering you both, his arm all but scalding against yours. “What are you doing?”

“You are the antithesis of this empire,” you said. “You are everything my husband hates, everything he wishes to destroy. With your mere existence, you imprecate his gods, and so I shall force those deities to defend your every sacrilegious breath. Those celestial beings who bore silent witness to your capture, to my wedding…by my will, for how much they have cursed you, they will now be bound to defend you with threefold the vigor!”

Mydeimos was motionless as you combed your fingers through his hair, his expression reverent like you were not just channeling a divinity you had no claim to but in fact were that divinity yourself. Your movements were careless, your knuckles banging against his chin, your palm skimming along his neck, but he did not complain, only staring at you with that same gentle admiration that would’ve made you flush with heat if only you were not so terribly focused on remembering everything you had ever read on the religion of your husband’s empire.

Brushing the rest of his hair over his shoulder, you took a lock from near his nape, twirling it around your finger and then holding it to your lips, murmuring words from a language neither of you held claim to but which you had memorized before your wedding, words which opened the both of you to the surveillance of the gods that would fulfill your commands.

“Integrity,” you said, separating the tress of hair into three sections and pulling the leftmost taut. “May your causes be ever strong and true; may you always be just and forthright in your actions; may you never waver from the path of honor.”

You crossed it over the middle strand, and then you took the rightmost, which was like silk in your grasp, dancing like sunbeams in the lamplight.

“Loyalty,” you said. “May your people never betray you; may your men follow you until the bitter end; may you always have the might of your kingdom at your back.”

This, too, you crossed over the middle, the careful weave of a braid beginning to form, the neat v’s that would mark him as forever blessed, forever watched over by gods, by you.

“Love,” you said, swallowing as you took the final piece, finding that your mouth was dry from more than overuse. “May you alway be loved, prince of Kremnos.”

A knot in your stomach unraveled as you worked, your fingers remembering the motions despite how long it had been since you had played with the hair of a friend or cousin. It was the knot of repression, of every single thing you had shoved down in the name of propriety, in the name of all the vows you had sworn, and as the warmth radiating from him sank into your bones, warding away the cold of this place for the first time since you had come to it, your vision began to swim with tears.

“I wish it were you,” you said, tucking the braid back amongst the rest of his hair, mussing it up so that it was as wild as a lion's mane, allowing your hands to fall into your lap as you wept in earnest, the break of your voice as much a product of your compounded grief as it was a supernatural effect. “I wish it were you, oh, how I wish that you were the one who had — who had —”

Married me. That was what you wanted to say. How I wish that you were the one who had landed upon the shores that day, how I wish that you were the one I had met with the sea at my feet and the sun on your shoulders, how I wish that you were that one who had married me.

“Don’t cry,” he admonished, holding your jaw with the care one might afford to a sculpture made of glass, using his thumbs to wipe at your cheeks and eyes. “Y/N, Y/N, don’t cry. Please don’t.”

You froze, and then you were grabbing his wrists, holding them in place, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you in this realm. It must’ve bruised him, the weight of your fingertips against his veins, but he still gazed at you with that same mildness.

“What did you just call me?” you said.

“Y/N,” he said. “It is your name, is it not?”

“I never told you, so how…?” you said.

“Even in Kremnos, we have heard of the princess of the Southern Sea,” he said. “I was very young when news of your birth came, but I remember it as if it were yesterday, hiding behind my father’s throne so I could hear the announcement. Y/N L/N, they called you, a fine babe who will grow into the most beautiful girl the sea has ever whelped. I loved you then, I think; I loved you as soon as they said you were born to seals and whale-song.”

“Say it again,” you demanded. “My name, which no one else in this wretched place knows or cares to learn — say it again.”

“Y/N,” he said.

“Again,” you said, and then you were sobbing, viscerally and searingly and pathetically. “Say it again, please say it again, I miss it, I miss my father and all these things I cannot speak of, you do not know but I miss them so much I sometimes think I will be ruined by it—”

“I know,” he said, and then he was prying your hands off of him and gathering you in his arms, holding you to his chest and stroking your hair as you bawled. “Y/N. I do know. The sea, who is your mother; the king, who is your father; the home, which you left to protect. I do know.”

“How?” you choked out. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

“I am not such a sound sleeper,” he said. “Everything you have ever wanted to say to me, I have heard. I know you, Y/N L/N. Beloved princess of the Southern Sea, if nothing else, I swear to you this: I know you.”

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mikashisus @ivana013-blog @mizukiqr @shehrazadekey @simp-simp-no-mi @reapersan @casualgalaxystrawberry @secretive3amramenmaker @academiq @chokifandom @voiddance @qwnelisa @duckydee-0 @anti-social-fox @iwumrndbm @elenaishere05 @belovedoftheanemoarchon @lannnu @ariichive @nightmarewasheree @seyboo @moons-and-mistakes @she-yaa @nayukiyukihira @sillykawa @yoyach @sugilitez @guineverewaves @pe4rlple @celestial--atlas @4acoffee @itseightamineedsleep @sunnywrites101 @moonskins @yourfavoritefreakyhan @fleuriion @luvether @lum1nesc3nce @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @lasrlo [if your tag does not show up in grey, that means tumblr had an issue with it, sorry! sometimes it does that sadly]

#mydei x reader #mydei x y/n #mydei x you #mydei #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #reader insert #fantasy au #threefold #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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starsjulia · 3 months ago

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Best Birthday Ever // Leah Williamson

a/n : someone requested this but i can’t find it for the life of me… sorry!

warnings : leah and reader are caught in the act…

It was a beautiful, peaceful morning, birds chirping, the sun shining, the perfect day for your birthday celebrations.

Unfortunately, no one had informed Beth Mead that she was about to experience a horror worse than any she had faced on a football pitch.

Beth had arrived early, eager to surprise you for your birthday, thinking herself thoughtful and considerate. The plan was simple: let herself in (Leah never locked the door anyway), set up some decorations, and bask in the glory of being the best friend ever.

However, what she walked into was not a scene of domestic bliss.

No, what Beth Mead walked into was a nightmare.

A full-blown, trauma-inducing, therapy-requiring nightmare.

Because there, in the middle of the living room sofa, where guests would soon be expected to sit, was Leah Williamson. And she was on top of you.

In the act.

Beth’s entire body seized up. Her soul attempted to evacuate her body. Her mouth opened, but her brain refused to form words.

Meanwhile, you screamed like you were being set on fire.

Leah, on the other hand, simply turned her head, grinned, and greeted Beth as if she hadn’t just been caught mid-thrust.

“Oh, morning, Beth! You’re early.”

Beth finally found the ability to move and immediately hurled her house keys at Leah’s head.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL—LEAH?! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?!”

Leah dodged them effortlessly, still looking far too amused for someone in her position.

“I mean, I’d have thought that was pretty obvious, mate.”

You, meanwhile, were in hell.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” you whispered, slamming your hands over your face as if that would somehow make you disappear.

Beth was now backing out of the room, as if she had walked into the den of Satan himself. “I NEED A PRIEST. I NEED HOLY WATER. I NEED TO UNSEE EVERYTHING. OH MY GOD—YOU TWO ARE VILE.”

Leah, completely unashamed, simply shrugged, still finding the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

“Oh, come off it, Mead. Bit dramatic, isn’t it?”

Beth pointed an accusing finger. “Dramatic?! DRAMATIC?! I JUST WALKED INTO LIVE ACTION PORN IN ME BEST MATE’S HOUSE! YOU THINK I’M BEING DRAMATIC?!”

Leah burst out laughing again.

You were seconds away from physically dragging Leah into another dimension where you could live in peace, away from the shame of this moment.

“Leah, for the love of God, shut up.”

Beth was now full-body shaking. “I came here to decorate. For the birthday party. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE.” She let out a breath. “AND YOU TWO—YOU TWO WERE DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT AT TEN IN THE BLOODY MORNING.”

Leah smirked. “Well, actually, it was more like half-nine, wasn’t it, babe?”

You threw a cushion at her face.

Beth, still vibrating with horror, took a deep breath and slowly backed toward the door.

“I’m leaving,” she announced.

Leah pouted. “You just got here.”

“I AM LEAVING. I AM GOING TO GO HOME, I AM GOING TO PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED, AND I AM NEVER COMING TO THIS HOUSE WITHOUT KNOCKING EVER AGAIN.”

She pointed one last, trembling finger. “And you two? You are sick, perverted freaks, and I hope you know that.”

Then, without another word, she turned and walked out the door.

Leah?

Leah was howling with laughter.

You?

You were seconds away from death via sheer embarrassment.

“I am never looking her in the eyes again,” you mumbled into your hands.

⸻

A Few Hours Later

The trauma had not subsided.

Beth had returned (hesitantly, after triple-checking that the house was safe), and the rest of the team had arrived for the party.

Unfortunately, Beth Mead was not one to suffer in silence.

The second everyone was gathered around, drinks in hand, music playing, she stood up, cleared her throat, and raised her voice so everyone could hear.

“Right, I’d just like to take a moment to formally announce that I will no longer be accepting invitations to Leah and Y/N’s house unless I have legal documentation stating that they are both fully clothed at all times.”

The room erupted in confused laughter.

You froze.

Leah smirked, immediately knowing what was coming.

“Beth, don’t you—”

“Oh, I fucking will.” Beth turned to the crowd. “Do you lot know what I had the absolute displeasure of walking into this morning?”

You slammed your face into your hands.

“BETHANY, PLEASE.”

Beth ignored you, taking a dramatic pause before announcing, loudly and proudly:

“LEAH WILLIAMSON RAW-DOGGING ONE OF MY BEST MATES ON THE LIVING ROOM SOFA.”

Silence.

Absolute, stunned silence.

Then…

Chaos.

Viv fell off her chair.

Lotte screamed.

Katie had to physically hold onto the table to keep herself upright.

You?

You were considering moving to another country.

Meanwhile, Leah?

Leah was laughing her head off.

Beth took a triumphant sip of her beer.

“Happy birthday, Y/N. Hope it was worth scarring me for life.”

#woso #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson x you #leah williamson one shot #leah williamson fluff

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catsteeth · 8 months ago

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Cold Steel Hot Skin

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Stark Reader

+:✿ Request ✿:+ : part 2 - part 3

Request: “Jacaerys and FemStark!Reader have been betrothed during the whole war. Team Black wins the war and Rhaenyra is crowned queen. After Jace and the Reader are married, the night is filled with celebration. Reader pulls Jace away and gives him head while he's sitting on the throne. Sub!Jace with lots of praise and reassurance.” CW: MDNI, SMUT, oral sex (m rec), afab reader, arranged marriage, NSFW themes, misogyny, mention of death, praise, sub jace, dom reader, mention of parental death.

Word Count: 5k

You were prepared to marry a high-born son, you were prepared for it all your life. You were taught how to make a man happy. Watch your tongue, speak little, and never your mind. Do whatever your husband commands of you, give no resistance. Smile and stay amenable. Only you were not your mother's idea of a perfect wife by nature.

No, you were raised alongside your brothers. You favored horse riding to sewing, archery to singing, and hunting to practicing your courtesies.

However as the threat of war drew closer, the need for the North’s strength grew more desperate. The house of the dragon did not know whose head ruled it. Aegon the drunken prince or Rhaenyra the king's firstborn. Both the greens and the blacks came to your brother, Cregan Stark who now ruled as warden of the north. They wanted the North's strength to earn their power.

Cregan only bent his knee to Rhaenyra after he spoke with Prince Jacaerys. The men were similar in age and he felt the Prince would be better suited to the throne than his uncle.

Though armies and power are not handed to anyone for free, in return for the North’s support, Cregan asked that his sisters be considered for one of the Queen's sons to wed, or perhaps one of his brothers for one of her nieces.

You hoped desperately that you would be spared from this fate. You never had any interest in men or marriage. Your septa’s always told you to obey your husband. That if you didn’t perhaps he would hit you, or take you by force. Honestly, you feared a husband, they sounded like horrid creatures.

It took time to hear back, but soon a raven arrived. It said what you feared it might. The crowned prince himself would take the north’s eldest daughter to wed.

You practiced holding your tongue and putting on a smile. You found it easy not to speak, speaking would do you no good anyway. But forcing a smile was a difficulty.

You fidgeted with the beaded embellishments of the embroidery on your dress. Biting your cheek you stood by the door of your house's great hall. Listening to your brother and the prince speaking. “My prince, my sister Lady Stark.”

You looked at the prince cautiously. Though he was not as frightful as you thought he might be. He was quite handsome. But that did not mean he was kind. You curtseyed as you were taught to do hundreds of times. “I hope I do not disappoint you, my prince.” You spoke in a higher and softer tone than you did naturally.

Jace took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “You could never, my Lady.”

He seemed gentle, and kind.

Your fears did not rest, however. He was kind in front of you brother, a large and imposing man. That did not mean he would be kind when away from peering eyes.

The ride in the carriage felt uncomfortable. You were frightened by him in honesty. You knew that you would wed a high-born man but never did you think you’d marry a prince, and never did you think you would become a queen.

You were unsure of him, unsure of what he was like. Would he hit you? Would he yell? He was to be the king, surely he could do whatever he liked.

Your unease only worsened when your eyes fell back onto him, noticing that he was still looking at you.

As soon as he noticed your uneasy gaze, he smiled to himself and looked down “I apologize I am staring.” he said shaking his head.

You shrugged, “That’s alright. I am to be yours by law, you may stare at me if you wish to.” You were trained for this moment, this was your first willing submission.

Jace’s eyes looked up at you, his gaze narrowed at you in confusion, “I do not own you, my Lady.” He leaned forward towards you, “If I do something to displease you I wish to know.”

You felt surprised, not only was this man willing for you to be your own person but he encouraged it. He wanted you to be a participant in his life and this marriage.

You took a breath, then dropped your doe-like expression. Replacing it with your natural stern demeanor, common in the North. “Why are you staring at me?” You asked plainly now in your natural tone. It made Jace smile. “If I do truly disappoint I have other sisters-”

“You do not. I did not lie.” Jace interrupted you, it almost made you flinch. Perhaps you were too bold with your words. Though his eyes softened towards you, letting you relax in the warmth of his gaze. “I do not want your sisters or any other woman.” Once again he surprised you. How could he say such a thing when he did not know you? Even if he believed you to be the most beautiful woman in the world, for all he knew you could have been the most cruel woman alive. “I am staring because I am taken by you.” He finished with a soft grin.

You blushed slightly. Feeling a grin beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth, you looked away from him. “You do not know me.” You said, shaking your head.

Jace chuckled to himself, “You are skeptical. I know that now.”

You smiled slightly at his amusement, “People should be.” you said with a raised brow.

He smiled as he bit his lip, “And now I know you are intelligent.” he said with a nod.

You could not hide your smile this time. You scoffed a laugh as you looked outside your carriage, noticing the large green beast in the sky flying above you. “I thought you would be on your dragon.” You said looking towards Vermax in the sky.

“I wanted time to speak plainly with you, and Vermax is not yet big enough for two,” Jace said earnestly. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his presence.

You looked back to Jace, “Not sure how I would fare on a dragon's back.” you said with a stifled laugh.

“I think you’ll do fine considering you’re a skilled horse rider,” Jace said with a smirk as your eyes widened.

Once again this prince had surprised you. You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned in forward, “You do know about me.”

Jace smiled, stifling a laugh as he looked down, “I confess I might have read quite a bit about your family before coming here.” He looked back at you, “And then I found that I was reading quite a bit about you.” He said as if he were admitting a great secret.

He was not lying either. When prompted with the offer of marriage, Jace was hesitant. He even suggested wedding his little brother Joffrey to one of your younger sisters. But once he began to read of your family, he found himself wanting to know more and more about you. He found himself fascinated by you, and once there was nothing left to read about you he decided he’d rather marry you.

You felt heat dash across your cheeks as your blush revealed how much he’d flattered you. “A dull read for a Prince, I am sure.”

He shook his head, “Far from it.” He said earnestly, his eyes looking at you as if you were a beautiful and extravagant painting.

You and he talked the entire ride to the ship to Dragonstone. He continued to ask you questions about yourself throughout the ride. You did not ask him any in return. You did not know what to ask, what could you ever have in common with a prince?

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Once at Dragonstone, most of your days were spent completing errands for the queen, or if you were lucky, sharing a thought or opinion at the small council. She thought it was important for you to participate as you were to be queen one day.

You also spent much of your time avoiding the prince. You caught him staring at you many times, and his gaze lingered on you as you walked through a room.

But you hardly had a moment alone to yourself. You had nary a moment to ride a horse, practice your swordplay, or even read. So once you were able to be alone, you decided to practice your archery. Although you did not know that the prince also shared that desire.

