#the broken shards everywhere in them

[shouyuus]

Yeahhhhhh I'm gonna need the mutual cockblocking with Vi, yup.

based off of this ask. PHEW alright so uh, bullet points today bc /pops open another bottle of champagne/ it's that kind of day:

is it rly called bullying if u and vi r bullying each other and ur both like... into it? (neither of u are being subtle, everyone can see the yearning and they're all either super invested in when ur gonna hook up or tired AF of ur shit)

pitfighter!vi who glares at anyone who tries to chat you up at the bar that you frequent after all her fights (u volunteer at the dingy little clinic two doors down from the fighting ring and she thinks ur too naive for the mouth you've got on you -- and you do have a mouth on you dear sweet god), pays the bartender extra to keep an eye on you and double dose whoever is trying to chat you up that night bc hell be damned if vi'll see you leave with any of these weird fuckers

loris is so over vi's tantrums whenever you push yourself between her and someone she's sweet-talking; he knows that vi's just doing it bc she knows that the moment you see her reach out to push the hair of out of another girl's face, you'll be shimmying your way over and wiggling between them, pressing your tits up against the bar, snagging the drink that vi was gonna offer her potential hookup (and yeah, what if vi ordered a drink she knew you'd like better? huh? that's got nothing to do with anything)

"why don't you just take her home?". vi squinting at loris in the dimness of the alley behind the bar, "wh-what? i don't want that -- that conniving little... rabbit -- i like someone who's a bit more bite -- or... whatever." loris hitches an eyebrow, watching vi with a deadpanned look before sighing, "yeah. whatever you say."

whenever your friends ask you why on earth you're so hell bent on keeping vi from hooking up with a rando, you'd frown and huff and "you should see the way she comes into the clinic every other day -- i'm -- i'm doing a public service! she's gonna ruin whoever she gets her hands on and -- and i've gotta watch out for the sisterhood, yknow?" cue all ur friends rolling their eyes, "uh-huh. yeah. right."

the one night that vi manages to get someone halfway to the door, you catch them right before vi manages to lead the girl out into the street, draping yourself across vi's back, giggling as you loop your arms around her neck, "vi! i was looking for you everywhere -- you promised we could hang out after your fight tonight -- did you forget again?" you purposefully stumble into the girl she's with, knocking their hands apart. vi grimaces, narrowing her eyes as she rounds on you, intent on telling you off when she catches sight of what you're wearing -- a black leather skirt that barely kisses the tops of your thighs and a tiny little red croptop that leaves nothing to the imagination, dark fishnets criss-crossing up your legs (her mouth waters at the thought of ripping them apart to bury her fingers in your cunt) --

"uhm... friend of yours?" her would-be date asks, clearly a bit put-off as she looks you over. you pull your face into a girlish pout, batting your lashes at vi, "aw... are you doing this to get back at me for the other night? i said was sorry -- would you feel better if i let you eat me out in the back alley again --"

at that point, the girl vi's with pulls away and vi barely tries to get her back before rounding on you. the dopey grin slides off your face and your eyes glitter like shards of broken glass as vi growls at you, yanking you behind her till you're both in the dim alleyway behind the bar, the thick metal door slamming shut behind you

"what the fuck is your problem?!" she asks. you roll your eyes, scoffing, "whatever the fuck is yours. i've told you that you're supposed to be resting, and you never listen --" "i come to you so you can stitch up my face not so you can give me life advice --" "well i won't have to much of your face to stitch up if you keep on going like this cause you're gonna get yourself killed!" "why the fuck do you care?!" "cause it's my job!"

vi groans, jerking away from you to kick at an already toppled over trashcan, the metallic clank of it ringing through the narrow street

"you don't get paid to cockblock me at the fucking bar --" "and you don't get paid to spend all your winnings bribing the bartender into double-dosing all my potential dates!" vi whirls around then, eyes wide, "i -- i don't know what the hell you're --" you let out a wild shriek of laughter, "oh please! you're not subtle -- and you don't think pete and i have known each other for way longer than he's known you?"

vi huffs, folding her arms defensively over chest, glaring down the alley at the thing strip of light cresting in from the street out front, "that's -- those people -- they're not good for you. they'd --" she swallows hard, "they'd hurt you -- chew you up and spit you back out and --"

you cock your eyebrows, "you don't think i know that? i am from the lanes too, yknow."

vi scowls, "then you should start acting like it."

"what?" "nothing." "no, seriously -- what is it with you?" "nothing! god fuckin' -- forget it -- i'll find another bar to --" "violet."

her eyes jerk up, "how -- who -- how'dyou know my name?"

you sigh, rolling your eyes, "your friend? loris? he told me after the first time you punched a guy for trying to talk to me. you're probably too drunk to remember but --" vi shakes her head, "no i -- i do -- that guy was an ass -- i knew him from back when i used to run jobs for -- well, doesn't matter much now but --"

"i can look after myself, violet," you say. vi scoffs before she can stop herself, "yeah. okay." you sigh, leaning back against the bar's back door, "or are you just so caught up in needing something to protect that you don't see it?"

vi very nearly flinches. "what?"

you purse your lips, "i said what i said." "yeah well, say it again." she closes the space between you both in a few quick strides, crowding into your space, slamming a palm against the door next to your face. to your credit, you don't even blink.

there's a flicker of something behind your eyes that licks fire along the length of vi's spine; "i said -- you should find some other little puppet to work out your problems on because i'm done --"

she's kissing you before you can finish your sentence, and there's nothing caring or gentle about the way she bullies her tongue into your mouth and licks along the backsides of your teeth, nothing kind or caring about the way she yanks you forward by the back of your neck till you're sure you'll be able to feel the ghosts of her fingers against your skin for days and days to come

you moan into her, biting down hard on her bottom lip, grinning when the harsh, metallic tang of blood seeps across your tongue. when she pulls back, you're both panting, and you've never seen her eyes so dark, so hungry and crowded with sharp, thunderheads of lust

"mm, that's one way to shut you up," vi muses, running a thumb along the line of your jaw. you grin, a slanted, fox-sly thing. "admit it, you've been wanting to do that for ages."

vi's lips curl; she leans in close enough for you to taste the cheap whiskey on her breath as she says, "sure, and so have you."

[celestialmatcha7]

fragmented | nam-gyu

pairing: nam-gyu x gn! reader

genre: angst with some fluff

summary: nam-gyu relapses into drug use, and when y/n finds him in a fragile state, they offer comfort and reassurance. y/n promises to help him through the struggle, reminding him he’s not alone in the fight.

author’s note: i love nam-gyu. i just wanted to contribute and provide something for my fellow nam-gyu admirers. this imagine takes place prior to the games.