At The top of a tall hill, was a training field. It had tall wooden targets made specifically for practicing your arrow's aim. As you made your way up the steep path to the top, you were caught off guard by the sound of an arrow hitting a wooden target that stood mere inches from where the path ended.

You continued up the path, peering behind the wooden target to see Jace pointing his crossbow at that same target. “My prince.” You said calmly despite his aim.

“My Lady!” Jace said surprised, and pointing the crossbow away from you, “My apologies.”

“No need.” You shrugged, “I am not maimed.”

He stifled a laugh, “I should hope not.”

You approached the wooden target, looking at the arrow that had pierced it with clear ferocity as the wood splintered and broke from the impact, “That’s quite the shot.” You said as your fingers trailed along the arrow.

“Thank you-”

You leaned against the wooden target, “Whom did you imagine it to be?” you asked looking back toward Jace.

Jace hesitated unsure if he should say, “A green.” You could tell by his tone he was holding back the truth.

“Liar.” You said with a grin. Jace looked at you surprised, never had anyone dared question him other than his family. It was refreshing to have you challenge him, “I am sure it was a green but it was more personal than that.” You said pushing yourself off of the wooden target and walking towards Jace.

“Aemond Targaryen.” He said almost immediately. You stopped your steps, feeling somewhat guilty you forced him to divulge such a personal matter. You knew of what happened to his brother.

You looked at him gently, “Aemond should be frightened.” You said earnestly.

“They all should be.” He said, attempting to direct his attention towards anything else, “My mother's armies are fierce and unrelenting.”

“As are you.” You said softly as you continued to walk closer toward him, “Grief is a powerful thing, the want for vengeance even more so.”

Jace felt emotion getting the better of him. But seeing as he was to marry you, he might as well feel able to confide in you, “I miss him.” Jace said weakly.

You were silent for a moment. Unsure of how you could comfort him. But soon you spoke, “I lost mine own sister.” Jace looked at you, “She too was younger than I.” You said with a nod stepping towards him, “I am sure you read about it. It was the cold that took her. The cold wind brings sickness. It makes us northerners stronger, we suffer each sickness so that we never suffer them again.” You stopped speaking for a moment, unsure of how you could continue your story, “But for those who are too weak, too small, too fragile… The cold wind kills them.” You looked at Jace with understanding, another name for love, “I spent years angry at any gust of cold air I felt. I cannot imagine how you feel. To have a face and a name to place that anger.” Jace only looked at you, he never had someone who could understand him so well. He didn’t have the words. But you didn’t need them. You approached him, getting close to his side as you adjusted his grip on his crossbow. “You should hold the stock closer to your shoulder.” you said pushing it to the correct position for him.

Jace looked over his shoulder to you, “I think I am in love with you.” He spoke earnestly, and softly.

You looked back at him, “I know you are.” you spoke as earnestly as he did.

Jace dropped his crossbow. He put your face into his hands, cupping your jaw gently. He looked at you for just a moment. He was going to ask for your permission to kiss you but you pressed your lips to his before he could. “I don’t know how I was ever frightened by you.” You smiled as he stifled a laugh and kissed you again.

You and he from that moment forth, were nearly inseparable.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After the war was fought and over, the Blacks were victorious in their goal to retake Rhaeynra’s rightful throne. Blood was shed of course, but now that it was done with it was time for celebration. And what better way to celebrate than for a royal wedding?

Your gown was heavy, and although you had little regard for fashions even you could appreciate how beautiful it was.

You never thought you’d feel so proud to wear another man's cloak, adorned with the symbol and colors of his house. But you wore the black and red three-headed dragon on your shoulders with great pride and honor.

Your pride did not subside the whole evening. After your vows and kiss were performed, you and your now husband danced in the great hall as the rest of the guests ate, sang, and danced about the room.

Jace held you closely as you danced slowly. Your eyes locked onto his, and both of you were simply dazed with happiness and love. “My husband, the dragon.” You said sweetly with your forehead pressed against his.

Jace’s hand ran over your hair gently, careful not to disturb your intricately braided hair, “My wife, the wolf.” He said with a proud and love-drunk smile.

Your eyes roamed the room, you could see each high-born girl looking at you with jealous eyes. It made you grin, “I think I have made every girl in the seven kingdoms green with envy.” you said leaning into Jace, your eyes still scanning the room.

“And I have driven every man to a jealous rage.” He said with an amused smile as his eyes roamed the room as well.

“Because you’ll be king over them all.” You said gently as you closed your eyes, laying your head against his shoulder.

He leaned in closer to your ear, “Because I’ve married the most beautiful, intelligent, and fierce woman in the known world.” He said sweetly.

You raised your head from his shoulder, looking into his eyes. You could see the love he had for you just by his look. You did not care if it would be considered polite or not, your lips pressed against his own. He did not care either. His hand held you at the nape of your neck.

“Daughter,” A voice called out, it startled you slightly. Daughter was a title you had not been called in years now with your parent’s cold in the crypt. You looked over to see the Queen herself. Rhaenyra looked towards her son, still holding tightly onto you. “Might I have a moment, Jace?” Jace nodded and gave you a small kiss on your temple before leaving you and your mother to speak.

Rhaenyra took you by the arm, walking around the ballroom. “Well, I know your mother could not be here today and I suppose I wanted to give you a word of motherly advice. Political marriage can be a difficult thing to adjust to.” She said with a sigh, “Though it seems my son has had no difficulty in that regard, nor you.” She finished as she looked at you with a warm smile.

You smile back at her, though feeling somewhat embarrassed, “Your son is an honorable man, and I am honored to be his wife.” You said with a nod.

She rubbed your arm gently with her hand, “I have no doubts you will serve our house well.”

“I can only hope so. Your house has been most gracious-”

“Your house.” She corrected you, “It is your house now, my dear.”

You did not know what to say, you’d not felt a motherly touch in so long. “Thank you, your grace.” You said with a smile and respectful nod.

“Seven blessings to you, my dear.” She said smiling, before leaving you.

Afterward, you tried your best to reunite with your new husband, only he was nowhere to be found. As you walked around the great hall you were approached by many guests, all high-born lords and ladies who never paid you any mind before today. They all congratulated you with great respect and spoke oh so highly of you and your family. No doubt attempting to gain favor in the eyes of their future queen. Between this sudden overbearing attention, you now could not help but notice how grand this wedding was. It was far more extravagant than any wedding in the north had ever been.

You drowned your nerves with wine. But you wouldn’t feel any better until you found Jace again.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Once the party was dying out like an exhausted candle, you were determined to find Jace once again.

Somewhat angry and somewhat concerned you attempted to hunt down the prince without causing concern. Soon you were pushing open the large heavy doors to the throne room.

Pushing the door open just enough to look in, you signed as you saw your husband standing in the room staring at the throne.

“I thought you ran away.” You said pushing the doors to the Throne room open.

Jace looked over his shoulder at you and held out his hand towards you, “From the festivities. Not from you.”

You grabbed hold of his hand, “I was quite miserable without you.” You said in annoyance with a pout as he pulled you into his side.

His hand trailed up and down over your back soothingly, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you, I won’t again, I swear it to you.” He said as his hand then snaked around your waist holding you even closer.

You nodded in agreement, “The celebration was generous, far more generous than I am used to.” You said trying not to sound ungrateful. Your fingers trailed over the lavish embroidery of dragons and fire on Jace’s overcoat. “I was happy to hear there would be no bedding ceremony,” you said casually just to tease him, your eyes still following your finger as it traced the intricate stitching of his coat.

Jace’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, “You think that I would allow that?” He said with a slightly aggressive tone as he held you by your chin forcing you to look at him, “Allowing men to paw at you?”

You couldn’t keep up your facade and your grin gave away your intentions. Jace let your chin go as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Such a protective husband you are proving to be.” You said as you kissed the corner of his mouth, “Still even if there is no ceremony-” You kissed the sensitive bit between his jawline and his neck, making him hiss, “I was rather excited for what comes after the wedding.” you said with a luscious gaze.

Jace couldn’t help but widely grin as he stifled a chuckle, “No one is more eager than I am.” He said caressing your cheek, “I just,” He sighed, “I find myself overwhelmed.”

“The war is over, and won.” You said softly, “You should be happy.”

“I am happy.” He said assertively, not wanting you to think otherwise. Then he sighed as he looked towards the throne, “The burden is a heavy one.”

You looked towards the throne as well, “The crown was never meant to be light.” Your eyes then went back to Jace, “Those who are best fit for it proceed it in caution, not enthusiasm.” You already spoke with the wisdom of a queen.

“Are you so comfortable to assume the position of queen?” Jace asked defensively, he did not always like being proven wrong.

You were not upset by his question, “No. Quite the opposite.” You said with a shake of your head, “I always valued my privacy. Never liked having eyes on me, never liked people talking about me.”

“Perhaps you would have been happier to marry a different man.” He sulked.

You narrowed your brows, “Is that how you feel?” You questioned him assertively, sick of his self-pity.

His demeanor changed, becoming softer, “No.” He said holding your jaw gently, “I do not want anyone else.”

You placed a hand on his that held your face, “I know this marriage was arranged but I am happier for it. You are an honorable man, who will make a great king.” You spoke gently.

Jace shook his head, “I have no doubt you will be a beloved queen. You are wise and caring. Born of a noble house.” He said looking at you with admiration.

“As are you.“ You said, wanting him to see himself worthy of his inheritance.

Jace shook his head and looked down as if he were ashamed, “You know what I am.”

You rolled your eyes, “I care not for such trivial matters. You are the son of the rightful queen.”

“And a bastard.” He said frustrated

“And I thank the gods for it.” You said stoically, “I have a taste for men with dark hair.” Your hand combed through his dark curls.

“Funny.” He said without amusement, “But what will people think of a bastard as their king? What will they think of our children-”

“When you take the throne you will no longer be a Velaryon. You will be a Targaryen. That is not a lie. Our children will be Targaryens, that is not a lie.” You interrupted him, already defensive over your future children, “You are a dragon rider, a brave and… handsome man.” You said, trailing off in the end as your eyes admired his features, “I think you just need to get adjusted to the role is all.” You said as you took Jace’s hand, pulling him towards the Throne. “Sit.” You commanded, and be obeyed,

Jace sat on the throne, and you were overcome with desire. He looked so powerful, and he fit in it so perfectly. There was no one else better suited to it.

Jace however did not share your feelings, “This is foolish-” He began about to push himself out of the throne.

“Wait,” You said, placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the throne. You smirked at him as you stepped closer towards him, now standing between his legs, “I quite like the look of you in this chair.” You said as you ran your hand through his hair somewhat roughly, making him look up to you.

Jace grinned, “I quite like the look of you in this gown.” He said as his eyes trailed over your body in the ivory gown.

“Do you like it like this?” You asked as your fingers pulled at the laces of your gown, making it loosen around your shoulders, “Or like this?” You asked as your bare shoulders became exposed and you hiked up your skirts and straddled Jace’s lap.

Overcome by desire, Jace’s hands roamed your body with an untamable want, and his lips found yours with a deep hunger. Since your time in the training yard, you and Jace had kissed many, many, many times. But this was desperate, this was longing. His tongue found your own, and you never knew the warmth that would come with it. This kind of kiss was new.

You moved your mouth to his neck, kissing down until you were unbuttoning his shirt desperate for more skin to kiss.

He could not help but lean into your affections. His hands grasped harder onto your sides, his lips found your exposed skin. The pleasure sent a chill through your spine. You felt a candle light between your legs. Desperate for more, you began to grind your clothed cunt against his mounting excitement.

You smirked as you heard Jace gasp at your bold movements, “We can’t, not in here-” He said breathlessly.

“Why not? You’re the king.” You said softly with a gentle kiss to his neck, “My king.” You smirked at him as you opened his overcoat and blouse, admiring his body that was new to you. “You’ve kissed me before have you not? You are to fuck me tonight are you not? Why can I not sample you?” You asked sweetly, but darkly as you kissed down his chest, over his stomach, until you were kneeling in front of him between his knees as he sat on the throne.

As your hand gently grazed over his thighs, he cupped your cheek gently. “You make me weak. I can’t contain my urges.” He said with a weak smile, too love-drunk to think.

You shook your head, “I don’t want them contained.” You said as you kissed the bulge his throbbing cock was creating beneath his constricting trousers.

Jace tried but failed to conceal his moan of pleasure, “I’ll do whatever my queen commands of me.” he spoke breathlessly, his eyes already begging to roll back in ecstasy though he tried to maintain his composure.

You rested your head against his thigh, teasingly close to his cock. Your eyes were that of a siren of the sea as you looked up at him, “I only wish to serve…” Your hand began to trail over toward the silk laces of his trousers, “My king.” you said as you began to free him from the confines of his clothing.

He gasped again as he watched you, “Gods be good.”

You pulled the expensive fabric of his wedding attire down and his cock eagerly sprung out. You smirked as you looked at it, “Fit for a king.” You said with a smirk, reaching for his length, but stopping just inches before you could touch him, “Can I?” You wanted to be certain before you did it, and he eagerly and desperately nodded. As you took him in your hand he groaned in pleasure. You stroked it slowly, almost painfully slow. With each stroke, you were fixated on the noises you were drawing out of him. Desperate for more, You licked up his shaft before taking him in your mouth, or as much of him as you could take. Sucking slowly and gently, his moans and the lewd sounds from your mouth echoed throughout the empty throne room. As you released him from your mouth desperate for air, you continued to stroke him, “You taste so good.” You said breathlessly.

Jace mewled, and took a deep breath, trying his best not to finish right then and there, “You feel so good, your mouth feels so so good.” He whined beautifully, throwing his head back against the cold steel of the throne.

You began to kiss the tip of his cock, savoring the taste of his precum as it leaked from him, “You like it?” You asked teasingly innocent.

“Y-yes.” He stammered as he groaned

You suddenly stopped your movements, ceasing all attention you were giving him, it was enough to drive him mad as he groaned in agony, “Have you ever had a woman touch you like this?” You asked leaning your head against his thigh, as if you were completely unaware of the torture you were putting him through.

He shook his head eagerly, “N-no, only you.”

You smirked as you took him back in your hand, “You truly are an honorable man.” You gave his cock a final kiss before you turned your attention towards his balls, taking one in your mouth. You were unfamiliar with what you were doing but somehow it came naturally. Your desire drove you in the right direction. Sucking on him as you stroked his cock.

This sensation was all too new for Jace, he threw his head back and moaned erratically, “F-f-f” he stammered

You released him, followed by a lewd noise, “You can curse.” You told him, knowing what he wanted to do.

“Fuck…” He said as if he had resurfaced after being drowned, He looked down at you longingly, “Can I touch you?” He asked desperately.

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness, “Of course, my king.” you said with a nod, taking him back in your mouth again.

His hands went to your head, petting your hair sweetly, being sure to keep your hair out of your face. His moaning only got louder, “Awh, thank you- thank you.” He whined, “You’re so beautiful.” He said as he watched you lovingly stroke and suck on his throbbing length. You squeezed him in a particular way that made his muscles twitch, “Awh! I love you-” He said, his mind empty, but meaning every word.

You released him for just a moment to breathe, “Say it again.” you commanded before taking in your mouth again.

You could feel his grip on your hair tightening, “I love-” He nodded, and you began to stroke fast, suck harder, “Awh!” he moaned out in pleasure as your moments picked up, “I love you, with everything I have.” He spoke breathlessly, “My wife, my queen.”

You could feel his body tensing underneath your touch, you could feel his cock throbbing when harder, his breath and moans more erratic. You knew what was coming, so you did what he hoped to all the Gods that you wouldn’t do, and you stopped. You released him from your mouth and your touch. “Uh-uh.” You said standing up, and pulling your gown back up around your shoulders.

Jace looked at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, “You tease me?” he asked desperately, attempting to catch his breath.

You smirked at the sight in front of you, he sprawled out on the throne nearly fully exposed, “I want you to spill inside me. How else am I to give you children?” You said in a teasing tone.

Jace huffed but smirked, knowing his release was going to be something he earned. He pushed himself back into his trousers and stood.

He smirked at you as he began to rush you out of the throne room, no doubt towards your now shared chambers. Stopping for a moment to push you against the throne room doors to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

As your kiss was released you smiled at him, “I love you, you know?” you spoke gently.

He stifled a laugh and nodded, “I know you do.” he said before kissing you once more before pushing you out of the room and chasing you toward your chambers.

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bloomries · 4 months ago

Note

Hey hey! I hope you’re doing well! I absolutely ADORE your “calling them husband” thing, it’s SO cute! Would you be up to doing similar for the other dateables? (So like… Dia, Barb, Simeon, and Solomon?) if not that’s totally chill too, but figured I’d ask! Either way, have a wonderful weekend!

me and my husband~

includes : diavolo, barbatos, simeon, and solomon.

summary : calling him your "husband" (even though you two aren't married yet) to see his reaction.

warnings : gn! reader. mention of marriage.

part 1

DIAVOLO

You knew you had to be cautious, say it at the wrong time and Barbatos would certainly be pissed- which was something you wanted to avoid more than anything. So, in the early hours, as you helped Diavolo get ready for the day, you couldn't help but tease. "What am I to do alone without my husband?"

At first it's eerily quiet, and you're nervous to glance up to see Diavolo's reaction, his fingers- which rested on your waist- twitch as his grips tightens a bit. "I- I was just prankin-"

He leaned in close, his lips by your ears. "Is that what you want?" His voice was low and smooth. "Should I finally bestow such a title upon you, hm? I've certainly thought about it more than a few times..." He muses, pulling away just enough for you to see the smirk on his lips.

You're still a bit stunned by his sudden shift in demeanor and his hinting words. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Diavolo chuckles. "Be patient for me, spouse. We'll talk more about this tonight, okay?"

And before Barbatos can interrupt such an intimate moment, Diavolo presses a kiss to the corners of your lips before leaving- leaving you stunned and waiting for the promise of tonight.

BARBATOS

You were helping him set up for a party being hosted by the Devildom's prince, wanting to do anything to relieve some of the stress of it for him. "Where should these flowers go?" The delivery man asked, glancing around the giant hall.

"Hmm," you hum in thought, also glancing around the hall. "My husband will want them over there." You say casually, just loud enough to capture the said demon's attention. He didn't really give much of a reaction at first, just glancing your way before returning to the party details.

It wasn't until much later that you finally find out how he feels about your words. "Husband, hm?" He asks, his hand in yours as he leads you two around the dance floor- one of the few pleasures of helping to plan a party. You grin, your eyes sparkling with delight.

"I was wondering if you heard that." Barbatos hums in response, a smile sneaking its way on to his features.

"Whilst I'm not opposed to the title," He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. "Perhaps we should wait until I've properly earned it, hm?"

"Oh? And when will that be?" You tease, biting your lip in anticipation. Barbatos chuckles, taking a step away as the song ends. He bows, placing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Soon, I assure you." And then he's leading you to get a drink with him.

SIMEON

Sometimes it was hard to tease Simeon, but other times it was oh-so-easy that it'd be painfully hard not to mess with him a little. So when the little old granny cheerfully asked if you two were a married couple, you had to step in. You clutched his arm a little tighter, and before he could answer you spoke. "That's right, this my darling husband~"

Simeon sputtered a bit, looking at you mild disbelief to have agreed and even call him such an endearing term without hesitation. Simeon, trying not to cause a scene however, composed himself rather quickly and smiled at the elder woman.

"Mm, yes... I- I'm their husband..." He nods along. He's thankful she doesn't say much more, only commenting you two were adorable together before leaving. When she's far enough, you burst out into laughter. He frowns, arms crossed over his chest.

"Honestly..." He sighs, shaking his head at your antics. "You just love to mess with me, don't you?" You wipe away at tears from laughing so hard, glancing at him with a grin.

"Well it'll be true one day, so what's the harm in saying it now, right?" And if you thought his reaction earlier was cute, this one was much, much cuter- a shy smile he tries hard to hide. Simeon certainly hopes it'll be true one day.

SOLOMON

"Husband, oh my lovely husband~" You call whilst you know Solomon's in the middle of brewing a potion. You peaked your head into his lab, only to see him completely unbothered. He lifts his head only to meet your eyes for a few brief seconds before returning to his potion.

"Is there something you need, dear?" You frown, entering the room fully now.

"Not even a smile? No blush? Nothing?" He has a sly grin now as he shrugs.

"It's not I'm new to the title or anything." Solomon says simply, and this simple sentence causes your eye to twitch. "A great many, in fact, have called me such-" He narrowly dodges an attack, an alchemical book flying right for his head, before he realizes maybe he went a little too far with his own teasing.

"I'm never calling you that again, I swear-" Before you can leave he's abandoned his potion, his arms encircling you from behind.

"Don't be mad," He whispers, "You know that there isn't anybody I'd rather call me that than you." He presses kisses to the nape of your neck and downwards toward your shoulder. "And it's never sounded as sweet as it does than coming from your lips- like wine." He murmurs, "sweet and addicting." You roll your eyes, turning around to face him.

"Don't think your flowery words have gotten you out of trouble... completely." He grins, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I have plenty more where that came from, if you're interested?"

Biting back a laugh, you drag him out of his lab. "Hm, keep it up and you'll have that title back by the end of the day." And he was more than happy to provide flowery, honeyed words forever should it please you.

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om headcanons #om imagines #omswd x reader #omswd headcanons #omswd imagines #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader

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purifiedclitoris69 · 1 year ago

Text

Spiders Dance

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Supersoldier!Reader

HIII!! super rough and unedited but I wanted to get it out. I am new to writing smut so bare with me lol. I've had this in my drafts for a min so figured I get it out! Hope you enjoy ;)

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Nat, Top!Reader, Violence, IDK JUST PLEASE MDI

Summary: Natasha was a flirt, it was easy and entertaining, but she took a keen interest in flirting with you; Toying with you on a mission however, may not have been the best idea, or was it?

"Morning soldier," Nat greeted, causing you to blush immediately as you finished rinsing your fruits.

"Hey, Nat, want any fruit," you offered. The girl made you extremely flustered when it came to her comments, but besides that you had real friendship with the her

"No, thank you, but you could hand me a bowl," doing as she said you opened the cabinet above you handing Nat her request, "Thanks," she said taking the bowl letting your fingers touch and running her other hand across your broad shoulders as she passed you.

You flushed quickly, turning around clumsily your elbow hit the cabinet you had left open and your bowl of fruit drop straight to the floor.

Those in the kitchen laughed at the regular interaction as Wilson mumbled out a teasing, "nice one, y/l/n," as you rubbed the back of your neck and stared at the spilled fruit and empty Tupperware on the floor.

"yeah, yeah whatever," you grumbled out picking up your fruit as Wanda helped you giving you a pity smile and Nat smirked amused in the corner.

"You ever gonna give the girl a break," Clint asked walking up beside Nat as the two watched you wash your fruit again and get another bowl leaving the kitchen.

"Absolutely not," Nat said making her bowl of oatmeal, "the day's just begun, and we have training soon."

You had headed back to your room to save yourself any more embarrassment. You didn't mind the flirting by Nat, it boosted your ego and you were head over heals for the woman. She was perfect in your eyes, which was terrifying. She was brave, very skilled in her job, very stubborn, a little pridefull, but she was genuinely kind, understanding, and absolutely stunning. That's why she had so much power over you. You did everything she asked of you and practically dropped to your knees whenever she batted her eyelashes; everyone knew it.

You have yet to figure out her true intentions with her comments, but you knew they were too detailed and persistent for it not to mean anything. Whether it was just lust or whether she became the love of your life, it didn't matter to you yet, you just wanted her… and maybe a little payback for all the times she's embarrassed you. You spent a little time in your room finishing up mission reports but inevitably headed down to the main gym early. It was team training today which means more rosy cheeks and school girl butterflies are coming your way. You decided it’d be safe to work up a little sweat so you could at least attempt to excuse the blush on your face.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he approached the treadmill you were stretching next to, “you beat me, here."

“don’t be shocked rogers, I am suppose to be the better model,” you teased

“i think people prefer the original,” he returned, as he began his stretches as well.

The two of you ended up running for about 45 minutes; you reaching 33 miles, Steve 31.

“people can prefer you more, but numbers don’t lie,” you spoke as the two of you walked over to the waters with a light sweat.

Steve was ready to reply when the gym doors opened with Wilson, Bucky, and the Maximoff’s entering and greeting you.

You announced to all of them how you beat Steve and began a discussion about who’s the best super soldier as Nat and Clint entered.

Natasha’s eyes landed on you immediately and that glowing sheen of sweat. Nat practically went feral whenever she caught you training or even in the field, basically anytime your muscles were pumped and you were showing off your strength, which is why she loveddd training with you.

As the team did their separate warm-ups, they eventually made it to the big mat to run scenarios on Vision, who made a reasonable subject as he was made of the strongest metal on Earth. Each of them took their turns and contributing pointers.

“Hey soldier,” Nat greeted joining your side and looking up at you.

“Tasha,” you smiled warmly, “no distractions this session please,” you breathed jokingly

“what me? you do your own share of distracting,” she spoke alluringly.

You raised you eyebrows in question

she smirked touching your bicep lightly as you looked down at your tight black compression tee, “your training shirts don’t leave much to imagine.” Your jaw clenched hard enough to shatter your teeth as your face lit up once more leaving you unable to respond besides a small laugh, “don’t worry soldier,” she stood on her tippy toes as you leaned your ear towards her and she whispered, “I really don’t mind.”

“y/l/n,” Sam shouted, “why don’t you and Steve spar so we can decide who’s really the better model."

You forced a smile still caught up in what Nat said, “winner goes against Buck,” you proposed as Steve and Bucky immediately engaged in banter. You looked back to Nat who was already walking away with that dumb sway in her hips.

“Ahem,” Steve cleared his throat waiting in the middle.

“Let the soldier gawk for a min,” Bucky laughed as everyone was already giggling.

Walking to the middle of the mat your jaw clenched with the tension Nat at fueled, “Ready, kid,” Steve smiled extending his hand, you shook off your thoughts and accepted his hand.

You began with light jabs and blocks, both of them moving with an easy grace. Steve feinted to the left, then quickly punched you right in the face falling away from the punch as you gave a small laugh.

You responded with a quick, kick aimed at Steve's shin, eyes sparkling as you got back up quickly and made brief eye contact with Nat going straight back in for another punch; Steve dodged it impressively giving your hair a playful ruffle, receiving a feigned glare. You then get caught off guard once more by the red head over Steve’s shoulder this time getting tooo lost in her and allowing Steve to attempt a mock take down, you struggled briefly but slipped out of it twisting and landing an instinctual sharp kick to his ribs.

Steve dropped to his knees immediately and held a hand up clutching his rib as he gasped for air, his own being completely knocked out of him. he declared a dramatic surrender, “I concede,” he choked, “tad too hard for training kid.”

“shit, sorry,” you breathed sliding down to help him stand.

“all good just was not prepared for all that air to get knocked out,” he breathed out a laugh.

You and Sam let out a laugh as you both went to help him up.

"Yeah, if we're gonna spar can we get Romanoff to leave the room," Bucky joked receiving a smack from Wanda beside him.

"Shut it, Barnes," you said rolling your eyes, "you can just say you're scared." The team laughed at this but deep down you were a little sick of it. You could've genuinely hurt Steve.

The rest of training went pretty smoothly, you stayed as far away as you could from Nat and decided on sparring with Vision for safety.

On the way back to your room your mind was only on her. You spent the rest of the night thinking about her. You craved her in so many ways and you've never experienced the attention of such a beautiful woman, whether it was genuine or not it made you weak; weak in many ways that could lead to dangerous outcomes.

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, you were sat on your bed freshly out the shower, in only a sports bra and shorts.

"Yeah, just a minute!"

"Hey, y/n, it's Steve," he announced from the other side of the door, "I've got a mission for you, I need you in conference room 6 for a breifing."

"Got it!" you answered opening the door dressed to see him heading in that direction," What's the job," you asked at the door only to see Nat and Maria inside.

--------------------------------------

The mission was simple get in get out. HYDRA's latest threat: a hidden base in Siberia working on a new generation of enhanced using stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. technology. The mission involved only gathering intelligence, sabotaging the facility's operations, and ensuring the destruction of any cruel new serum, simple enough, hopefully.

Your mind wasn't completely in it, it was still caught up in your mission partner, and the lack of control you experienced around her. You knew this mission could be dangerous as well, HYDRA's experiments usually are, you, Bucky, and the twins are proof of that.

"Hey you alright," Nat pulled you out of your thoughts as she stood in front of you.

"Yeah," you gave a soft smile getting up and walking past her towards your locker.

"you sure, y/n," she walked towards you again, "it's okay if you're not, I know a mission like this can bring up things," she said trying to comfort you. You looked at her catching the genuineness in her eyes, stirring up those school girl butterflies.

"Yeah, I'm all good," you answered grabbing your usual knives and gadgets, "just a little nervous."

"I get it," she said going to her own locker beside you, "I wouldn't worry, we're in this together." You smiled at her cheesiness but deep down it did help lift you a little. This was the kindness you were talking about, she could be so understanding, and sweet; the great black widow, all sweet to you in private. Maybe it wasn't weakness she brought out of you.

"Destination, in ten minutes," FRIDAY announced.

"I'll land us," you said walking past Nat and into the cockpit.

The perimeter had already been infiltrated by another SHIELD unit, and a map of the facilities layout was processed with key points of interest highlighted. Natasha and you made your way up to the roof so she could access the security measures.

"Watch it," you pulled Nat back by the arm nodding down to a pressure alarm, "don't be so distracted," you commented off handedly.

"excuse me," she scoffed, "let's not talk about what happened in training today," she teased.

Ouch. You dropped her arm,rolled your eyes and looked away shameful…stubborn and prideful, "just cut the alarms already," you whispered. Natasha smirked going to the panel and connecting a small screen (another SHIELD you don't really know about), she's able to disable the security systems and time your guys entry perfectly.

"Okay check comms," Nat said quietly, checking the comms this is where the two of you split up. Natasha is to the control room to download and wipe the data, while you make it down to the labs to destroy the serum and plant the bombs.

"How's it going," you check in less than 2 minutes later. You've always gotten anxious on missions with the team, fearing any mistakes, fearing losing control; Hydra taking you again. With Nat it was ten times worse.

"Don't worry bout me, soldier," she laughed softly with a teasing tone, "focus on your mission, we'll be out soon."

"Yes, ma'am," you anxiously laughed, Nat on the other end flushing at the title.

In the control room Natasha watched the data download with only thoughts of you, it was getting bad. The flirting had started because of a physical attraction to you, your frame, your style, then it was your humor, your kindness, your awkward laugh, your belly laugh, that stupid smile, everything. Nat's daydreaming was cut off by rushed footsteps in the hall. Looking at the camera she had set up at the door she saw a squad of Hydra agents marching towards the room.

"Shit," she mumbled," Y/n, we have a -."

"Are you okay," you cut her off.

"Just get done fast, I have a squad advancing on me" she stated.

"I'm all done here, I'm--," you were cut off by the door to the labs being kicked down and flying across the room.

"What was that, are you okay," Nat asked as she finished up her task and deleting the files.

"Made contact with the enhanced," you said getting into a fighting position, as alarms began to sound.

"It'll be okay," Nat said, "we'll meet at the emergency randevu."

The enhanced made eye contact with you moving mechanically towards you like a brute, "Let's see which model's better now," you mumbled walking towards the danger.

The Prototype charged first, moving with surprising speed for its size. You dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow that dented the metal floor. You countered with a swift punch to the Prototype's ribs, but it barely flinched, retaliating with a backhand that sent you sprawling. The two super-soldiers exchanged a flurry of blows, each strike resonating with power, but the Prototype’s resilience and raw power were relentless. It landed a solid punch to your side, sending you crashing into a lab table. Shattered glass and spilled chemicals hissed around you as you struggled to your feet.

Why the fuck was the model so strong. The Prototype loomed over you, ready to deliver a finishing blow. Summoning all your strength, You caught the descending fist in your own, muscles straining against the force. With a roar, you twisted the Prototype's arm, using its momentum to flip it over your shoulder and into a bank of computers. The impact shattered the screens and sent sparks flying as you pulled out a knife and stabbed the prototype only feeling it cut into metal. This thing wasn't a person anymore.

The Prototype snarled, grabbing your arm and pulling you into a headbutt. Stars exploded in your vision, but you fought through the pain, kicking the Prototype’s knee again, this time hearing a satisfying crunch. Breathing heavily, you didn’t let up. You charged at the downed Prototype, delivering a series of rapid punches to its torso and face.

The Prototype faltered, its movements becoming more erratic. You saw your opening, grabbed a heavy metal rod from the debris and swung it with all you might, connecting with the side of the Prototype's head. The force of the blow sent it crashing to the ground, where it laid, unconscious.

Standing admist the wreckage trying to catch your breath, you heard an "Ahem," making you jump.

"Shit," You breathed looking at Nat in the door way, "you said meet at the randevu point" you stated.

"sorry," she smiled walking over to you and cupping your face scanning you for any damage, only to see a cut lip and you clutching your rib "looking good soldier," she teased as she scanned back up to your face catching you staring, straight back at her and glancing down to her lips, you immediately flushed, backing away.