The dim light of the apartment barely illuminated the chaos inside. Clothes were strewn everywhere, a chair overturned, and the faint, acrid smell of smoke lingered in the air. You had come straight from work after Nam-gyu hadn’t returned any of your texts or calls all day. A pit of worry had settled in your stomach, and now, as you opened the door to find him sitting in the corner of the room, trembling, that worry turned to a heavy ache in your chest.

His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, his head resting on top as if the weight of the world was too much to bear. His once-vibrant eyes were clouded, red-rimmed, and glassy. A crumpled packet lay nearby, damning evidence of the fight he had tried so hard to win but lost today.

“Nam-gyu…” Your voice was soft, cautious, not wanting to startle him.

His head snapped up anyway, his face crumpling the moment he saw you. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice hoarse, as though he’d been screaming or crying—or both. “I—I tried. I swear I tried.”

You immediately knelt in front of him, reaching out, but he flinched. The sight broke your heart into a thousand shards. “Hey, it’s okay,” you whispered, even though it wasn’t okay. Not for him, not for you. But right now, he didn’t need reminders of failure. He needed you to anchor him before he drifted further away.

“I promised you,” he said, voice cracking. His hands shook violently as he pressed them against his temples, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I promised I’d stop. I just—I couldn’t. It hurts, Y/N. It hurts so much.”

You inched closer, carefully wrapping your arms around his hunched form. He stiffened at first, but then his body crumbled into yours, his face burying in the crook of your neck. His skin was clammy, his breaths erratic.

“I’m here,” you murmured, stroking his disheveled hair. “You’re not alone in this. I’ve got you, Nam-gyu.”

He clung to you as though you were his lifeline, sobs wracking his frame. “What’s wrong with me?” he mumbled against your shoulder. “Why can’t I just be normal for you?”

“Nam-gyu, listen to me.” You pulled back just enough to cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and the sight of his anguish nearly undid you, but you steadied your voice for his sake. “You’re not broken, and you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here, and I’ll keep being here, okay? We’ll get through this together.”

He nodded shakily, though his eyes still brimmed with self-loathing. You pressed your forehead to his, letting the silence stretch between you. Your steady breaths guided his, slowing his erratic rhythm until he could breathe without gasping.

“I’ll call the counselor tomorrow,” you said gently, brushing a tear from his cheek. “We’ll get you back on track. One step at a time.”

Nam-gyu sniffled, his lips trembling. “You really don’t hate me?”

You gave him a small, tender smile. “I could never hate you. You’re fighting, Nam-gyu. Even when you stumble, you’re still fighting. That’s what matters.”

His arms tightened around you again, and for the first time in hours, a faint glimmer of hope flickered in his tired eyes. You stayed like that for a long time, holding him close, reminding him with every touch and every word that he wasn’t alone—that you’d always be there, even when the battle felt impossible.

[obxsummer]

paper rings // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader (she/her)

summary: sarah cameron takes a test before she joins you and john b on a rescue mission. your brother has no aim whatsoever, you can't drive a boat, and jj's got an important question for john b. (p.s. sarah cameron is an angel)

warnings: pregnancy trope (i still love u sarah), john b & jj cry sesh!!

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

--

If you had asked Sarah Cameron what her life would look like at one point, she would’ve never told you this. She would’ve never guessed she’d be living with five Pogues who happened to be her best friends, and one Pogue leader boyfriend. That seemed impossible, but here she was.

John B was still passed out in bed, having carried you to your own at some point during the night to be tucked under warm blankets. Kie was snoring away, and Pope and Cleo had yet to emerge from their room, so Sarah had the house to herself, technically. 

She made her way out early in the morning when the sun was just peeking through, steering her bicycle into the downtown area. It was still trashed, obviously, but it seemed the worst of the damage had been taken care of and the fires were out. Keeping her head down, she ducked into the pharmacy in hopes of finding the thing she came here to.

Three years ago, if you would’ve asked Sarah Cameron, she would never be stealing pregnancy tests from a pharmacy, and she sure as shit wouldn’t be doing it at age nineteen.

Grabbing the two boxes, she stuffed them in her bag before collecting a handful of other items you all needed at the house. Might as well, considering there was still no power and the store wasn’t secured with the broken glass everywhere. 

Shuffling her way out the door, she tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while walking back to her bike. It was clear the riot had continued further past JJ’s departure since most stores were wiped of merchandise and torn to shreds.

The sunshine caught on the shards of glass scattered and Sarah held her hand up to her forehead to block the reflection from burning into her eyes. She came face to face with the local jewelry store window, the one she’d been in just a few weeks before.

--

JJ threw open the door to Sarah and John B’s room without any hesitation, and thank God the duo were actually taking a nap and not enjoying their alone time in other ways.

“Sarah!” JJ’s attempt at whispering was not going well. “Sarah, wake the fuck up!”

The girl in question groaned at being pulled from her slumber. “The fuck, JJ? What?”

The blond boy waited for her to look over at him before he was waving her closer. She huffed and shuffled out of John B’s arms, her boyfriend still snoring soundly with the grace of a heavy sleeper. Following JJ out of their room, she closed the door softly behind her so John B wouldn’t wake up.

“I need your help with something,” JJ explained.

Sarah took one look at his expression and smirked. “Holy shit, you’re so stressed.”

JJ rolled his eyes and grabbed her by her shoulders. “I need you to help me find a ring.”

“A ring? A ring for what?” Sarah repeated in confusion.  JJ shushed her, his index finger pressing against her lips as she went wide-eyed with realization. Sarah was practically jumping now, her excitement evident as she pulled JJ’s hand away from her face. “Holy shit! Are you serious?”

“Yes, now be quiet!” He looked over his shoulder to see if you were done with your shower and found the door still closed and water running. “We have to go now, okay? I don’t want her being suspicious.”

Sarah was quick to agree, bouncing as she ran down the stairs to grab her shoes and purse before meeting JJ by the Twinkie.

The two spent a good two hours in town, Sarah having been former friends with the jewelry store employee who was more than willing to answer any and all of JJ’s questions.

“What size ring does she wear?” Sarah asked as she scanned the cases for anything that caught her eye. “Do you think she’s a princess cut girl like me? Oh my God, this one is gorgeous.”

“Princess cut?” JJ repeated the phrase, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looked down at the ring Sarah was pointing at. “The fuck does that mean?”

Sarah looked up at him, dumbfounded. “Do you know the slightest thing about what she wants?”

JJ tilted his head and looked back at her. “Sarah, we’re Pogues. Have been our whole lives. Do you think she even has the slightest clue about what any of this means?”

Accepting defeat with that one, Sarah shrugged and turned back to the options displayed. “Whatever it is, you better make it a good one with all the shit she deals with when it comes to you.” She shoved JJ teasingly and moved to look at another area of the room. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Princess Cameron.” JJ rolled his eyes and followed her without any disagreement. 

--

Sarah frowned at the memory. The days of peace and hoping for the celebration you and JJ could have were long gone, but she hoped they could find a way to change that. If anyone deserved that happy-ever-after feeling, it was you and JJ. 

Biking back to Poguelandia was quiet, and Sarah was thankful for the time to think. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the pink tests in her bag and her heart was racing just thinking about it. She was nineteen, John B was almost twenty, but shit they were still young. This wasn’t what she imagined when she thought about having a family. Not in an environment like this.

Sarah tiptoed her way back up the stairs, noticing all the doors were closed except for the one to your room. A tiny part of her was relieved and she peeked in to see the balcony doors open, curtains blowing lightly with the wind. Closing your bedroom door behind her, Sarah made her way out to where you were resting in the hammock with your eyes closed.

“Hi,” She whispered quietly, not wanting to scare you.

You blinked and smiled up at her. “Hi, you okay?”

Sarah bit her lip in response, hand searching blindly in her back for the boxes before she held them up for you to see. “Um… can you-can I do this, in here? With you?”

You nodded, pushing yourself out of the woven hammock to meet her in the doorway, grabbing her hand in yours. Sarah tossed her bag on your bed and followed you into the connected bathroom, forcing a deep breath into her lungs. 

“I’ll wait, out… on the other side of the door?” You asked carefully, not sure if she wanted you in the room or not. When she nodded, you squeezed her hand. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Yeah.” Sarah nodded in agreement, but she was obviously trying to convince herself more than you. You attempted to give her a reassuring smile, but it probably didn’t help considering you were just as nervous for her. She closed the door quietly after that.

You paced the floor for a moment, wanting to give her the space and privacy she deserved while also fighting the bile in your throat. What the fuck happened now?

And where the fuck was JJ?

There had been no texts or calls from your boyfriend since last night, and although you were trying to give him the space and trust he deserved, you were worried. He wasn’t in the right mindset last night, and you didn’t have enough time to talk him down like you wanted to, like you always did. 

Grabbing your phone from the charger, you unlocked it and immediately moved to the Find My app where you could see JJ’s location pinging from Goat Island. You cursed, knowing he probably went in search of Groff after the information Luke shared.

JJ deserved answers. He deserved the truth. You shook your head, thinking about how Luke Maybank abused a boy that wasn’t even his, realizing how heartbreaking this whole situation was. It was unfair, and cruel, that everything good in JJ’s life had been ripped from him in some way.

Moving back to your messages, you typed one out: babe you okay?? we can come get you??

The message wasn’t read right away, causing you to sigh, but remind yourself that he might be busy talking to Groff. Or something was wrong. And you really really hoped something wasn’t wrong.

Your bathroom door creaked open slightly, Sarah’s face poking out as you got to your feet. Her expression wasn’t easily readable but she shifted enough for you to see the two tests on counter, both with two bright lines on their screens.

“Okay,” You spoke quietly, watching her expression for any kind of indication of how she felt.

“Impeccable timing,” She replied stoically. You nodded, trying to think of any words to comfort her but were stopped by the sound of footsteps.

“Hey! Is Sarah in here?” There was no time to prepare for Kiara’s sudden presence as she popped up next to you. Her eyes locked in on the bathroom counter instantly and her jaw dropped. The turning gears in her head were practically visible as she turned to face Sarah. “Um… are those yours?”

Sarah bit her lip, clearly nervous at the thought of more people knowing. “Yeah.”

Kiara was instantly looking over at you. “Oh, shit.”

Sarah frowned at the response, her eyes moving between the two of you in attempt to figure out what she was missing. “What? What’s ‘oh shit’ about?”

You shook your head, trying to give Kiara the sign to shut up. “Nothing, nothing. There’s nothing to be worried about-”

Kie thankfully picked up on your clue and started to dig herself out of the hole she created, “I mean… soon to be homeless, broke again, chased by killers. I don’t really know how it could get better.”

Sarah hummed, her eyes glancing back at the positive tests. “It would be like, super great, if maybe you could fine, like, one positive thing,” Her voice was shaky as she looked back at the two of you, eyes damp with tears. 

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom,” You answered simply, like it was the easiest thing because it was. Sarah Cameron had all the great qualities that a parent should have, and you were so happy for her. You just wished it had been at a better time.

“The best,” Kie agreed quietly, “And John B loves you. He’s gonna be an all right dad.”

The idea sent the three of you into laughter at the thought of John B, your John B, raising a kid. 

“And you have all of us,” You continued as you reached out to grab Sarah’s hand again. “Each and every one of us.”

Sarah nodded, her arms opening to pull you and Kiara into a group hug. “I love you guys.”

“We love you,” Kiara replied, her hand squeezing your side just a little bit tighter in an unspoken conversation. “So, what does this make me Auntie Kie now?”

The three of you pulled apart with more laughter, the cloud over your heads slowly disappearing with each passing minute. 

“Does… does John B know?” Kiara asked after a moment. Sarah pulled the tests off the counter, tossing them in the boxes and into the garbage with a shake of her head, telling Kiara that he didn’t, not yet.

“Any word from JJ?” Sarah switched the topic to pull the attention off herself.

You glanced at your phone to see an empty lockscreen and shook your head in response. “No. I have an idea of where he is, I just don’t know if he needs us yet.”

Eventually, Sarah slipped downstairs to make breakfast, finding John B already up and moving around the kitchen with the smell of bacon lingering. 

“Hi,” She greeted softly, kissing his cheek before unloading the items she had stolen from the store into the fridge. “Didn’t think you were up.”

John B flipped a piece of bacon. “Heard you laughing with the girls, figured I’d come get something started before we head out for the day. When did you go out?”

“Early,” Sarah replied shortly, her chest tight with the possibility of John B overhearing the news before she could share it. “Did you.. Did you hear us?”

He gave her a quick glance before putting the butter back in the fridge. “Laughing? Yeah, but that was about it. Everything okay?”

Sarah nodded as John B wrapped her in a hug, kissing her forehead gently. “Your sister knows where JJ is.”

John B blinked in surprise at the fact that you weren’t busting down the stairs. “And we’re not going to him because?”

Sarah shrugged. “She said she wants to wait, to see if he needs us.”

While John B wasn’t sure that was the best idea, nobody knew JJ better than you, so he had no room to argue with the decision.

“The ring was gone. From the jewelry shop.”

John B nearly choked on his own spit and coughed to clear his throat. Sarah giggled at the reaction, a smile spreading across her cheeks at the way he blushed. 

“You’re lying. Please tell me you’re lying.”

“Nope,” She popped the p in her word and waved her left hand in front of his face where her homemade ring rested on her finger. “We’re not going to be special anymore, Vlad.”