The roof further collapsed behind you, “we have to go, I've already planted the bombs” you said grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the exit. Making it towards the facilities garage waves of Hydra operatives began to emerge.

"Shit," Nat mumbled pulling you guys back behind a wall and coming face to face, smiling at the proximity.

"Stop it," you said stepping back, "you can't keep distracting me like this."

"I don't know what your talking about," Nat smirked teasing as Hydra agents were frantically looking all around for you.

"I'm not doing this here," you stated firmly, "what do you even get out of it,” you question furthered almost exhausted. Nat pitied you in this moment, she hadn’t realized how mad she was driving you, her face softened.

"They're over here," your head's both shot to down the halls were the Hydra operatives began rushing in.

"let’s go," Natasha said grabbing your hand and booked it the other way.

Making it to the garage and pushing a crate in front of the door, Natasha had time to hijack a Hydra truck right before the doors flew open, "GO!" you shouted slamming the driver side shut and kicking a hydra agent across the room.

"Wait!" Nat shouted trying to open the door again as you pushed it shut once more.

"Just go! I'll meet you at the jet," you yelled taking out another knife.

Natasha forced herself to slam on the gas leaving you to hold off the agents. With them being unenhanced hydra cockroaches it wasn't too bad they’re was just so many of them, it’d been awhile since you’ve seen this many agents in one place. As you were throwing them and slamming them to the floor, the bombs you had planted went off in the lab went off, the building shook and flames set. The explosion allowed three agents the time to make off on motorcycles straight in Nat’s directions.

“No,” you muttered under your breath, hurling one last agent to the ground, as more of the building began to collapse, you launched into a full sprint across the Siberian snow. Your breath crystallized in the frigid air as you dodged through the trees, eyes locked on motorcycles speeding ahead. Spotting a fallen log, you seized the opportunity, using it as a makeshift ramp to propel yourself through the air. You crashed into one of the riders, sending him tumbling into the snow and commandeering his bike in one fluid motion.

Accelerating hard, you leaned low over the handlebars, feeling the icy wind whip against your face. The roar of the engine drowned out the chaos behind you as you closed in on the next target. With a quick flick of your wrist, you deployed a zip-line hook from your gauntlet, the steel cable slicing through the air and embedding itself in the frame of the bike ahead.

You toggled the slack, your muscles coiling with anticipation. At just the right moment, you yanked hard, the sudden tension in the line allowed you to throw the motorcycle and its rider careening off course. They collided with the other bike in a spectacular crash, the two vehicles intertwining and skidding across the snow in a shower of sparks and shrapnel.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the base in the distance, its structure collapsing floor by floor in a series of detonations. The ground trembled beneath you, the sound of destruction echoing in the frozen wilderness. You didn't slow down. There was no time to celebrate. You didn’t know if they were going to follow or not and you had to get Nat out of there.

Unbeknownst to you Natasha had witnessed the whole thing and was absolutely craving you at this point. She knew she needed you. She arrived at the Quinn jet shortly before you, jumping out the car, and immediately going to check on you.

“Are you okay,” she asked urgently grabbing your shoulders and trying to scan for any injuries before you gently pushed her hands off of you

“Let’s just get in the air,” you spoke grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the jet. You walked straight to the pilot seat and got you guys in the air. Setting it on auto pilot, Nat could sense the frustration radiating off of you. You walked right past her and into the medical area.

“Do you need any help?” She asked, as you turned your back to her and took of your mission gear leaving you in a white beater.

“No, I’m just bruised,” you said flatly as blood bled through your shirt revealing a long gash as well, “shit,” you mumbled.

“that’s not just a bruise,” she joked trying to lighten your mood

“i can see that can you just give me some space,” you snapped at her.

“okay, what’s the problem,” Nat asked walking up to you with a purpose and pulling your shoulder to make you face her

“just back off,” you said shrugging her hand off you and walking past her. You took your beater off completely and walked towards the bandages.

“it’s gonna need sti..”

“it’s not,” you cut her off, “i heal fast remember,” you opened up the sterile wipes cleaning the wound and flushing it with one of the sterile saline solutions. You gritted your teeth with pain from the wound and felt her eyes bore into your every move; it made you nervous. You reached for sterile pads to quickly knocking over a trey and hissing in pain.

“Sit down,” she said sternly. Rolling your eyes you did what was told, sitting down you raised your arm up allowing her access to pat dry the wound with sterile pads and get fresh bandages. She watched your abs flex and adjust with every move, every breath. You watched closely what her hands were doing avoiding looking at her face, “there,” she smoothed the bandage over letting out a breath.

“thanks,” you mumbled walking toward your locker for a loose jacket.

“y/n,” she called out softly walking up to you as you ignored her, "can you stop being so childish."

"Me? Childish?" you scoffed at her and rolled your eyes, "you're the one who makes all these slutty comments and feels me up at every opportunity."

"Are you serious," her volume go louder, "your upset over me flirting with you."

"Natasha, we were on a mission, a dangerous one," you shouted, "and you still, took every chance you got. I mean seriously are you in heat or something!?"

Her face flushed, "wow I didn't know your ego could get this big, I'll give you credit," she scoffed

“this isn’t an ego thing, it’s obvious you want me to fuck you, you don’t have to deny it, dont even try to,” you seethed stepping forward with practically every word, “i don’t give a fuck about you constantly flirting with me like the slut you are, no matter how much I embarrass myself, I really don’t fucking care, because I know you..you really just can’t help it” your voice dropped back to a civil level still carried with a stern sense of frustration, “I am upset because your distractions today could’ve genuinely cost us,” you stood up straight, “cost me.”

You were staring down right at her, your breaths brushed one another’s face, “what,” she whispered, “cost you what,” Nat pushed wanting to hear you say it.

“you know what,” you whispered back looking to her lips and wetting your own.

“say it, y/n” she stared at your own lips.

“cost me you Nat,” you confirmed, your gaze going back to her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Nat whispered looking up at you. You broke the gaze dropping your head and closing your eyes taking a deep breath in.

"Do you even like me," you asked barely audible.

"What?" Nat laughed shocked.

"can you just answer the question, Natasha," you said looking back into her eyes, “do you even like me, or I just something you desire.”

She could tell she was hurting you at this point, that you were genuinely upset. "Yeah," she mumbled dropping her gaze to her, hands she looked small, "I do."

You cupped her face, bring her gaze back to you, your eyes scanning over every little feature, "but you just want me to fuck you too," you whispered staring at her lips, "don't you."

"I do," she answered as your lips inched closer and closer.

"say it," you said over her lips, "tell me what you want, Natasha."

Her hands went to yours," I want.." she whispered getting closer to your lips, "I want you to fuck me, y/n" She looked up into your eyes, "please," A shit-eating grin came upon your face as one hand moved to loosely wrap around her neck and your lips finally slammed together. You roughly pushed Natasha against the other lockers causing her to let out the most wanton pornographic moan ever, fueling the pit in your stomach. Breaking apart, your hands dropped to her hips keeping her in her place as she chased after your lips for more," please, y/n, don't tease."

You laughed looking down at her already swollen lips and licking your own, "Please, Nat," you said getting closer to her lips again, "I'm going to do whatever I want after all this shit you've pulled." Your lips went to the column of her neck, resulting in more of her pretty sounds and her hands in your hair. Your hands dropped lower towards the back of her thighs giving a light pull, she immediately jumped to wrap them around you. Your lips moved back to hers, kissing passionately, you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, her own tongue pushing into your mouth as her hips moved in search of friction. You pulled the two of you away from the wall and carried her with ease to the medical bed not once breaking the kiss.

You placed her gently on her back, crawling over her, and moving your lips back to her neck. You bit marks into what was finally yours, as your hand moved to pull down the zipper on the front of her suit, "is this okay," you asked.

Nat smiled as her hips lifted towards you and her hands went further into your hair, "more than okay," she breathed, "I'm yours," she whispered across your lips, "and I want you to do whatever you want to me," she looked into your eyes pupils completely blown. Your lips locked in another passionate kiss, this time brief. Each touch caused shivers through Nat, her breath hitching in anticipation as you pulled the zipper down further and pulled the suit from her body, exposing her skin inch by inch.

"You're so beautiful," you murmured, sitting up and taking in her disheveled look as she lay in her bra and underwear.

"Take this off," she unzipped your jacket and pushed it off your shoulders. Hands scratching over your abs and back to your hair as she pulled you back into another kiss. Both breathing heavy and desperate your lips moved back to trail down Natasha's neck, leaving a path of more marks. When you finally reached Natasha's chest, your hand wrapped around to unclip her bra, your mouth immediately latching onto her nipple earning a gasp from Nat, "Y/n please," she whimpered, hands tugging in your hair to pull you closer. With a growl of need, you continued your descent, your mouth leaving a burning trail down Natasha's stomach. Kissing lightly above her underwear, you locked eye for further permission at which Nat nodded eagerly too, hooking your fingers in her underwear, Natasha's eyes fluttered shut, her hips lifting urging you to move faster.

Pulling her underwear off, Nat's core glistened with need. You couldn't help but smirk and kiss around the place she needed you most. You spread her legs wider, hands gripping her thighs firmly, as you littered love bits all over them, "Please, Y/n, I'm begging you," she moaned as you ghosted over her clit again.

The great Black Widow begging. You didn't waste another second, your mouth latched on to her core, tongue flicking out to taste what was finally yours. Natasha cried out, her back arching off the bed, causing you to moan into her core, and her to thrash more. You forced her hips down with more strength bound to leave bruises after. Your tongue moved expertly, alternating between teasing flicks and deep rough strokes. Natasha's moans gre louder, her hands pulling desperately at your hair. "Oh god, Y/n," she gasped, her body trembling.

Your grip tightened on Natasha's thighs, holding her in place further as you increased your pace. Tongue delving deeper, your mouth worked Natasha closer and closer to the edge. Natasha's moans turned into invoherent cries from the stimulation, her body writhing beneath you.

"Go ahead," you mumbled, " come for me, pretty girl," the vibrations sent Natasha over the edge as she screamed your name, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

You didn't stop, your mouth continuing to work Natasha through her orgasm until she was a trembling, breathless mess. Only then did you pull back, lips glistening with Natasha's arousal. You crawled back up her body, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

"your mine," you whispered against her lips, "as I am yours."

Natasha nodded weakly, giving a blissful smile, her eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Always," she answered, hand still tangled in your hair.

#enhanced!reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #bottom!nat #super soldier #black widow x y/n #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov

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icekkeugf · 4 months ago

Text

Make you feel it, Yang Jungwon (18+)

Pairing: Younger!Jungwon x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Jungwon confronts your dismissal of his unsaid yet obvious feelings and somehow, you let him lure you into your own bed.

Genre: Smut, Best friends to ???

Heads up: Unspecified age gap between Jungwon and the reader-no weird business though, Jungwon calls the reader “Noona”, the reader is drunk but still conscious of her decisions, softdom!Jungwon, making out, one tiny slap, unprotected sex (don't do that maybe), hair pulling, creampie, multiple rounds implied

Wordcount: 3,490 words

Author's note: I might have tried a little with this one. I have been wanting to contribute to the Enhablr community again. So, here's something for the Jungwon lovers :-) Hope you enjoy this, I would absolutely love feedback or constructive criticism. Happy reading ♥︎

He's in far too deep. Deep in love with you.

Maybe, not so much. He convinces himself, though he's not entirely sure.

It's insane, really, how the tick in his jaw only relaxes when you assure him that the man beside you means no harm—has no romantic inclination towards you, rightfully so, as your cousin. A casual arm of his slung around your shoulder that borders no thoughts of personal space, it took everything—and, I do mean everything—in Jungwon to not yank your cousin off of you without further clarification upon first sight.

However, he is momentarily distracted by how the fairy lights perched upon the front door glare lovingly with their yellowed tint at you, almost as if it was meant to luminate only your presence. He thinks the fairy lights are mocking him and his reluctance to admit his feelings, a scoff barely slipping past his tongue when the lights continue to taunt him with a ridiculously focused glint on your form as you hold up your half-conscious cousin from succumbing to sleep with a thud, right here, on your porch.

Jungwon is tense when you poke a finger at his bicep, a brow scrunched up with a tinge of amusement breaking through when you tease him for being just as much of a handful as your cousin. It's insulting, how you liken him to another man, as if he was just as incapable, but, he lets it pass for now, a sigh exiting his lips when his eyes drop down to your cheeks, flushed enough to tell him that you're under the influence as well.

Without as much as a word spoken to you, Jungwon leans over to pull at your cousin, scooping the man in one arm and pushing his limp body in, only letting him rest when he gets to the couch situated in the living room. The sound of unsteady shuffling and a hiccup from you has him turning around, the same bubbly feeling from earlier returning to play tricks at him. "Noona, are you okay?" It's finally time for him to open his mouth, eyes scrutinizing your every move and finally deeming you unfit when you stagger towards him, falling into his chest head first with a giggle. "Mhm, I am okay, not too drunk."

Liar.

He almost sighs again but stops when his hand unconsciously lifts to linger above your head. It drops as soon as he realises, instead finding the curve of your waist to hold you up. Jungwon steadies you in less than a second, allowing your lower half to lean completely onto his hip with a nudge. "Noona..." He calls, softly, a honeyed voice dripping into your ears almost too smoothly, it has you wondering if he always sounded this sweet, almost...desperate. You wonder if he gets like this only around you. "Hm?" You peek an eye at the man, lips twitching and breaking into a smile.

"Oh, what will you ever do without me?" He hoists you up, just a little so that you're balancing on your feet. The curl of one end of his lips has you biting yours. There he is, you think. "You're right, what would Noona ever do without you, Wonnie?" You mumble, lips parting enough to sip at the water he graciously offers, a hand still around your waist. It's intimate. You realise. Normally, you'd keep Jungwon at bay, boundaries drawn very clearly to verify that friendship is what you two have. Tonight, though, things are different. Your head feels heavy, bearing a separate weight of its own, and your feet feel light, as if it's not carrying the rest of your body. There's a fuzzy feeling in your chest and a lopsided glance at Jungwon only makes things worse.

When did he get so pretty? You wonder. No, he's always been pretty, you reason. Sparkly eyes that watch you carefully, a brow cocking up to decipher your behaviour and his plump, coral lips parting, providing you just a sliver of his tongue that darts to lick a sheen of saliva at his bottom lip. It's only then that you catch yourself midair, fingers gently hovering above Jungwon's cheeks.

Oh.

One step, two and then, finally, three. You back away, putting reasonable distance between you two, only to have worked in vain when Jungwon closes the distance. It's a sudden but welcome change when you feel yourself sobering up, the air around you two palpable, crackling with tension. "Did you ever consider me a man, Noona?" His question is quiet, it has you looking into his eyes in momentary confusion before your eyes flit away. You're caught, red-handed. "What does that mean? Of course, I do..." You mumble, feigning an aching head with your thumb and pointer finger working in tandem at your temple.

"Do you really?" He takes another impossible step closer to you. "Look at me, Noona." His words, coming out in an unfamiliar gravel, make your knees weak, and, suddenly, you're aware of being present with him as if he ties you to the reality you're in. You visibly hesitate, it ticks him off, though he chooses not to express it. You watch him quietly with pieces of your hair framing the peripheral of your vision. "I do, Jungwon." You assure him, but really, you wonder if you're convincing him when your fingers twiddle in front of you, scrunching your brows together.

He scoffs, tongue poking inside at his cheek. The audacity to lie, to consciously choose to deceive him even while you're borderline drunk—it upsets him as much as it angers him. Jungwon can't believe that you muster the strength to keep yourself in control in an inebriated state of mind. But, you notice it before he does, as always, that one vein in his temple protruding, as if warning you to tread lightly. You want to say something, anything, to ease him up, ask him where all of this is coming from. As if you don't know.

No, you really don't, you think. It's not like you watch Jungwon round the corner of your residence from the gap between your curtains, through the window, when he appears to be nervous about approaching your front door even after being your friend for four long years. It's not like you know just how much Jungwon loves Marvel but continues to geek about Studio Ghibli with you instead just because you like it better. It's not like you notice Jungwon chowing down on dry, undercooked ramen at 2 in the morning, with you, when really, he likes his noodles cooked perfectly with enough broth. It's not like you realise that Jungwon's university is a 30-minute detour from your office and yet, he insists on dropping you off every morning, citing the unsafety of public transport as the reason.

"Noona, you're really bad at this. This game you're playing," You exhale quietly, hoping it would ease the clogged up tension in your chest. He leans down, just enough to not hurt your neck from looking up at him for too long. His hand at your waist, previously anchoring you, now applies a tad bit of pressure, urging you to back up against the nearest wall. Dizzy eyes blink up at him deliberately but he refuses to let it crumble his resolve.