John B smiled at the nickname that he hadn’t heard in a while. “You’re always gonna be special to me, Val.”

You walked down the stairs a few moments later, now dressed for the day and stomach growling with the scent of food. “Hey,” You greeted John B as he set a plate full of eggs on the table while Sarah dipped upstairs to tell the others that food was ready. “Thanks for last night, you didn’t have to stay.”

John B sat outside with you until the early hours of the morning, holding you close with the knowledge that the nightmares would be worse if someone wasn’t there. This was the first time in a while JJ wasn’t home when you went to sleep, and John B didn’t want you to worry all night, so he stayed.

“‘Course,” He replied simply, pausing to lean against the table and look at you carefully. “You heard from J?”

You shook your head, snagging a piece of bacon from the plate. “He went to Goat Island. To see Groff.”

“Groff?” John B paused. You nodded and bit off half a piece. “Like Chandler Groff?”

“Yeah, Luke was spewing some shit when JJ went to see him, so he’s trying to get answers. I didn’t ask, he seemed kind of upset about it. I’m sure he’s trying to figure out how Luke got a bypass to take the house,” You explained, trying to answer the question without really answering it. 

John B seemed to roll with it and your friends slowly filtered their way into the kitchen to eat their hearts out. Sarah tucked herself in the chair next to you, John B on her other side. The empty chair at the table was a little too obvious, and when the read receipt didn’t show up on your phone all morning, you knew something had definitely gone wrong.

--

John B and Sarah were in agreement the second you said something felt off about JJ not answering. You quickly cleaned up after breakfast (though it was more like lunch at this point), and tried to get ahold of JJ again. Your texts were no longer being read, but his location was still pinging near Goat Island and you knew you had to drag your friends into it despite JJ’s wishes.

“We can take the HMS, he took the charter boat,” John B offered as you tried calling JJ again, to no avail. 

“We’ll try to find out some more about the rezoning,” Pope offered as he motioned toward Cleo. “It’s only a matter of time before they come knocking. We might as well prepare for it. Could stop by and say hi to Ma and Pops too.”

Kie nodded in agreement, “I need to go check in at home, anyway. Mom’s gonna kill me with how yesterday went.”

John B nodded in understanding and tugged a shirt on over his tank top. “Alright, we’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?”

The three of you took to the HMS shortly after, John B setting his course to Goat Island. Sarah plopped next to you on the small bench, leaning against your shoulder as you stared across the water.

Your brother was, recognizing the distant look in your eyes but his confusion was focused on Sarah’s sudden silence. She seemed excited earlier in the kitchen when talking about her new revelation, but she’s gotten quiet since then. John B made an internal note to ask her later.

“What’s that?” Your eyes caught sight of another boat across the marsh, barely covered by the plants covering it. “Kill the engine, JB,” You directed as you ducked down out of view. The fact that the sun was still setting didn’t help your cover but hopefully, the marsh grass would do its job enough for you to get a closer look. You could just barely see a group out on one of the ledges, a handful of them all with their sights on two people.

“Shit, that’s JJ,” You pointed slightly to the white shirt covering the form of your boyfriend. From here, he looked generally unharmed, but you still didn’t like the way the mercenaries were holding him back. 

“And Groff.” John B locked onto the form of the older man who was also being held a little too tight to be friendly. 

“Those are the guys from Charleston who took the scroll,” Sarah pointed toward the guy and girl that you and John B had narrowly avoided in the cemetery. The man she pointed at was the one Cleo had tried to kill, the same one that almost killed you while diving.

“What do they want with JJ?” John B asked, his eyes not leaving the form of his best friend, whose arm was wrenched behind his back with a machete a little too close to his face. 

You shook your head, heart practically in your throat at the scene in front of you. “I don’t think it’s JJ they want. He’s collateral.”

John B ran a hand through his hair. “We could, like, ram them. Create a distraction,” He offered.

“Ram that?” You repeated as you pointed toward the much larger boat. “John B, come on!”

“Sorry! Just trying to think!”

“Wait, hey!” Sarah reached down to grab the handful of liquor bottles that were remaining from your last store run, having been left on the HMS in a hurry, clearly. “A little Molotov cocktail, maybe?”

You gave her a side glance. “That’s psychotic. Let’s find some rags.”

John B quickly pulled up the bench seat in search of any leftover towels. You tugged your favorite beach towel from underneath you, fingers struggling for a second before you were able to rip it into strips, quickly tossing them to your brother.

“John B, hurry!” You hissed as the lady’s attention moved to JJ, her form much closer than before. 

“I’m trying! Shit!” 

Sarah ripped one bottle from his hand, tucking a few towel strips into the neck of the bottle and swirling it to the alcohol would drench the towels. “Light it, we'll distract them. He’ll get free, jump over, and we’ll grab him.”

“Just don’t hit him,” You looked at your brother, slightly terrified with the knowledge of his past aim. “I’d like him in one piece, please.”

John B quickly tied a rope around the bottle, his fingers moving as fast as he could to tie one of the knots your father had taught as kids. “Don’t hit JJ with the Molotov cocktail. Gotcha.”

Your hands searched your jean shorts for JJ’s lighter that you rarely left home without, handing it over to John B for his use. “Be careful, please.”

Sarah tucked herself behind the wheel of the ship, your brother on the front bow with the cocktail and lighter in hand. He quickly lit the towel, a curse leaving his lips at how fast it caught flame before he tossed JJ’s lighter back to you and started spinning the rope with the flames midair.

“Oh my God, I should’ve done it,” You huffed as you ducked next to Sarah, John B’s tactic clearly a horrible one. 

With a final grunt, he put his whole body into the throw… only for it to come back down on the floor of the boat.

“John B!” You chastised as the flames sprinkled over the floor. “You’re a dumbass!”

“Oh shit!” John B tumbled into the water in shock, the splash definitely giving away your cover if the fire itself didn’t.

You cursed and pushed Sarah back when she went to run for him, your stern eyes keeping her in place as you ripped open the cabinet beneath the wheel to grab the fire extinguisher Pope insisted on being there despite JJ’s best wishes. 

In his defense, John B was kicking and shoving water onto the boat, lessening the flames before you pulled the pin on the extinguisher and knocked the rest of it out in a cloud of powder. 

“Are you okay?” Sarah reached down to pull your brother back on board.

“I’m so sorry,” John B coughed and flung his extra shirt over into the boat.. 

“A blind person could’ve thrown that better!” You hissed and helped Sarah haul his weighted form up.

John B shrugged your hands off, his attention back on the cabinet where he pulled out a slingshot that JJ insisted on buying at the local county fair one year, swearing water balloon fights were going to become his new hobby.

You grabbed the second bottle as John B tied the rubber pieces to stabilize them. 