You feel it now, more intense than ever. Maybe it's the many drinks from earlier but your heartbeat increases, getting louder and reverberating in your eardrums. You can tell that Jungwon is barely managing to keep himself in check if the way his eyes narrow down at you and the way his grip on your waist gets cruel are anything to go by.

You've kept it hidden all these years. Locking your feelings away in that tiny part of your mind, shoving it down the back of your subconscious. It wasn't meant to come down to this, have you caged in between a wall and Jungwon in your living room. A finger interrupts you, grazing your chin with utmost affection, so softly that you'd think a rougher brush of his finger could cut you. Against your better judgement, you lean into his touch, Jungwon raises a brow at this. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

You abandon all reason, the logic behind your behaviour all these years fading into a carnal need that you kept under covers, prompting your fingers to hook onto the hem of his tee. Grabbing at it, you hope he gets the message. Not really, no, you assume when his brow cocks further up, almost criticising you, telling you you’re making a fool of yourself. As if you've been burned, you retract your fingers quickly but Jungwon doesn't appreciate this.

“Who said you could do that?” He pulls you flush against him, “Asking for something and then taking it back. You're really stupid when it comes to men, Noona.” His words are laced with faux disapproval. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you. “This won't do.” You're about to ask what he means by that but he's already pulling at your wrist, making a beeline towards your bedroom.

You want to say you're surprised when he slams your door, lining you up by the door frame when you're both inside. You are surprised, though, when Jungwon presses himself up against you, hot breath fanning across your face and lips converging into one before you can process anything. You let out a muffled gasp, eliciting a groan from him, thighs pressing together to ward off potential arousal.

Jungwon dislikes the action, a knee of his prying some space between your thighs, lifting up and weighing at your centre to make its presence really known. You're oblivious to all this though, mind reeling at the sharp nip of his teeth at your lower lip, a warning, if you like.

You comply, allowing him to take you as he pleases, it's the least you can do after all you've put him through, right? Licking his way into your mouth, his hands wander down your body, finally settling at your hips, the pads of his fingers making indents on your skin. You don't know what it is, but something tugs at your heart. All this while, you might as well have made this up in your mind. But, Jungwon's fingers, unlike his lips that are relentless and making a statement on yours, are gentle, it reminds you that he is here, holding you, making you his.

Jungwon, taunting you, pulls away, not without his thumb wiping at your lips absentmindedly. You tasted just like he imagined, if not better, the dried lip tint sweet on you, smudging onto his as well. Glossy with his spit coating your lips, your teeth pull at it, a quiet whine full of complaints directed at a teasing Jungwon. “What? Now you're begging for a taste of me. Isn’t that right, Noona?” He tilts his head to the side, pushing you to do something, if not say something.

With a grab of his collar, you pull him towards you quickly, it amuses him. “Shut up and kiss me.” You manage to speak for the first time in a while, “Whatever you say, Noona.” Jungwon obliges with your demands, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Assuming the lead, your tongue prods at his teeth which takes him by surprise, allowing you to walk him backwards till his calves hit one of the bedposts.

“Aren't you eager?” He speaks into your mouth, not allowing you leverage over him by flipping your positions so that now you're the one closest to the bed. “That's unfair, Noona. After you've played with me so much…” His thumb caresses your cheek as if preparing you for something. “You don't get to enjoy this so easily.” The building high quickly wears off, his words serving as a caution.

Jungwon looks down at you and with a nudge of his hand to your shoulder, you lose balance, falling onto the mattress with a bounce. The boy settles onto the bed with a knee guarding both thighs at the sides. Finding your cheek once again, he tips your chin upwards, eyes locking with a breathy gasp from you. “Jungwon…” You trap him with a circle of your thighs around his hips, calves hanging loosely off the bed.

He humours you, just this once, he tells himself. “What is it?” He pries, thumbing onto your jaw, pressing you to answer him. “Please.” You state, searching his eyes. Jungwon barely allows you a glimpse of his toothy grin before he's maneuvering you onto your knees. You understand just what he wants, as you always do when it comes to him, turning around to pucker your behind, arching your back by the slightest to tempt him, as if he's not already deep in the trenches knowing you're under him, so pliant and inviting.

Just for him.

The thoughts have his sweatpants constricting around the visible tent between his legs. Jungwon lets pass a throaty groan at this, fighting the urge to rut himself onto the edge of your bed. No, he can't have that, not when he already has you exactly where he needs you. He doesn't think twice before asking you to strip, shimmying his clothes off and grabbing a handful of your butt to grope at while you clumsily tug at your tank top.

With a needy whine, you push your ass towards him, throwing him a desperate look over your shoulder just for you to get needier at the sight of his bare torso. You can't make out much of him, your room bathed in the dark and only a singular ray of lantern by your porch penetrating your window. “Fuck, Noona.” There's a sharp sound of something smacking and it takes you a moment to register that Jungwon's palm had just struck your ass. You don't feel the pain, if anything, the impact has you doubling forward, panties possibly soaked through with a gush of your pathetic arousal pouring out.

“Look at you, sprawled out for me like this. Didn't think my pretty little Noona was into this. You're sick. Pathetic even. ” As if to make a point, he runs a knowing finger down the middle of your panties. The fabric does anything but cover you, he notes, moulding itself to your pussy by the way it's damp. The sticky feeling it provides rips a moan out of you and Jungwon decides that he's had enough. He would quite literally pass out if he didn't bury himself into your heat within the next minute.

Pushing the slit of your panties to the side, he eases a thumb into the rim of your hole, toying there for a second before rubbing languid circles at your bud. He wanted to make you work for it, he did but his cock is twitching, crying for him to envelope it in your cunt. He promises himself to teach you a lesson next time, lining his bulbous tip up against your hole. The view is nothing like he had imagined every other night, fucking his fist at the thought of having you to him. Your pussy is divine, he concludes, drops of your juices beading at your lips, it's like you already creamed yourself once before he could get you to do so himself.

You're about to complain, eyes misty and curious about the hold-up but it's like Jungwon reads your mind, pushing at his boxers so that the fat head of his cock finally tastes you squeezing around him. It's painful how you clench around just his tip, he has to grit his teeth, kneading the flesh of your ass lovingly though he itches to deliver another smack to it, “Breathe, baby, I got you.” He mutters, bullying his way into you when you seemingly adjust to him. You cry with a start when he fastens your wrists behind you, holding it in one hand while the other deceives you for a second when it hovers above your hair softly. It's the next second when the same hand finds itself fisting around your strands and pulling you up.

Flush against him now, his cock lodges itself completely into you, filling you in a way you've never been before. “Oh, fuck—too full…” You manage to sputter, chest heaving although he's doing all the work. The angle he's nestled into you is mind-numbing, it has you dumb and thinking of nothing but the feel of his cock, your insides committing every trace of his vein to memory. You just know you'll be recollecting this for a while when you need that extra push when stressed. “Yeah? Full of me, aren't you? Does it feel good, baby?” He must be insane, you think, to ask you something so obvious.

“So, so good. Jungwon!” You attempt to say more but you can't think of any way to put how he's making you feel in words. You repeat the same with a shriek and it has him biting back a laugh, “So fucking dumb. Dumb on my cock, aren't you, Noona?” The hand in your hair makes its presence aware with another tug, positioning your shoulder to his lips and Jungwon takes the opportunity to sink his canines into your skin. His cock is merciless, ramming into you with powerful, rhythmic thrusts that force you forward every time he sinks into your heat again.

There's a familiar feeling creeping up your back, the muscles in your lower abdomen flexing and relaxing once in a while and your thighs part further, as if welcoming more of him into you. One particularly sharp rut of his hips has his pelvis slamming into yours and his cock seems to find a different angle to fuck itself into, massaging the one spot that has your toes curling and lips parting in a silent scream. “Is that it, Noona? Fuck, you're clenching around me so good. Fucking hell—” He pauses momentarily, lifting a thigh of yours higher around his hips to gain better access to you.

Resuming his ministrations, Jungwon assumes a bruising grip on your wrists. “That's it, Wonnie, just there! Gonna come!” You warn, pushing yourself onto his length, rolling your hips. “Let go, baby, just like that, fuck yourself onto me.” It isn't long before you're spasming around him, eyes shutting tightly and walls clamping around his cock as you ride your high. Jungwon is teetering on the edge of his orgasm too, muffling himself into your neck with a bite of your flesh as he fucks his release into your inviting hole. He meant to pull out, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of coming in your tight pussy. He's not in the least apologetic, continuing to sheathe himself in your shared cum with slow, controlled thrusts.

You can't help but wince, sensitivity quickly making itself apparent when he shows no signs of stopping. Jungwon shushes you though, basking in the glow of his well-deserved orgasm. He reluctantly pulls out, holding you up just in case. “Wait a minute, Noona.” He speaks quietly, letting you find your balance while he retrieves a washcloth damp enough to clean you up. His touch is gentle, reassuring you at this moment, that you're in this together, it wasn't a lapse in judgement. At least not for him.

“Wonnie?” Your palm cups his jaw, moving to face him while he kneels by the bed. “Did you really mean what you said and what you did?” Jungwon is quick to nod his head and you surge forward to embrace him with a composed poise. “I didn't mean to do it this way. Though, I don't regret this in the slightest—it just wasn't the best way to bring up the way I was feeling. I think I was sick of you treating me like I was just like other men.” He pauses, “I really like you, Noona.” He finally confesses.

You don't know what this means for you two, you don't know how you feel about this just yet. But, you do know that you're willing to figure it out, with him, preferably. So, you tell him so, pulling him under the covers when he nods and his lips twitch into a grin. “You still have to make up for all you put me through.” Jungwon reminds you, brows quirking up teasingly. “Will this suffice?” You ask, mischievous hands feeling him down and finding his half-softened cock, surprising him with a jolt. “Oh, you're a fast learner.” He coos, shuffling you around until you're securely on top of him.

You find yourself tangled in sheets with Jungwon all night, showing him, in multiple ways and positions, just how much you're willing to do to make it up to him. What you fail to remember is your now not so passed out cousin in the living room, who has to bear the torture of crashing at your place.

#jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #yang jungwon

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athenas-only-daughter · 1 month ago

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Haunting the Canvas - The Clea Post

spurred on by conversations I've been having with @linka-from-captain-planet, I'm collecting the info we've been able to gather about Clea here, under a read-more for spoilers, because if you run around act 3, there's actually QUITE a bit to glean about her.

This is gonna be a living/edited post as we find more info! Pls let me know if you guys see anything that's missing, find out new info, etc!

Truly as soon as you get to act three, you can't go three feet without bumping into a sidequest that has to do with Clea in some regard. She is HAUNTING the canvas almost as much as real!Verso and she's not even dead.

First and foremost, The Fading Woman is often Clea! Sometimes it's Aline (if she's sad, it's Aline) but especially in act 3 it's Clea. Particularly at the Endless Tower location. If you want to glean more about Clea, I recommend talking to the fading woman when you see her, particularly as Maelle.

Clea is the eldest sibling, this is made plain during Maelle's companion quest at The Reacher

Also in this quest Maelle implies that Clea is Renoir's favorite. Verso disputes this, saying Alicia was his favorite child. However, earlier in a conversation with Lune, Verso says Clea was Renoir's favorite. Seems like there's some nuance here!

Clea has her own axon! If you were like 'hey Renoir made Axons for the rest of his family, where is Clea's?' it's easy to miss but it's the Axon in old Lumiere that's already dead (more on this later)

Clea's Axon seems to be called 'The Hauler' and is carrying part of the world on its back (incredibly on brand Eldest Daughter Shit)

Aline also painted a version of Clea - she is no longer with the painted family and is now trapped in the Flying Manor location by Clea herself.

Clea seemed to not like the portrait Aline painted of her, or at the very least resents her parents trying to portray her in the canvas full stop (she also dislikes the Axon). This led to Clea painting over her mother's version of her and leaving her in the painting to continue her work of making Nevrons.

We know Clea is making the Nevrons thanks to dialogue in the Fountain and Flying Manor quests, as well as Clea's dialogue to Maelle before act 3 AND dialogue with the Fading Woman in the Endless Tower.

The only Nevrons that are NOT Clea's are the ones on the Axon Islands, those are Renoir's.

On that note, why is Clea making Nevrons? she's using them to stop the chroma from returning to her mother when the painted citizens die, hoping to speed along her parents' conflict and then end this once and for all.

Also on this note! Clea is also making the painted WHITE Nevrons that we see and help. I'm still not 100% sure why, but we find this out by talking to Blanche during the Fountain quest, who has the special task of killing all of Clea's failed Nevrons, because god forbid someone see she made a mistake (perfectionist eldest daughter Clea Dessendre I am studying you sooo closely)

Painted Clea had a romance! with a painted lumiere citizen named Simon (he can be fought by reaching the Abyss in Renoir's Drafts)

Real!Clea apparently shared none of her painted counterpart's affections because she tricked him by pretending to be painted!Clea and gave him enough power so he could kill her Axon (also through trickery).

Has entered the painting several times since the start of Aline and Renoir's conflict. Notably to make Nevrons, capture her painted counterpart, trick Simon, but also she met Expedition 00 at the barrier and told them everything. Then tried to kill them when they wouldn’t leave. She also came in and tried to recruit Verso at one point.

Her final time in the canvas, that we know of, was when she came in 16 years ago and told him to watch over Alicia/Maelle.

Clea thinks its safer for Alicia to be in the Canvas, away from the war.

On that note, there's a war! Clea is apparently fighting a war against the Writers near singlehandedly. Renoir calls this her 'solitary war' and Alicia/Maelle says she 'took Verso's death personally', so it seems she's seeking revenge.

Clea is noted by both Alicia/Maelle and painted!Verso as being the most talented painter of the three of them

Also plays the harp!

There's a record you can unlock play at camp called "Clea! Don't Pull Your Sister's Hair!"

Clea seems to have stopped playing in the Canvas well before either of her siblings - Francois is mentioned as missing her for over a hundred years, well before the fracture.

Francois and Clea used to sing together!

Much of the original canvas was made my Verso and Clea together. In the Endless Tower, the Fading Woman (Clea, here) says that she "spent far more time" in the canvas than Alicia and that she painted "half this world with Verso"

Despite this, Clea does not share her family's same fixation on it and seems to dislike their meddling with it - her mother's painted creations, her father's axons, etc. She does not consider the painting 'real', but "was perfectly fine to leave Maman here to work on her sorrows", and says it's Alicia's choice if she stays. She seems equally dismissive of her parents, saying that Aline "doesn't want help" and Renoir is "wasting time" when she needs his help.

There's a Fading Boy and another fragment of Clea in Fading Leaves. The Clea fragment has been erasing things from the canvas, 'out of respect for him, his creations and the things they made together'. We can infer she's talking about Verso here. The Fading Boy (remember, a fragment of Verso's soul) seems to be disheartened by this.

ETA: In the Painting Workshop, the Fading Boy talks to you about both real!Clea and Painted!Clea. It's hard to parse which is which but it seems like Real!Clea might have made the Lampmaster specifically to spook Verso, maybe when they were kids? The Fading Boy implies that he told Clea he was scared of the dark and she made him the world's most haunted nightlight (sisters amiright?)

Additionally, he mentions 'jealousy' so it seems Clea was, at times, jealous of Verso. This tracks with her being the most talented painter of the 3 but overlooked for her brother and also with something the Fading Boy says at the start of the flying manor that seems to be about Clea (not sure whether real or painted): "Everything is always about her. Her paintings, her sculptures. Everything has to be perfect, but perfect I have never been"

ETA: In Old Lumiere, the Fading Man (Renoir) seems to have some interesting things to say about 'she who painted nevrons' aka Clea: "She wasn't scared of death itself. / She was sad because there are more works of art than she'd ever be able to see in her lifetime. / So many fables from around the world that she'd never be able to collect. To bring her life in her workshop. / All the beauty in the world she'd never get to experience. That saddened her."

He also says that Clea "loved to challenge him" and that they were "the most alike"

ETA: At the Forgotten Battlefield, there's a Clea Fading Woman who asks Maelle if she can help and when Maelle is confused, says "I guess not. Pity. I'd hoped to return to more important matters. But instead I must occupy my time with... this." She then tells Maelle to "Go and play with your friends. I'll handle this."

#clea #clea dessendre #clair obscur: expedition 33 #clair obscur spoilers #clair obscur

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purplereina11 · 4 months ago

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The Perfect Shot Series You get a second date with Alexia

Word count: 6K

Your thoughts had been solely dancing around that blind date with Alexia mere days ago, the spark of her laughter still echoing in your mind , your heart raced at the thought of the kiss. You could still feel the warmth of her lips lingering on your own, a very sweet reminder of the evening together. Your nerves peaked at the thought of seeing her again, you doubted you would ever see her again, neither of you offered up contact information.

Carla hadn’t asked for any details about your night nor had you decided to offer any up to her, it made you wonder if Alexia had told her all about it and that’s why she didn’t ask you. You found yourself outside the Barcelona training ground in your car waiting to pick Carla up, your stomach was doing back flips. You weren’t sure whether it was nerves or excitement at the prospect of catching a glimpse of Alexia.

You were sat looking out the opposite window waiting for Carla to appear when a slow, a soft rhythmic tap on your drivers window made you jump you turned and there stood Alexia a little smile on her lips. You put your window down, “Hola” she said, it took everything in you to not bite your lip when both of her forearms rested on the roof above your window, “Stalking me?”

You expressed air from your nose in amusement, “I’m picking Carla up” Your eyes were bright as they looked up to Alexia at your window, your lips spread into a smile as she was holding eye contact.

Her lips matched yours which made your stomach flutter like you had a family of butterflies in there, “I had really great time Friday”

You turned your body to her, “Me to” you were hopeful she’d maybe suggest doing it again, however as her mouth opened the passenger door opened and a wave of disappointment washed over her face and body language.

“Hi, sorry the girls training ran over got out as soon as I could” Carla got into the car, as she turned to put her seat belt on, she froze seeing Alexia at the window, “Should i go?” She whispered making you laugh gently

“Go where exactly?” You asked eyeing her.

“I forgot my phone” she unbuckled herself, “I am so sorry, I won’t be two minutes” you reached over plucking the phone from her lap, she snatched it from you, “Not that one” the door flew open and closed again just as quickly.

As Carla hurried away, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving only you and Alexia in that moment, the air thick with unspoken words. You could feel the warmth radiating from her presence, her smile lingering like a sweet melody, echoing in the silence between you.

“Looks like it’s just us for a moment,” she said, her voice a soft murmur, laced with a hint of mischief. Her gaze was magnetic, drawing you in deeper, and for a heartbeat, it felt as if the universe had conspired to create this intimate bubble where time stood still. “I don’t mean to interrupt you,” she continued, her tone playful yet sincere, her forearms still resting elegantly on the roof of your car. “But maybe it’s a sign?”

“A sign?” you echoed, curiosity piqued, as you leaned slightly closer, entranced by the spark in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Carla said her friend was picking her up, Patri asked if it was the one who always does, tell me how you seem to be here a lot and today is the only day i’ve spotted you after our date Friday?” You stayed quiet unsure how to respond to that clearly rhetorical question, “It’s a sign that we should spend more time together.”

Your heart raced at the thought, a flutter of hope igniting in your chest. “I’d like that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the fragile magic of the moment.

Just then, Carla returned, her presence breaking the spell but not extinguishing the warmth that lingered between you and Alexia. As she settled back into the car, you stole a glance at Alexia, who flashed you a knowing smile, and in that fleeting exchange, a promise seemed to linger—a promise of more moments, more laughter, and perhaps even more magic. Carla was speaking obnoxiously loud on her phone, Alexia let a hand rest in the gap the window should have been so tantalising close for you to reach out and feel her touch again. “You free tomorrow?” She asked

You swallowed, she wanted to see you so soon, you had an argument with yourself should you be busy? Not be so accessible but then you questioned why you would play games when you quite obviously enjoyed spending time in each others company. “I’m at work til four”

Alexia looked past you ever so briefly as Carlas conversation seemed to of come to a complete stop but conveniently started up again soon as Alexia looked at her. Subtitly wasn’t Carlas strong suit. “Can you get to work if you don’t drive there?” You simply nodded, “Good, then don’t, i’ll pick you up” she gave you a little smile and without another word she walked away.

“What the fuck?” Carla exclaimed, you saw in your wing mirror Alexia turn back to look.

“Will you at least wait until i’ve shut my window!” You said as the window went up smiling seeing Alexia laugh to herself. “You’re so embarrassing sometimes” you spoke with a smile on your face watching Alexia.

“Spill! Now!” Carla looked over her shoulder to look at Alexia, then back to you as you pulled away.

You wanted to play coy you wanted to keep some information to yourself keep those moments between you and Alexia private. But the girl in you just had to talk about it, you exuded excitement you could not take the smile off your face, “We had a nice time”

“Oh my god” Carla laughed shaking her head looking out the window

“What?” You smiled, “What did you expect Carla? You’re the one that bloody set us up!”

Carla turned her head to you she watched you for a moment as you navigated through the city traffic to get to the beach for the afternoon. “I never imagined she’d want to see you again”

“Charming!” You laughed, “You're my friend you know that right?” You looked to Carla when it occurred to you, “What exactly were you trying then when you set us up?”

“I didn’t think either of you would actually say yes”

“I didn’t get much choice”

“No but she did and she seemed pretty keen to meet you” You blushed looking away as the car in-front you began moving again, Carla narrowed her eyes at you, “But i feel you already knew that” The smile you held was infectious to Carla who couldn’t stem her own as she watched you intently

“It was my eyes apparently” you picked your drink from its cup holder to wet your dry mouth, “She just had to see them in person”

“She said that?” Carla sat forward to get a better look at your face her mouth hung open, leaving you a giggling mess moving your eyes to her. “I knew Alexia was charming but fucking hell girls got rizz”

“Really?” You laughed, “Your saying rizz now?”

“I felt uncomfortable soon as i said it” You both laughed as you continued to drive, you were thankful Carla didn’t continue to question. You didn’t want to lie to your only friend in Spain but it was private. Whatever was happening, if Carla didn’t know her or have a hand in the meeting you wouldn’t have even told her you’d gone on a date.

You had a whole 24 hours to over think everything, what Alexia was going to do with you once she picked you up. Did she have a plan? Was she going to see what you wanted to do? Was she going to wing it? All these questions and emotions swirled around you the whole day at work, one longer than normal as it was media day, your first in charge. The players all said how much they enjoyed it, you’d thought of inventive ways for them to interact with each other for content that you’d post over the coming weeks.

You were at one point cry laughing when you were watching them do a TikTok trend so you were using the mirror in the locker room to sort your face out before Alexia was due to pick you up. You collected your work bag and you came out the exit bang on four o’clock and as she promised there was Alexia. You couldn’t help the smile as she was leaning back on the bonnet of her car waiting for you, she had yet to spot you as she was having a good ol’ look around at the facility. As you neared you caught her by surprise when you suddenly spoke into the relative quiet. “Scoping out the competition?”

Her hard expression softened as soon as her eyes landed on you, she put her hand out, “I’ll take your bag, put it in the back” You dutifully handed over the bag, she gave you a smile moving around to the back of the car, you eyed the expensive looking car before you. A cupra. Nice. Your eyes moved back to her when she opened the passenger side door. “Your carriage awaits” You sucked your teeth as you smiled at her corniness.

“Where are you taking me exactly?” You asked slotting into the space between the car and her holding the door open

"Somewhere special," Alexia says with a mischievous glint in her eye, makes your heart skip a beat "But that's for me to know and you to find out."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her mysterious demeanour. As you slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool against your skin, you catch a whiff of her perfume – a light, floral scent that makes your heart skip a beat.

Alexia closes your door and walks around to the driver's side, hoping into the driver's side with a graceful flourish, her perfume wafting through the car. She settles in beside you, her presence filling the car with an electric energy.

"Ready for an adventure?" she asks, turning the key in the ignition. The engine purrs to life, her fingers drumming excitedly on the steering wheel.

You nod, a mix of anticipation and curiosity bubbling in your chest. "As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, your voice a mix of excitement and nervous energy, unable to keep the smile from your face.

Alexia flashes you a radiant smile her eyes sparkling that makes your heart race. She pulls out into traffic, weaving through the narrow streets of Barcelona with practiced ease. The city of Barcelona unfolds before you as Alexia navigates through the bustling streets. The city is alive with energy around you, a vibrant tapestry of sights and sounds. Street vendors hawk their wares, the aroma of fresh paella wafting through the air. Tourists snapping photos, locals chatting animatedly at sidewalk cafes, the aroma of fresh Paella being over taken by bread and coffee. The warm late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the colourful buildings, and you find yourself stealing glances at her profile as she drives.

You lean back in your seat, drinking in the scenery. "So, no hints at all about where we're going?"

Alexia laughs, a melodious sound that fills the car. "Patience, mi amor. Good things come to those who wait." As you drive, Alexia points out landmarks, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "Look, there's La Sagrada Família!" she exclaims, gesturing towards the towering spires of Gaudí's masterpiece.

You're captivated by her excitement, drinking in every word and gesture and little tidbit of information she offered you about the city she clearly knew extremely well. The way her hand moves as she speaks, the curve of her smile, the warmth in her eyes - it all makes your heart swell.

As you drive, the bustling city center gives way to winding coastal roads. The Mediterranean stretches out before you, a dazzling expanse of blue.

"Ah, we're heading to the coast?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Alexia's eyes twinkle with mischief. "Maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to wait and see."

The car winds its way along the coastal road, the sea breeze ruffling your hair through the open window. Alexia watches you with a smile snapping pictures of the sea the passion visible to see of your love of capturing landscapes. You breathe in deeply, savouring the salty air and the faint scent of Alexia's perfume. The tension of the city melts away, replaced by a sense of peaceful anticipation.

You laughed as Alexia filled the comfortable silence with the radio both happily singing along, Alexia showing her goofy side by doing what only could be described as the boy band hand air grab as she sung, badly, along to a power ballad. You of course joined in, it was no secret you were a Whitney Houston fan, it was a secret you could half kind of sing, Alexia’s eye brows raising in shock. “You sing good” You pulled a face. You hadn’t realised you’d driven nearly half an hour with Alexia by the time the car was slowing from the faster roads you took the time to look around.

“Where are we?”

“Mollet del Vallès,” Alexia spoke softer turning the radio down to barely a whisper, “I grew up here” your head turned to Alexia, “When we were having drinks, you asked me what was one of my passions I had outside of football”

You nodded, “I remember”

“And I said I didn’t know, well-i wanted to show you instead of tell you about it” You smiled ever so softly, you looked as she parked her car.

“You’re passionate about a pizzeria?” You smiled seeing the quant little building before you, you looked back to Alexia when you heard her door pop.

“No. Wait here, I’ll be back, I’m picking up dinner” You nodded sitting back against the cool leather and watched her be greeted with great warmth when she got inside the smallest pizza shop you’d ever seen. Alexia was all smiles as she held a conversation having fits of laugher, your stomach churned as it always did when her eyes landed on you. You watched the older gentlemen look in your direction, he smiled and waved at you, you returned the gesture giggling to yourself at how sweet he appeared even from here.

You watched as Alexia came back to the car, she handed you the pizzas she had collected she’d pre-ordered and paid for to be ready for when she got here, put her seatbelt back on and reversed out her parking space and headed off down the road. She pointed out all the places she thought would have been of interest to you about her, her primary school, her high school, the school her sister teaches in. You were really starting to build a picture of the early life of Alexia and you were loving every second, you pictured little Alexia on the children’s park you drove past. Running, playing living so carefree.

You leant forward in your seat as you came upon a white building, curiosity peaked 11 Foundation: Alexia Putellas Academy, Alexia parked the car plucked keys from her pocket and flicked her head, “Come on” You got yourself and the pizzas safely out the car your brows furrowing at the cooler Alexia got from the boot.

“What’s in there?”

“Secret” she smiled and began walking, “Come on Elsa, keep up” You shook your head at the glint she had in her eye when she checked you were indeed actually following. “You first” she held the door open you dipping under her arm to go through the gate taking tentative steps forward to what was essentially two football pitches side by side, it wasn’t all dissimilar to Badalondas training ground. Alexia leads you out into the middle of the pitch and brings out a blanket you hadn’t even seen her carrying, "I thought we could have a little picnic," she says, her voice soft and inviting. "And I could tell you about this place maybe do a little tour"

Together, you spread the blanket on the grass. Alexia begins unpacking the cooler, revealing an array of local delicacies - jamón ibérico, manchego cheese, olives, and a bottle of Estrella, you placed the two pizza boxes on the blanket as she made you smile when she popped you open a beer. She remembered. “Pizza and beer” You smiled as she clinked her alcohol free one into yours. “So what is this place then? I can obviously see its an academy”

You could see the passion coming from Alexia as she spoke of her project, you had many questions she was more than happy to answer-she spoke of the future and what she hoped to achieve with it and where she wanted to take it and it was inspiring. You looked around as she spoke taking in every little inch of her passion project she was gracious to share with you in person.

“Do you manage to get here much?”

"Not as much as I'd like," Alexia admits with a rueful smile, her eyes still sparkling with enthusiasm. "Between work and, well, life, I usually only make it here on a coupe of weekends a month if that."

You nod, understanding the struggle of balancing passion projects with daily responsibilities. As you begin tucking into the food before you, the early evening sun streams through the large space, casting a warm glow on the occasion.

"But," she continues, her voice picking up, "every moment I spend here feels like pure magic. It's like time stops, you know?"

You do know. You can feel it now - that sense of being suspended in a perfect bubble of creativity and possibility. Your fingers itch to pick up a paintbrush, to add your own mark to this inspiring space. You pointed, “Is that like a mural?” You asked seeing one wall full of graffiti, “Do the girls do that?”

Alexia nodded, “Any new girl that comes in, we ask them to write a word or a sentence on that wall,” she bit into her slice of pizza as your head was turned away from her admiring the creativity within it clearly someone taking time to draw around the inspiring words. “If you’re good, later I’ll let you write something”

You rose your eyebrows as your head turned back around her, “Good in behaviour or are you going to be putting me through my paces?”

Alexia’s head went back slightly as she laughed, “I like the sound of both” Alexia watched you continue to look around, you really were in awe with what Alexia had built and wanted to achieve here.

“My Neice would love this place” Alexia simply hummed, she didn’t want to ask questions not since you said you didn’t like speaking about your family, you nodded, “Yeah, she’s 9 and football mad”

“Do you have many siblings?”

You looked back to Alexia, “I’m the youngest of three girls” you smiled softly, “I’m the disappointment” you found yourself being oddly honest, which was a change for you, “My oldest sister, she’s a doctor, and my other sister is a lawyer, then I came along and wanted to take my silly little pictures”

Alexia's eyes soften as she listens to you, her pizza forgotten on the lid of its box. "Hey, don't say that. Your pictures aren't silly at all" she says gently, reaching across to touch your hand. "There's nothing silly about your pictures. You're an artist, and that's something to be proud of."

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest at her words, and you can't help but smile. "Thanks," you murmur, looking down at where her fingers rest on yours feeling suddenly shy. “Thanks. It's just… sometimes it's hard not to compare myself to them, sometimes it’s hard to feel like I measure up, you know?"

Alexia nods, her thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "I get it. But you're not them, you're you. You know what? The world needs artists just as much as it needs doctors and lawyers. Maybe even more." There was a slight pause before Alexia added more, “And from what I've seen of you, you're pretty amazing”

You look up, meeting her gaze. There's a spark of something in her eyes – understanding, maybe, or admiration. It makes your heart skip a beat. It’s being doing that a lot lately. You feel a blush creeping up your neck, and you clear your throat, trying to change the subject. "So, um,” You say eager to change the subject, looking back to the mural to break the eye contact sending you in a daze, “What kind of things have been written on the wall?”

“Come on” she said grabbing her half eaten pizza slice and beer, “I’ll show you” Alexia pointed to each word and translated it for you as you slowly moved along the wall you stopped walking to admire the painting someone had done of Alexia amongst the words, she took a step expecting you to move in time like you had been doing but you didn’t. She was stood incredibly close her face came closer to yours as she pointed past you, “That’s my uncle Ricards he wrote, nothing is impossible” she was whispering due to the close proximity, it was sending shivers down your spine you hoped you were hiding well, “The world itself says I’m possible”

“I like that” you speak with a genuine smile, you looked to the pen Alexia held in front of you, your eyes followed its holders arm up to her eyes.

“What you going to write?”

“I can’t write Spanish”

“You don’t have to write it in Spanish, Ricard didn't he just has awful hand writing” You took the pen pressing it to your chin as you looked for a spot and contemplated what you wanted to write, when you finished writing you heard, “What did you write?”

“I wrote” You glanced to Alexia, as you read it out loud, “Always do your best, everybody’s best is different, you can’t always be the best, but you can always do your best and that’s good enough”

Alexia's eyes light up as she heard your words, a soft smile playing on her lips. "That's beautiful," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think that's exactly what this wall needed."