“You have ten seconds to explain yourself, or we start shooting!”

You recognized the man’s voice, knowing he was the one who had chased after you and JJ underwater that day. John B shuffled around on the floor, pulling the bands back into position for you to settle the bottle into his grip.

“Ready?” You asked, flicking the lighter open in your hand. Your brother nodded, giving you permission to bring the flame closer until the towel caught and the flames warmed your skin. 

John B took a deep breath, his movements calculated as he aligned and leaned back further. “Bye bye.”

The bottle launched this time, flying across the channel gap to the larger boat where the glass shattered on impact. The group went scrambling and you lost sight of JJ in the glowing orange light. 

“I said not to hit him!” You smacked your brother’s shoulder out of anxiety and looked back to the fiery scene ahead. “Let’s go!” 

John B moved instantly to restart the engine and steer closer to where JJ could hopefully get a better approach to jump. Your jaw dropped at the sight of a burning form going overboard to remove the flames from his clothes. 

“Where is he?” You called out aimlessly as John B approached the boat. He tugged on your elbow, pulling you behind the wheel without any explanation, and stood on the edge. 

“I’ll find him,” He promised before hopping to the other boat like it was the easiest thing ever. “Circle back around.”

Sarah thankfully shifted you gently, understanding you hated driving the boat in the first place, let alone when both of your boys were up to no good. Her hands took over easily and she steered the boat with a precision you never had.

“Thank God you used to be a Kook,” You breathed out with a small laugh, Sarah smiling in response but keeping her eyes focused. “We’ve gotta quit letting them do stupid shit like this together!”

Sarah huffed, turning around slightly to bring the larger boat into view as you waited for the boys to come into view. “I’ll kill them myself, actually.”

After a moment of looking, you caught JJ’s white t-shirt sprinting out one of the doors higher up, John B right behind him. Your brother took to the ladder, JJ engaging in another fight with the mercenary who intercepted him.

“Shit, shit, go!” You directed to Sarah when both boys were as high as they could climb. The crew below was recovering from the distraction and slowly shifting closer to engage. You screamed as one started climbing the rungs just behind your boyfriend, “JJ!”

His head snapped up immediately at your voice, barely sparing a glance at John B before the fear of you watching him get killed outweighed the jump they were about to take. “Ready?”

“Screw it.”

You couldn’t tell whether they were screams of excitement or fear, but both John B and JJ jumped as far away from the boat as they could. Sarah moved just as quickly, giving the vessel enough push to float next to the two close enough that you could lean down and grab hold. 

You anchored your weight and reached down with two hands to grab JJ’s wrists, a small grunt slipping out as you pulled him up with your momentum, both of you tumbling to the floor of the HMS. Sarah and John B had been much more graceful, your brother having enough time to get back to his feet and behind the wheel, jamming the throttle forward just as gunshots rang out.

You reached out to grab Sarah’s wrist, pulling her back down as John B swerved to make it harder to aim. JJ coughed under you, your leg tucked between his two as you sat up to keep an eye out for the mercenaries to follow. When they didn’t, you put your attention on the boy.

“Holy shit,” You breathed before bending to kiss him deeply, fingers tangling into his wet hair as his hands grabbed your hips tightly. You managed two more quicker kisses before settling back. “You okay?”

JJ’s thumbs slipped under your tank top to brush your skin gently as you looked him over for any obvious injuries. “Oh baby, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

“Hey, hey. Keep it PG down there, you two,” John B’s request made you scoff and you moved down to kiss JJ again despite your brother’s wishes. Sarah sat next to your brother, letting him rest on her shoulder as she took over driving so John B’s adrenaline could wear off easier. 

The four of you burst into laughter, sinking into the relief that you found your missing piece and could return home for the little time you had left there. What you didn’t know, just yet, was that the boys made it out with the scroll relating to the Blue Crown and your next treasure hunt was just around the corner.

--

After arriving back at Poguelandia, Sarah had practically dragged you into the house with the intent to shower before you’d rejoin the boys and catch everyone up on the last few hours. 

“Hey, dude,” JJ stopped John B before the older boy left the dock after he tied up the HMS. “Can I talk to you about something?”

John B nodded without any hesitation, nudging his head toward the store to at least get under the light since night had taken over. The Routledge boy dug into the cooler, grabbing a beer for himself before tossing one to his best friend. “Let me guess, this has to do with the grabby hands you had at the jewelry store last night?”

JJ’s jaw practically hit the floor which had John B dying from laughter in a few seconds. 

“How the fuck did you know?” JJ glanced around quickly to make sure nobody else was around to hear the conversation. “Seriously, are you a mind reader or like-”

“Sarah told me,” John B took a deep breath to resettle his emotions. “Said it was gone.”

JJ groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly, he didn’t know how to talk to his best friend of almost fifteen years. How does one ask their best friend of fifteen years permission to marry his sister?

“Look, I know this conversation should’ve been had with your dad, and I wish it could be because there’s a lot of things I would say to him first,” JJ started off, his words a little too heavy for his liking, but he had to acknowledge it. He had to acknowledge the fact that they were still kids in a scary world, and Big John should’ve been better to you. 

Clearing his throat, JJ took a big sip of his beer before forcing himself to meet John B’s gaze. “I mentioned it and you probably thought I was joking, but I also know there is nothing more she would want than for you to hear about this first. More than anything in the world, John B.”

John Booker Routledge had prepared himself for a lot of things in life, but he never prepared himself to be staring at his best friend with tears in his eyes over you. To be talking about another person protecting you when he couldn’t, to give up being the one you ran to for help. John B didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like this was saying goodbye to being your big brother. 

“I love her, man. I love her more than I ever thought I was capable. She makes me… she makes me so good. Like I’m more than the kid with the piece of shit dad and the shit short stick. I’m more than that to her, and… and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. Like you can’t make that shit up, bro,” JJ let out a teary laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s like the fucking sunshine after a hurricane, like no matter what, it’s gonna be okay, and I don’t want to lose her. Ever.

“I want to make her the happiest person in the world. She deserves a life so much better than this one, where she’s not worried about food on the table, or if we’re coming home at night. She and Sarah, hell all of us, we all deserve that, man. I just…I just want the chance to give it to her.” 

John B stared at the person across from him who was spewing words he couldn’t read in cursive. This was JJ, JJ fucking Maybank. The kid who smoked weed like it was his job and hosted keggers like it was nobody’s business. John B’s watched that version of JJ, the ticking time bomb version, completely disappear. That version of JJ doesn’t exist anymore, and in its place was the one John B had grown to trust when it came to you. 

The version that held your hand when the road was rocky. The one who picked flowers in your favorite colors just to see the excitement in your eyes before they died two days later. The JJ that held you night after night when your head became too messy and you wanted to give up. This was the JJ that knew your anxiety attacks and how to stop them, how to be level-headed with you even when it was hard to. This is the JJ that John B knew you deserved.

JJ was pacing now that his best friend hadn’t really said much and he was worried the idea was flying out from under his fingertips. “I know I don’t deserve her, John B. I never will. And I’ll never forgive myself for letting everything happen to her. I should’ve been there, I should’ve done better. But I swear to you, from here on out, I will do everything I can, every lasting day of my life to make sure she’s safe.”

Reaching into the zipper pocket of his cargo shorts, he tugged out the signature shark tooth he usually had clipped around his neck, but this time there was a new piece attached. A silver ring on the chain weighed a little bit heavier than usual. JJ took apart the clasp and pulled the jewelry off before holding it out to John B.

“Sarah um… Sarah was with me, but I guess that’s obvious now. I didn’t know what the fuck princess cut meant, and the lady there went to the Kook academy and they used to be friends so I guess…”

JJ's voice floated away as John B stared at the ring in between his fingers. He’d seen this ring so many times in his life, and the realization of where made the tears fall. Holy shit.

John B crying caught JJ off guard and now he was panicking, “Dude, you good?”

“I made a call,” Sarah’s voice entered the conversation as John B turned to face her. She was teary herself, having eavesdropped a bit on the words shared. “Nicola said she remembered your dad from the shop.”

John B swallowed harshly and opened his arm to let Sarah tuck into his side. He stared at the object for a moment longer before holding it back toward JJ who was looking at him expectantly. “That was… that’s my mom’s ring. Our mom’s ring.”

JJ’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Dad had pawned it when he got in deep with the gold and… how did you?” John B sniffled and rubbed his nose as he looked down at the girl next to him.

“Oh come on,” Sarah laughed at their shock, but deep down she knew this meant a lot to John B and it would mean even more to you. “She’s my best friend. Did you really think I was going to let you go in there and pick out something as important as this when you didn’t even know what a cushion halo was?”

JJ crashed into the blonde girl a little harder than he intended, but Sarah welcomed it regardless. She hugged him back just as tightly, feeling his shoulders shake beneath her touch. She was just glad to make this happen for the two of you. Nobody deserved it more. 

JJ pulled back after a moment, giving her forehead a kiss before he was once again faced with his best friend and the lingering question. John B tackled him just as hard, the two boys clutching each other like a lifeline. Suddenly, they were kids on the playground again, defending each other when things hit a little too close to home. And shit, were you home to both of them.

“There is nobody…nobody, I would trust with her more than you,” John B sniffled when he leaned back to clasp JJ on the shoulder tightly, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his face. “She’s yours, JJ. Always has been.”

JJ let out a sob and embraced John B again. John B knew that deep down JJ never felt like he was good enough for you, but the two of you couldn’t have been more perfect for each other. 

And although John B felt like he was losing you, there’s nobody he’d rather lose you to than his best friend, JJ Maybank.

--

a/n: hiiiii our babies are getting engaged!!!!!

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[lixie-phoria]

summer sun forever (stray kids comforting their 9th member!reader)

pairing : platonic stray kids x fem!9th member reader

requested : yes

warnings - mentions of blood, description of poor parenting (lmk if i've missed any!)

genre - angst to comfort

jeongin thought it was normal, the way you would sit alone during group discussions giving your input only when asked directly.

seungmin though it was a habit, the way you would immediately pinch yourself if you made a mistake.

felix thought it was out of good nature that you would constantly appreciate his sunshine-like personality and inability to be mad for longer than a few moments.

han thought it was adorable, the way you would cover your smile while laughing at one of his jokes, trying to hold back any laugh that was louder than a giggle.

hyunjin thought it was just your strive for perfection that you would spend hours more than the other boys trying to perfect your choreographies, scared to mess up.

changbin thought it was a personal preference, the way you'd always dress up in lose clothing, rejecting anything that was too fitting.

lee know thought it was impressive, the way you could recognize any member just from his footsteps approaching your room or the way you always left one ear uncovered when using headphones.

but chan knew. or he thought he did, at least. maybe it was brotherly instincts kicking in, but he knew these habits weren't healthy. far from it. it concerned him, but he didn't know how to approach you either.

his concerns were triggered for the first time when you dropped a glass at the dorms, sharp shards scattering everywhere. you didn't notice him rush to help you as he stopped dead in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you pick up the broken pieces with bare hands. he saw the way your hands were trembling and how a particularly tricky piece sliced right through your skin, blood oozing out. you didn't even flinch, sparing the cut a small glance before you went back to cleaning the floor. you didn't bother trying to disinfect it, opting to only run it under the tap and wiping it away with a few tissues. then you crumpled them up, making sure the members wouldn't notice the red on the paper and went about your day as usual. chan waited, patiently, expecting you to bring up the injury to anyone, but you didn't, so he thought maybe it was just a small cut. maybe it was just a small wound, after all.

you would tell them if you were really hurt, right?

the second time chan notices something wrong is when you hit your upper arm at the edge of the table during dinner. it had hurt, that much he knew from the way you yelped and rubbed the sore spot. he had laughed at your clumsiness with the others as you smiled sheepishly, ducking your head and running away to your room to do who knows what. he thought he saw tears in your eyes, but you didn't mention the bruise again, so they all thought you were okay.

but chan's breaking point was when stays themselves noticed something was wrong. he was scrolling through instagram when a particular reel caught his attention. it was of their dance performance, and the fan had zoomed into your figure - specifically your upper arm - and the large reddish blue spot was so strikingly evident it took him three rewatches to make sure it was not an edit. how had any of them missed it? then another reel came up, and it was you wincing slightly as lee know jokingly shook your hand, the same one you had cut while cleaning the glass. and it's like the pieces immediately fall into place.

chan doesn't think twice. before he knows it he's out of his room and walking (more like storming) towards yours, and he doesn't bother knocking. but even then, you had been expecting him, because you're staring at the door with a small smile on your face.

"i heard you coming. is everything ok?"

it's the first time your keen observation skills concern him, but he doesn't answer, instead striding towards you and lifting your arm despite your complaints. when his eyes zero-in on the bruise that you had expertly been concealing, he sees red. he isn't sure why he's angry. it's not your fault. but he is mad, and he couldn't control it.

of course you could see it on his face, and it's like you go into auto pilot mode, snatching your arm back and immediately apologizing, making excuses that fly straight out of his ears. he tries to hold back, he really does, but he can't. and before he can stop, the damage is done.