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest at her approval. For a moment, you both stand there, admiring your contribution to the colourful tapestry of thoughts and dreams on the wall. The distant sounds of the town fade away, and all you can focus on is Alexia's presence beside you, the scent of her perfume mingling with the aroma of pizza and spray paint.

Suddenly, Alexia turns to you, her eyes dancing with excitement, “Time to put you through your paces now” she flicked her eyebrows at you. She laughed shaking her head at your face finishing her pizza walking away to a locked door unlocking it and coming out with a couple of balls in her arms one at her feet, she shut the door behind her, “You look terrified” she laughed

“You’ve won two ballon d’ors! Even if i was half average, which i’m not, i would look like an idiot around you”

Alexia was walking away, “There’s no difference then” she joked

You can't help but laugh at her playful jab, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you follow her onto the small practice pitch. The sun is starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the field. Alexia drops the balls at her feet and turns to face you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Okay," she says, placing her hands on her hips. "Show me what you've got."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Alright, but go easy on me."

Alexia grins, "No promises."

She passes you the ball, and you trap it under your foot, surprised at how natural it feels. "Not bad," she nods approvingly. "Let's see what else you've got." You start to dribble, hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence. Alexia moves to defend, her movements strong and fluid.

For the next hour, you find yourself caught up in a whirlwind. Alexia's infectious energy pushes you to try harder, to reach further. Her laughter rings out each time you stumble, but it's never mocking – always encouraging, drawing you back in. Often you wonder if she was trying to get the ball at all her arms always seemed to end up around you her feet making no attempt to get the ball right in front of her in reach..

As she chases the ball across the pitch, you can't help but marvel at her grace and skill. She seems amused that you changed your tac and just booted the ball away.

“Show off” you smirk watching her flick the ball around as she moved back towards you that ever present smile plastered on her face.

“Let’s play a game” she spoke, “You take a penalty” she put the ball down, “if i save it i get a kiss, if you make it, you get a kiss”

You smiled, “So either way, we’re kissing?” Alexia nodded almost proud with her plan, “Do you want to just cut out the middle man skip the foreplay and get down to business?”

You watch her come out the goal giggle when she can’t but help herself putting the ball in the net as she moved past it, as she neared your smiles grew. She pulls you closer your bodies crashing together her hand moving along your jaw to guide your face to hers, “I do want to as you say get down to business”

Your heart races as her lips meet yours, soft and eager. The bustling sounds of the town fade away, leaving only the warmth of her embrace and the faint scent of jasmine in her hair. You lose yourself in the kiss, savoring every sensation - the gentle pressure of her fingers on your skin, the curve of her waist beneath your hands, the way she sighs contentedly against your lips as your mouths move in perfect synchronicity. Your fingers gripped the clothes beneath your touch when her tongue flicked over yours, your groin instinctively pushing into hers begging for her hands to wander if only slightly.

When you part, breathless and dizzy, you find yourself gazing into her sparkling eyes. A playful smile tugs at the corners of her lips as you whisper, "Next time if you want to kiss me, just ask”

She nodded her face coming closer again, she brushed her lips tantalisingly over yours before quickly touching them together, “Ok” your lip went between your teeth as you smiled, Alexia’s eyes were firmly on your lips, she guided your lip back from between your teeth with her thumb, with a satisfying snap before pressing her lips back against yours. “Don’t do that”

“Why?” You whispered your faces still painfully close

“I don’t feel comfortable sharing why on just our second date” Alexia was thankful you seemed to understand as your smile grew.

You both looked as you heard the gate go, you watched an older woman work through the gate and pause when she saw the pair of you.

“Mami?” Alexia questioned confusion laced in her voice, she moved by you leaving you to fold your arms over yourself suddenly feeling cold. You heard them speaking Spanish as you busied yourself looking anywhere but to the mother daughter duo. “What are you doing here? It’s late”

“You set the alarm off” her mother spoke she pointed to the equipment cupboard door slightly ajar her eyes moving to you, “Who’s that?” She asked

Alexia swallowed looking to you to, “Um, a girl from works friend” Alexia’s mother knew her well enough to know she was just a friend, her swollen lips were a bit of a give away to. For Alexia's mother it was a complete shock Alexia was even entertaining a woman, Alexia to her mothers ears said how she's resigned herself to the fact with her acclaim and busy schedule she'd never get to meet someone. Alexia was always dead set against the idea of dating.

“She looks nice”

Alexia nodded looking back to her mother, “She is”

Eli smiled softly touching her daughters forearm, “Secret is safe with me amor” she nodded gently

“It’s quite new” Alexia offered, “I don’t know if” her mother cut in,

“You don’t need to explain, just next time, put in the damn code in if you're leaving the door open, you would never of heard the end of it if i let your sister come like she wanted to” they both shared a laugh before Alexia became serious you unable to hear what they were saying even if you could understand, you hoped she wasn’t telling her mother off.

“You shouldn’t be coming here alone what if someone really had broken in?”

“I saw your car, I wouldn’t of gotten out if i hadn’t recognised a car or someone” Alexia nodded following her mother as she took slow steps to leave, “i’ll withhold judgment” Eli spoke glancing in your direction, “Night amor”

“Goodnight Mami” they kissed cheeks before Alexia watched through the gate that her mother got back into her car ok.

You turned when you felt Alexia hand suddenly touch your waist after you failed yet again at getting past 4 kick ups, “Everything ok?”

Alexia nodded, “I set a security alarm off, Mami was coming to check it out and saw my car” your eyes moved as you heard a car leaving.

“Well i bet you feel guilty dragging her out”

“I always forget the damn code” Alexia laughed softly

“Does your mum come here a-lot?”

Alexia nodded “My mami is here everyday, she’s a god send without her this place wouldn’t run its her project just as much as it is mine.” You smiled sweetly as Alexia’s hand was yet to be withdrawn, you swallowed as it felt quiet as your eyes stayed locked with one another’s. “Should probably think about making a move? It’s getting late”

You hummed, “I hadn’t noticed”

Alexia smiled as she leaned back in, her hand got lost in your hair as you finished where you left off, you smiled as Alexia’s hand moved lower and seemed to stutter unsure if it should carry on to your hip. You reached to take her wrist in your hand and guided it to where you both wanted it, the kissing stopped briefly her grin infectious.

“Again” you whispered, “Just do it”

“I didn’t want to over step a line, i’m aware this is only our second date”

You let your arms come around her neck pulling your bodies as close as your faces, your lips brushing hers as you spoke, “You said that already .. Don’t worry, If you do, i’ll tell you” your lips pressed passionately together as both her hands now sat on your hips pulled your groin tight to hers leaning you back slightly. The kissing was a breathless passionate one, but no tongue, it felt like you kissed for an eternity but that still wasn’t long enough when you broke apart.

“Not to sound cheesy” Alexia spoke, “But i feel scarily comfortable around you considering we have just met” You hummed, “You hadn’t told Carla about the date?” She suddenly asked.

You swallowed as a slight distance was created, “No, she never asked”

“What did you say when she did?”

“Um, just that i had a nice time and then we went onto how she was shocked you’d want to see me again, and how offended I was after that”

“I’ll be having words with her” Alexia narrowed her eyes jokingly, “She clearly needs to borrow your glasses”

Your time at the academy soon came to an end you helped her pack up and head back into the car, you stopped following her with a smile she turned back looking confused. You pointed to the keys in the gates lock, “You not taking these keys with you?” You shook your head in amusement as you took them out checked she’d actually locked up, which she hadn’t, “Alexia!” You said in mock disappointment, as you moved to the car you tossed them to her. “Really?”

As you settled into the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Alexia. The way she looked at you, a mix of contemplation and admiration, made your heart skip a beat. “You’re distracting,” you said, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

She held your gaze for a moment, her expression thoughtful. The night air was thick with unspoken words, and the atmosphere felt charged, as if the world outside had faded away. You watched her stay outside for a few beats, the glow of the streetlights casting a soft halo around her. Then, the door swung open, and she slipped into the car beside you, not starting the engine just yet.

“It’s weird,” she began, her voice low and earnest. “I find myself when I’m with you like the whole world just stops, but time seems to double in speed.”

Her words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of their meaning pressing down on you. You turned to face her fully, intrigued by the vulnerability in her tone. “What do you mean?” you asked gently, wanting her to elaborate.

Alexia leaned back in her seat, her gaze drifting to the windshield as if searching for the right words among the stars above. “It’s like… when we’re together, everything else fades away. The noise, the chaos, even my worries. But at the same time, it feels like the moments we share slip by so quickly, almost too quickly.”

You nodded, understanding the essence of what she was saying. You felt it too — those moments filled with laughter, deep conversations, and the blissful silence that only two people in sync could share. “I get it,” you replied, your voice softening. “It’s like we’re in our own little universe.”

She turned to you, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and something deeper. “Exactly! It’s like… nothing else is happening when I’m with you.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the weight of her words lingering like a sweet melody. You could feel the connection between you deepening, a thread of understanding weaving its way through your hearts. In that moment, the outside world ceased to exist. Just like Alexia said happened for her. Your heart began racing as she reached for your hand. You intertwined your fingers, feeling the warmth radiate between you.

Alexia smiled, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks.

A rush of affection surged through you, and you squeezed her hand gently, Alexia finally turned the ignition, the car humming to life. “Let’s get you home, we have work tomorrow” she said, a soft glint in her eye.

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#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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jaylaxies · 2 months ago

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TEASER: CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, mentions of fighting, blood, more to be added!

WC: 15k words (estimated).

TEASER WC: 1654 words.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm back with a jeno fic (oh finally) i was and still am too invested in writing this, i hope you guys will enjoy it! send an ask or comment to be added! <33 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl). ps. happy jeno day <3

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine.

Comparison.

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing.

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to.

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family.

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye.

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with.

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar.

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed.

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was.

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that.

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him.

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football.

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return.

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma.

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.”

Fuck.

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place.

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin.

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled.

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man.

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone.

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes.

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back.

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day.

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month.

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before.

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes.

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before.

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same.

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised.

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level.

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.”

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?”

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.”

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes.

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you.

“You—”

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe.

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions.

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time.

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way.

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands.

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld.

It was ridiculous.

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that.

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background.

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother.

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother.

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day.

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met.

Jealousy was indeed a bitch.

#teasers!#nct #nct dream #nct smut #nct dream smut #jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct scenarios #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #smut #kpop smut #jeno x you

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lovemomhatepolice · 1 year ago

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inCHident - charles leclerc

navigation taglist requests

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: drunk! reader and Kelly, English is my second language!

type: fluff (funny? i hope so)

word count: 1k

summary: there is nothing funnier than you and your good friend Kelly Piquet, with whom you imitate your partners after alcohol and their famous action of 11 years ago...

more content: formula 1 masterlist, charles leclerc masterlist, max verstappen masterlist

“You know what?” You laughed, uncertainly walking down the stairs hand in hand with your boyfriend Charles.

“I'm listening to you, baby,” the man replied, holding you carefully by the elbow and waist.

Your head was spinning. The amount of alcohol on that day probably overcame you too much, or at least at that moment. Partying with Formula One drivers after races was something you loved. That atmosphere, that closeness of everyone together, the successful partying… well, and your beloved girls who proudly stood by their boyfriends as you did.

“You're a good boy,” you grinned, squeezing his hand. “Really, I've never had a better one in my life.”

Charles giggled under his breath, well aware of your condition. Ay, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you in it, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

“Well, in that case I'm glad,” he replied, helping you up the last flight of stairs at Max and Kelly's temporary lodging for this trip.

That's where the two of you held your after-party after a good partying at the club. You didn't often do this, as mostly everyone was already tired after the fun at the first place, but today quite a few of you still had a lot of energy in you and you definitely couldn't let it go.

“But really Charles.” you said, stopping in front of the stairs.

You were then standing in a place somewhat isolated from the room where all the rest who had come with you were sitting. They were not all drivers, on the contrary, you ended up with about ten people. The rest simply let go of further fun and either returned by plane to their homes or to their hotel rooms.

That's why hardly anyone could catch the fact that you managed the “bathroom” task, which earlier caused a lot of laughter. Leclerc just didn't want to let you go up the stairs alone, and heck knows - you could still fall down them in those heels.

“Really what?” he laughed, grabbing you by the waist the moment you threw your arms around his neck.

“You really are a good boyfriend. If it wasn't for you, I probably would have peed there, it was a must,” you whispered in his ear as if it were a secret, which brought a smile to his face.

“Mhm” he muttered, stroking your hips through the thin material of your dress.

You moved closer to him and kissed him lightly, grinning into his mouth at the same time. However, you were soon interrupted by a shout from Kelly, who, unbeknownst to you, suddenly jumped out from around the corner.

“[Y.N] I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN A LONG TIME!!!”.

You quickly turned around, abandoning your boyfriend's embrace, and threw yourself into the arms of the brunette, who stood behind you with her arms spread out. The hallway was filled with your squeals.

“Kelly, how I love you! You are so beautiful today, what am I saying? You are beautiful every day,” you replied, giggling.

You and the girl moved towards the living room and sat close to each other on the couch. Charles moved behind you, however, sat on the armchair next to you. He was well aware that he didn't even have a lift at that moment, when you continued to be giggling and in each other's embrace.

Everyone in the room was listening to some story by Lando, who was telling it with great passion, but you were in your own world. You whispered something in each other's ear, burst out laughing afterwards, paid each other compliments, and much more. It did not even cross your mind that Max was not in the room. You only found out when he entered the living room in a down jacket and looked at you and Kelly with a surprised look.

“Max, what happened?” asked Oscar, giggling under his breath at the sight of Verstappen.

Max shrugged off his jacket, depositing it on the couch behind you, making the brunette hiss from the touch of cold on her warm skin.

“I thought she went out...” the man began, but was not given the chance to finish, as he was interrupted by his girlfriend.

“NO, HE'S JUST UNFAIR,” she began to say loudly, grabbing your hand, which you quickly picked up on. You loved to laugh at your boyfriends. "I'm leading, he want to pass, he push me, I push him back and after he push me off the track. JUST NOT FAIR"

"Thank you, thank you Max" you replied, pretending to hold the microphone.

A volley of laughter went throughout the living room, and you could feel Lando's phone pulled out on you, which was most likely recording you, but you didn't pay much remark to it. So did Charles, who measured you with his eyes as intensely as Max did.

Kelly rose on the couch, catching in her hand the remote control that lay on the coffee table, and pressed it to her lips, sitting cross-legged. The girl tilted her head toward you and raised her eyebrows slightly, lending authenticity to the “interview.”

“Charles. What's happend with emm Max?" She asked and put the remote control to your lips, encouraging you to use it, like a real microphone.

You looked at Max, who was standing behind his girlfriend with a disbelieving face, and burst out laughing, but quickly stepped into your role again and put on a serious face. Just like fifteen-year-old Charles, giving an interview at the time.

"Nothing, just an inCHident... on the race" You replied, shaking your head in a familiar way.

“I think I just cried,” replied Lando, choking back his own laughter and wiping away the tears that really did trickle from his eyes.

Everyone in the living room laughed, including you and Kelly. Well, okay, maybe not everyone. Max and Charles looked at each other in disbelief, time and again shifting their gaze to you.

“I can't believe it's been twelve years and people continue to remind us of this,” muttered Charles, trying to break through the loud laughter and applause in the room.

All he got in response was a pat on the shoulder from Max, who took the seat next to him, and they both looked at the rest of their friends, wondering where in their lives they had gone wrong that they had chosen such people...

A/N: please do not copy or translate my work! if you have any issues regarding this please contact me in the messages :)

I hope it brought at least a slight smile to your face. AND what more can I say? happy (but belated) inCHIdent anniversary!

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cheftsunoda · 2 months ago

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secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

part three

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

hamilton reader x max verstappen

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

part one here:)

part two here:)

fc : tyla

warning : j*s verstappen mentioned.

a/n : hello loves! i stayed up a majority of the night to get this written for you bc i will be busy this weekend as i am attending the miami gp! i have part 4 already saved in my drafts as well and will have that posted whenever i can! thanks love bugs 🐞

hope you like <3

(side note : congratulations to max on becoming a girl dad!! so excited for him and kelly)

—

ayanaaa

netherlands 📍

liked by sza, kikagomes, lando & 7,254,478 others.

ayanaaa : ik wil nooit meer weg 🇳🇱❤️

translation : i never want to leave

sza : pls come back to me i miss you and your beautiful creative energy 💌💋

liked by author

ayanaaa : you need to come here and we can just hide away for years

sza : deal

username : ladies can we have the album and the tour first please?

liked by author and sza

sza : oh yeah I guess so

lando : speaking dutch, are we? aren’t you from stevenage?

ayanaaa: yes lando i am

lando : interesting…just vacationing? learned some lingo along the way?

ayanaaa : i will not be taking any further questions from the press at this time

liked by lando

username : what does lando know that we don’t

ayanaaa : not much, he is very uneducated

lando : lewis tell your sister to stop bullying

lewishamilton : she isn’t wrong mate

lando : smh

kikagomes : prettiest girl on the planet

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ayanaaa: that’s all you my love

username : hmmm there is a man…in the netherlands…who do we know?

username2 : stop reaching they don’t even follow each other

username5 : she said a while ago that her man is not famous

username : guys let me be delusional stop dragging me

username3 : I fully ship them so hard and will feed into all delusions

username10 : wasn’t k**ly just seen at a race with max?

username12 : she was invited by another brand and max barely acknowledged her

lewishamilton : Love and hugs from Roscoe and I! We miss you❤️

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ayanaaa : love and miss you both! see you soon

danielricciardo : where was my invite?😔

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ayanaaa : lost in the post maybe danny 😣

liked by danielricciardo

—

I didn’t expect the countryside to feel this much like breathing.