"don't bother. you clearly don't trust us enough anymore."

in hindsight, that was probably the worst thing chan could have said to you. blaming you would only worsen things, but he's so confused and disappointed in himself. he didn't know what kept you on the edge so often, and it hurt him that you wouldn't open up.

and thus the apparent cold war began.

you weren't mad. no. far from that. you were terrified. you had disappointed chan, the one person who made you feel safe always. the one person you knew you could go to with anything. but you chose not to, and now maybe you never will be able to. and it was like you were a teenager again, crying yourself to sleep every night, cautious of every word you spoke, and jumping at the slightest raised voice.

chan wasn't mad either. he was confused. he was hurt, a little bit. and he regretted the words he had carelessly spat out. it clearly hadn't been the right approach and now it hurt him to see the way you would tense whenever he stepped into the room, not making eye-contact and apologizing profusely to everybody for the smallest mistakes.

he thought giving you space was the best option for now. but in hindsight, that was a terrible decision too. he didn't realize how angry he was coming off as. he didn't know that not just you but all the members thought he was giving you the silent treatment. and for you, that hit too close to home. literally.

"ynnie, do you want some more soup?"

felix is met with a timid yes as he happily pours you another serving. but even his bubbly smile couldn't diffuse the obvious tension in the atmosphere. the other 7 didn't know the details of what had happened. chan knew you would want to tell them yourself if you told them at all, but they knew it was bad. because now you barely smiled and chan always seemed tense.

"and salt?"

again, you only nod, reaching towards the jar he was offering, when it happens. all of a sudden. jeongin's arm brushes yours, and as his elbow pushes into your bruise, you yelp, the lid falling to the floor with a loud shattering sound.

the silence that follows immediately after is loud, and everyone notices the way you go completely still. unnaturally still, as though waiting for someone to yell at you. lee know recovers first, and as he bends down to pick up the fallen object, you flinch, and their hearts collectively shatter.

what was the matter with you lately?

before they know it, you're gulping the steaming hot soup down, hurriedly apologizing and making a bee line for your room. but this time, everyone can see the tears brimming your waterline.

nobody gets up, but nobody eats anymore either. the silence only intensifies until chan groans, burring his face in his hands.

"hey lix, you mind checking up on her? i don't think she's doing very well."

the blonde boy doesn't need to be told twice. he's making his way towards your room and when he enters, the floor slides from beneath him. you're curled up in your bed, trying to muffle your sobs that wrack through your body.

when you see him come in, your first instinct is to hide. to not show. but it's too late, because he's rushing towards you, embracing you in the warmest hug. its comforting, in a way you have never felt before, and that only spirals your break down further.

felix doesn't know what to do or say. he doesn't know what happened. he doesn't know what could make you feel better, but it's so incredibly heart breaking the way you curl up into yourself as though trying to reject any help that it brings tears into his own eyes.

it isn't long before the others come following, and when chan sees you it's like a part of him dies. you look so small, so hurt, so breakable. and deep down, he knows this could have been avoided if he'd thought twice before lashing out at you.

"yn."

his voice is soft, and when you notice him you're scrambling out of felix's grasp, and he almost thinks you're trying to get way from him. but then you're throwing yourself into his arms with apologies tumbling out along with your sobs. he tries to calm you down, running a hand through your hair, but you're inconsolable. they have never seen you cry like this before.

"calm down, angel. please. talk to me."

it's the first time chan has spoken to you in more than a week, and you hadn't realized how much you had missed it. how much his silence had been affecting you.

"please don't be mad at me." you whimper as chan guides you sit on your bed, the other 7 hovering around unsure of what to do but concern reflecting in each of their eyes.

"mad? i'm not mad, ynnie. i'm concerned."

his words come as a shock.

he's concerned?

"but i'm crying."

"that's exactly why i'm concerned."

"oh."

you've never heard these words before. you never thought you would. growing up, showing emotions was a big no. crying was almost a taboo. showing emotions was for the weak, as your parents would say. they didn't wish to raise a weak daughter. nobody ever showed you concern. it was either anger or silence.

you've run out of tears, but dry sobs still shake your body every few seconds as chan holds you closer, motioning for the rest to sit down.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head. no. you were bad at talking about your feelings. they didn't have to know. it's not that important.

"you have to open up at some point, yn."

"i don't want to burden you guys."

"burden us?"

even seungmin, who usually stays expressionless during conflicts, seems appalled.

"yn, your emotions are not a burden."

"that's not what mum used to say."

you didn't mean to say it out loud, but it slips from your mouth and they all seem to have heard it.

chan's grip on you tightens. none of them knew much about your family. you didn't like talking about it. now it was slowly coming to them exactly why this preference could be.

"you can trust us, you know? we want to be there for you."

"i do trust you."

"then why won't you tell us what's wrong."

"don't want to annoy you any further."

the guilt gnaws at chan as felix pulls you away from his grasp, snuggling you into his side.

"yn, i wasn't mad. i was trying to give you space."

"i thought you were ignoring me." and in a smaller voice you reluctantly add "like my parents used to. everytime they were mad."

even han is somewhat misty eyed as felix runs calming circles against your upper arm.

"we would never give you the silent treatment."

"yeah! we love you way too much for that."

"is that why you're so closed off?"

"changbin! you can't just ask her that."

you giggle tiredly, earning a small smile from chan.

"it's alright. i'm glad you asked binnie. i think i'm ready to tell you guys."

they're all attentively waiting, and you shift uncomfortably. you never thought you would have this conversation.

"growing up, my parents didn't encourage me to express myself very much. i wasn't allowed to make mistakes, and if i did, they would give me the silent treatment for days on end. i hated it."

your voice is so small and fragile it breaks their hearts a little more.

"i've gone weeks trying to get my mother to speak to me normally. to act like she cared. but she'd always be so cold, insistent on punishing me for every little thing."

"and-" your voice broke, making hyunjin join felix in smothering you with cuddles.

"take your time, yn."

you hum, closing your eyes to stop the fresh wave of tears.

"and when chan stopped talking to me, i felt terrible. i thought i disappointed him too."

there was no more place, but chan joins the tangle of you, felix, and hyunjin as well, rubbing a soothing hand on your back.

"i'm so sorry i made you feel that way ynnie. i had no idea."

"it's not your fault," you admit, leaning into his chest.

"are we good now?"

"i hope so."

chan lets out that breathy laugh of his which you've grown to love over the years.

"don't ever hide your feelings from us, ynnie. you're a part of us. we don't want to see you hurting."

felix bops your nose as you smile, and it's all so corny and sweet, but it's also exactly what you need.

"now can we please have a movie night?"

"yah! jeongin. give her some time."

"no no, i'd actually love that. please?"

they're all ready to do whatever you want. it warms your heart and you almost cry again. nobody ever did this for you. you learned to think you didn't deserve it.

but here these 8 boys were, scrambling around trying to a build you a pillow fort and searching the shelves for snacks, yelling at each other across the house.

and as you're sitting there, you think that this could be your favorite site. they could be your favorite people. this could be your favorite memory. this feeling of being at home could be your favorite forever.