The drive out of Amsterdam had been quiet — Max’s hand on the gear shift, his other laced with mine. It wasn’t our first time here, but it was the first time I wasn’t pretending to be just a friend, just a guest, just a visitor. This time, I wasn’t here for a show or a weekend stopover. I was here as his wife — quietly, secretly, entirely.

And Max’s world was much quieter than mine.

Birdsong, not bass. Windmills instead of spotlights. Wildflowers growing along the roads that curved like something out of a painting.

When we pulled up to his mother’s house, I felt that flutter of nerves I only ever got before performing — that rush of adrenaline and ache, wondering if I’d be understood.

But Sophie greeted me with a warm hug and a “You’re finally back,” like I was returning home, not arriving for the first time as family.

I never had any interest in meeting Max’s father. He had threatened to expose our relationship to the media because he genuinely disapproved of us. He was unaware that we were married at the time. Max had made the decision to keep him as far away from me as possible. His mother on the other hand had been a godsend, she is quite literally sweet as pie. I could not have asked for a better mother in law.

I followed Max to the back bedroom as he lugged our suitcases down the hallway. I admired all the artwork and family moments his mom had hung on the wall, smiling when greeted by baby max’s face. Max swung the door open and set our luggage to the side. He reached for my hand and dramatically pulled us both down on the bed, I landed on top of him, our faces inches apart.

“Thank you.” He mumbled.

“For what?” I said giving him a questionable look.

“For being here. For making me fall for you. For letting me marry you. Just for you being you.” He said making my heart melt.

“Always, Maxie. You’re mine forever.” I muttered pressing my lips to his. His grip around my waist tightened and he deepened the kiss.

“I love you, schat.” He said as we pulled away.

“Love you more.” I said with a small smile.

—

Later, over mint tea and buttery apple cake Sophie had insisted on baking herself, I found myself laughing more than I expected.

“She was like this even when Max was a kid,” Victoria said, nodding toward her mother. “If you had a cough, you got tea and ten questions. If you had a secret, she already knew it.”

“Still do,” Sophie added, raising an eyebrow at both of us.

Max groaned from the other room. “Stop telling Ayana horror stories about me.”

“I’m not,” I said, teasing. “I like hearing about Max the Kid. Especially the one who used to name his Hot Wheels cars.”

Victoria cackled. “Don’t forget he used to cry when she beat him at Mario Kart.”

“I let her win,” Max called back.

“Sure you did,” Sophie and Victoria said in unison.

—

Later that night, when Victoria headed out to meet friends and Max had gone for a run, I found myself helping Sophie tidy up the garden. The sun was dipping low, all honey and gold.

“You know,” she said gently, snipping dead leaves from a potted basil, “he’s different with you.”

I froze for a second. “Different how?”

She smiled without looking at me. “Lighter. Not just happy —but a different kind of calm. That’s new for him.”

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, heart thudding. “He makes me feel safe. Even when everything else is loud.”

Sophie finally looked at me. “Then I’m glad you found each other. Even if it’s quiet. Especially because it’s quiet.”

“He has needed someone like you for quite sometime now. You bring out a side of my son that I have never really seen until now and for that I owe you everything.” She said with a smile. I felt my heart grow.

“I just do what he does for me. You raised one hell of a boy.” I said and she chuckled to herself.

“I am so glad to finally have another daughter. I wouldn’t have picked anyone else for him.” She scooted over and wrapped me in her arms.

“I missed being here with you guys. You all mean so much to me.” I muttered into her shoulder.

“And you mean the same to us, Liefde.”

—

F1gossipgirls posted!

25,289 likes.

F1gossipgirls: Max Verstappen was spotted by fans on a run around his home in the Netherlands!

username : wanna know who is also in the Netherlands? Ayana Hamilton.

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username2 : I really doubt they’d ever be a couple…let alone be able to keep it on the low this much

username5 : exactly..think about how famous they are and how hard it would be to keep that under wraps

username10 : say what you want yall I still believe it

username7 : absolutely no way lewis lets this happen

username : why else would she be there?

username11 : I believe there is some kind of music conference being held near by this week tbh

username : hush I don’t want to hear reason

—

That night, curled up in bed with Max, the windows cracked open to the breeze and distant crickets, I whispered, “Your mom’s incredible.”

He kissed my bare shoulder and said, “So are you.”

I smiled into the dark, fingers brushing over his arm where it curled around my waist. “You don’t think she suspects anything… do you?”

There was a beat — just the wind rustling through the trees outside and the soft exhale of his breath against my neck.

“She might,” he said honestly. “She knows me too well not to.”

“Is that bad?” I asked, quieter now.

“No,” Max murmured, pulling me just a little closer. “If she knows, it’s because she sees how different I am with you. And that’s not something I want to hide.”

I twisted slightly so I could see his face in the moonlight, silver edges tracing his jaw, his lashes soft against his cheeks. “Sometimes I forget how real this all is. Like it happened so fast, but somehow… it still feels right.”

“It is right,” he said, firm in the way only Max could be when he really meant something. “Even if we’re keeping it to ourselves. You and me — we don’t need a spotlight for it to matter.”

My heart clenched, full and warm. “I don’t need the world to know. Just you.”

He smiled, tired and tender, brushing his thumb along the curve of my hip beneath the blanket. “It’s funny. Everyone’s always watching us — timing laps, tracking stats, writing headlines. But the best part of my life… it’s this. This quiet. You.”

I buried my face into his chest then, letting the thud of his heartbeat ground me.

“I think your mom knew the second she saw the way I looked at you,” I whispered.

He laughed softly. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “I caught her watching me when you weren’t looking. Like she was piecing it together.”

“Well,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “if she did figure it out… she didn’t seem mad.”

“No,” I agreed, smiling into the dark. “She just seemed… proud.”

A comfortable silence settled between us again, the kind that only existed between two people who didn’t need to fill every space. Just being was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, the secrecy didn’t feel heavy.

It felt like something sacred.

—

The smell of fresh bread hit me before I even opened my eyes.

I stretched under the covers, blinking against the warm slant of morning sun cutting through the sheer curtains. From the kitchen below came the soft clatter of pans, the low hum of a radio playing some old Dutch jazz station, and Sophie’s humming — off-key and sweet.

Max was already up, of course. The spot beside me was empty but warm. My chest fluttered as I slipped out of bed, threw on his hoodie, and padded downstairs barefoot.

Sophie was at the stove, flipping something in a skillet. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard me.

“Goedemorgen, lieverd,” she said, smiling. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” I replied, grinning. “It smells amazing.”

Max was already at the little breakfast table, barefoot in sweatpants, hair a mess. He looked over at me, and that soft kind of private smile passed between us — the one that made my knees a little weak even now.

I settled next to him, and he nudged a mug of coffee toward me. “Made it how you like it.”

“Thanks, husband,” I whispered, lips quirking.

He smirked.

Sophie turned with a plate of eggs, cheese, and rolls and set it down in front of us. “You two are whispering like teenagers.”

I froze just a beat too long. So did Max.

She noticed. Of course she did.

She arched a brow, hands on her hips. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Max glanced at me. I gave the smallest nod. My pulse thundered.

He reached for my hand under the table.

“Mam,” he started, steady but soft. “We’ve been meaning to tell you something. Something important.”

Sophie’s eyes flicked between us. She sat down slowly, like she already knew but was letting us get there.

“We got married,” I said, voice quiet but certain. “Last year. In Vegas. After the Grand Prix.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.

“It was just us. No press. No big moment. Just… something that felt like ours,” Max added, eyes on his mother.

Sophie was quiet for a long moment, just watching us. Then, without a word, she reached out and placed her hand over both of ours.

“I knew there was something different,” she said finally, her voice thick. “But I didn’t want to assume. You two… you’ve always had a rhythm only you understand.”

I felt the lump rise in my throat.

She smiled then — watery and warm and full of so much love.

“I’m not upset. Just a little shocked. But I’m happy. Truly. If you make each other better — and I can see that you do — then that’s all I could ever ask for.”

Max squeezed my hand tightly, and I blinked fast, willing myself not to cry into my eggs.

Sophie stood and moved around the table, pulling me into a hug first, then Max. She kissed his cheek, then mine.

“When you’re ready to tell the rest of the world,” she said gently, “you’ll have me in your corner.”

And somehow, in that tiny kitchen filled with warm bread, mismatched mugs, and morning sunlight — it felt like a second kind of vow had been made.

—

We’d just finished hanging laundry on the line in the garden behind Sophie’s house. The sky was that pale, perfect Dutch blue, and the air smelled like basil and sunlight. Max had stolen another kiss while we folded bedsheets — laughing, relaxed, nothing but warmth between us.

Then we heard the car.

It wasn’t Sophie’s.

The rumble was too aggressive. Too familiar.

Max’s shoulders stiffened almost instantly. My smile faded as he turned toward the driveway, jaw clenching.

“Wait here,” he muttered, and before I could say anything, he was already striding toward the front of the house.

I followed anyway — heart thudding as I peeked around the corner.

Jos Verstappen was standing in the driveway, arms crossed, eyes already hard.

“Didn’t expect you to be here,” Max said flatly.

“Clearly,” Jos replied, glancing around. “You’ve been dodging my calls. Again.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With her?” Jos didn’t even try to lower his voice.

My stomach dropped as his eyes landed on me.

“That’s why you’re hiding out here? With Hamilton’s sister?” he scoffed, stepping forward. “You think this is what your focus should be on? This— whatever this is?”

Max moved so fast it made me jump — stepping in front of me like a shield, voice sharp.

“Watch your tone.”

Jos raised a brow. “I’m concerned. You’ve changed. You’re distracted. You don’t think people are talking?”

“I don’t care what people are talking about,” Max said coldly. “My life, my choices. You don’t get a say.”

“And her?” Jos gestured at me like I was something fragile. Dismissible. “This is serious now? You think this is the right match for someone in your position?”

That’s when I felt it — the shift in Max.

His spine straightened. His fists unclenched, not with calm, but with control.

And his voice dropped, low and deadly calm.

“We’re married.”

Jos froze.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Max said, stepping even closer. “Vegas. Last year. No media. No drama. Just us.”

Jos’ mouth opened, but Max cut him off.

“You don’t have to approve. You don’t even have to like it. But what you will do is show her respect. Because she’s not going anywhere.”

I blinked fast, throat tight. Jos looked from Max to me — and for a second, something almost like disbelief cracked his face.

Then he scoffed. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“No,” Max said, his voice full of certainty. “For once, I found something real. And I’m not letting you ruin it.”

Silence fell — thick and loaded.

Jos shook his head, muttered something in Dutch under his breath, and walked back toward his car. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t look back.

When the engine finally disappeared down the road, I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding my breath the whole time.

Max turned, immediately coming to me, his hands cupping my face.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, brow creased. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“You didn’t either,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes — not from fear, but from the way he’d stood in front of me like the whole world could break and he’d still protect what we had.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re my wife. That means something to me — no matter who tries to question it.”

And in that moment, I knew nothing — not legacy, not headlines, not even blood — could shake the ground we’d built together.

—

The house was quiet again.

Max hadn’t let go of my hand since Jos left — not while we sat on the back steps, not while I leaned against his shoulder in silence, not even now as the hum of a car came up the drive again.

We both knew it was Sophie.

Her familiar old hatchback pulled up slowly, the back seat full of fresh produce and wildflowers she’d picked from the Saturday market. She climbed out, calling cheerfully toward the garden.

“Are you two hiding from the sun or plotting something?”

I tried to stand, but Max gently pulled me back down. “I’ve got it.”

He met her halfway, kissed her cheek, and helped unload the bags. But Sophie’s mom-radar was instant. The moment her eyes landed on him — on the tension around his jaw, on the way his shoulders were still tight — she paused.

“What happened?” she asked, quiet now.

Max glanced at me, then looked back at her.

“Jos came by.”

Sophie’s whole face shifted.

“And?”

“He saw Ayana.”

Sophie’s gaze flicked to me where I still sat on the steps. “And what exactly did he say to her?”

Max exhaled slowly, jaw clenching again. “Nothing I’m going to repeat. But I told him. About us. Everything.”

Sophie closed her eyes for a moment. Not dramatically — just like she was centering herself.

She placed the bag of tomatoes on the kitchen table, then walked outside toward me. I stood automatically, trying to hold it together.

“I’m fine,” I started to say, voice cracking slightly. “I just—”

She wrapped her arms around me before I could finish.

Not a polite hug. Not a casual gesture.

A mother’s hug.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “He’s not an easy man. He never was. But you don’t deserve to be made to feel small in this family. And I won’t let it happen again.”

I let out a slow, shaky breath into her shoulder. “I didn’t want to be the reason there’s tension.”

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “You’re not. He is. And if he can’t see how good you are for my son — how happy he is with you — that’s his own blindness.”

Max came up behind me, resting a hand on my back, his other laced with mine again. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Sophie said firmly. Then she turned and walked back inside, already muttering, “Well, now we need something stronger than tea.”

Max laughed under his breath, his thumb brushing the back of my hand.

“She’s on our side,” he whispered.

And somehow, the weight of the day felt a little lighter with Sophie in the room. Family, after all, wasn’t always about blood. Sometimes, it was about who stayed when things got loud.

—

It was tucked away off a narrow country road — the kind of restaurant you’d miss if you weren’t looking. No sign, no streetlights. Just an iron gate, ivy-covered walls, and a menu you had to be invited to see.

Max had made the reservation days ago. Just the two of us. No press, no fans, no distractions. Just husband and wife.

He reached across the table, his thumb brushing my knuckles. “You look beautiful.”

I raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You’ve said that three times already.”

“And I meant it all three times.”

We ate under soft golden light, the windows cracked open to let in the summer breeze. The staff treated us like old friends — discreet, warm, and silent where it counted. The food was decadent: hand-rolled pasta, wine neither of us could pronounce, and a chocolate mousse I nearly cried over.

“It’s kind of perfect,” I whispered after the second glass of wine. “Almost too perfect.”

Max leaned in, eyes sparkling. “You waiting for the plot twist?”

I laughed. “Always.”

But the twist wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even loud.

It came in a quiet wave of nausea on the drive home.

I said nothing at first — just tightened my grip on the door handle, hoping it would pass.

By the time we stepped through the front door of Sophie’s house, the world was spinning just slightly. I kicked off my shoes too fast and stumbled toward the bathroom without saying a word.

“Yana?” Max called after me.

I closed the door gently behind me and gripped the sink, willing the dizziness to stop. My stomach flipped, sharp and fast.

Not food poisoning. Not nerves. Just… off.

I rinsed my face with cold water, trying to breathe.

Outside, Max hovered.

“I’m fine,” I called, not quite sure if it was true.

He was waiting when I opened the door, worry carved into every line of his face.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, half-laughing. “Probably just rich food and wine. You know I don’t eat like that often.”

Before he could argue, Sophie’s soft voice floated from the hallway.

“Everything alright?”

She was in her robe, arms crossed gently, not alarmed — but watching.

I nodded, pasting on a tired smile. “Just a little queasy. We had this insane truffle risotto—”

Sophie raised a brow, said nothing.

Max put an arm around my waist. “She just needs sleep.”

“I’ll make some mint tea,” Sophie said, already turning toward the kitchen. “It’ll help.”

But as she filled the kettle, her eyes drifted back toward the staircase. Her fingers paused just slightly on the stove dial.

She didn’t say it out loud.

Didn’t press.

Didn’t ask the question already blooming in the back of her mind.

But as Max helped me up to bed and kissed my forehead goodnight, Sophie stood quietly in the kitchen, tea steaming in her hand, a far-off look in her eyes.

It wasn’t the food.

She knew that.

It was something else.

Something beginning.

—

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