©lixie-phoria, 2023 taglist : @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[holy-puckslibrary]

─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜.

pairing(s) — fwb!MATTHEW TKACHUK x reader wc — 3.2k synopsis — best not-boyfriend boyfriend ever! (read the request here) note — bestie, your brain? marvelous! this was an absolute joy to write, and i hope this captures your vision!!! thank you for the request <3

main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — hints of a debut-inspired ensemble; complicated, grossly intimate situationship + emotional constipation; angst (not really) to fluffy fluffy; tswizzle references; suggestive section: "heavy petting" but nothing explicit / fade to black; brief alcohol mention + consumption; brief mention of food (no specifics); and ~emotions~ 

I. it’s getting so much clearer… 

Matthew regrets making you a key. 

Majorly.

If he’d known the can of worms he was opening when he unceremoniously dropped them in your lap one night, he would’ve listened to his brother; you don’t give girlfriend privileges to women who aren’t your girlfriend. It only leads to hurt feelings, broken console controllers, and unnecessary trouble. 

However, it’s highly unlikely this is the “trouble” to which Brady was referring. 

Rooted in the entryway, he surveys the damage. 

Beads of all shapes, sizes, and colors sit in a sea of jars. Some have spilled out under the coffee table and couch, others have made it all the way into the kitchen. Knotted balls of elastic are sprinkled throughout the chaos, as are multiple pairs of scissors, skeins of embroidery floss, and shards of construction paper. There are markers everywhere, but for some unknown reason, the crayons and sticker sheets are in nice, neat piles. A white feather boa is draped over the entertainment center and there’s a pink one curled by his feet. And, in the eye of the storm, is an anxious lump frantically stringing together DIY jewelry and muttering along to the megamix blaring through the room; he doubts you even heard him come home. 

“Sweetheart, is there a reason it looks like a craft store threw up everywhere?” Matthew shouts as he gingerly braves the hurricane. 

Something crunches under his shoe, and from the sound alone, he knows it would’ve been worse than stepping on a Lego if his feet were bare. 

He also knows that if the music were even a decibel lower, you would be pissed beyond belief. How dare he move freely through his own home without first checking for rogue pieces of plastic? His ears are ringing, but he’s grateful for it. From many years of mistakes and misadventures, he's learned you won’t get on top if you’re mad, regardless of how much groveling he does. And he's got one foot in the doghouse after last weekend as it is. 

“T-minus two days ’til Taylor, Matthew,” you grumble from the floor. “What do you think?” 

You’ve been at this for weeks. It gets worse the closer the concert gets. The mess and your mood. 

Matthew isn’t stupid, and he knows you better than he lets on. You panic under the weight of your own (often unrealistic) expectations. You need everything to be perfect, or the entire world crumbles. This, Night One of the Florida dates of the Eras Tour, is, understandably, no exception. If anything, the pressure’s dialed up to eleven. 

In stressing over every little detail, you’ve made yourself miserable. Watching you unravel makes his chest feel strange. 

You won’t ask for help. You don’t want it, either.

But, he can’t let you flounder. For his own sanity, he can’t do it. And he does care about you. Maybe not in the way everyone assumes or hopes, but he does. He’d do almost anything to lighten your load. 

Yet, Matthew treads lightly. If he’s too forthcoming, you could get the wrong idea. He doesn’t want to spook you, and he can’t have any wires getting crossed. What’s so good about your situation is how markedly uncomplicated it’s been. He refuses to be the one who fucks it up for everyone. 

So, he does what he can, and he does it without making a big deal about it. 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he sinks down onto the floor beside you. You’re perched on one of the obnoxious throw pillows you insisted he order to “spruce up” the space and make it look less “bachelor pad-y." As if that’s not exactly what it is. He takes this as rare permission to do the same, placing one under his hips and cuddling another to his chest as he stretches out on his stomach, phone in hand. 

Well, as stretched as a person can be in the middle of an obstacle course. 

Between the second play of “cowboy like me” and the third of “Tim McGraw,” his various feeds dry up, and he’s spammed his contacts into oblivion. You're still chugging along, like a Sad Girl automaton locked in an endless glittery assembly line. 

At one point, you murmur, “Give me your wrist." 

And he does. 

Matthew’s taken aback when you loop elastic around it to get a measurement.

He’s confused, but not for the reason one might assume. He’s painfully familiar with the friendship bracelet phenomenon and the giddy exchanges, having been force-fed hours' worth of tour content over the past year, but he never thought you’d rope him into it.

The buzz under his skin is oddly auspicious, watching you clip the appropriate length before reaching for the pile laid out near his head. 

It’s not long before you make the same request again. However, this time, you slide on a custom creation. You fiddle with it for a moment, then turn back to your station to begin the next one on the list. 

“And in which era does she cosplay as a camp counselor?” Matthew teases as he thumbs the letter beads.

They spell out a moniker he’d honestly find offensive if you hadn’t looped the song one too many times. He wonders if you’ve made yourself the matching one. 

You emit a sound that haunts his nightmares and side-eye him in a way that would’ve made a lesser man disintegrate. 

“If you don’t want it, give it back so I can give it to someone who will appreciate my time and effort,” you bite with your hand outstretched, palm up and open expectantly. 

Matthew shoves it away, suddenly defensive. “I never said that.” 

The sun slips behind the fence an hour later, and the sky bathes the house in purple-pink hues. As he gathers ingredients in the kitchen, Matthew watches the slow-moving clouds absentmindedly. He hasn't felt this content in a while.

Arms full, he wades through the arts and crafts on the way to the backyard. 

You’re still in the den, still hunched over in the same place he found you in. He shakes his head when he passes you, knowing he’s got an hour (at least) moonlighting as a masseuse in his future. 

You don’t startle or acknowledge him until the grill set you bought for his birthday clatters to the floor. 

“Why’re there two cowboy hats getting glitter all over my patio?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. And hating it. Vehemently. 

You fix him with an unamused glare. Your brow quirks, and your hands still. Then, you blink at him very slowly. Like he’s an idiot. Like he just asked a stupid question—because he did. 

Matthew’s head wags so intensely that his neck cracks.

“Oh, hell no.” 

II. it’s coming undone…

Matthew scowls at his reflection. 

“—looks so fucking stupid.” 

He can’t tell if he looks worse with or without the fur-trimmed, shimmery cowboy hat. And, honestly, it's a little distressing. After temporarily ditching it, he tugs at his curls. Then, the hem of the jersey. 

Resigned, he reaches across the bed for the homemade accessory. Wearing it will make you smile—and it gives his dignity something to hide behind. 

Twitter’s going to have a fucking field day. 

Your panicked voice spills out from the hotel bathroom, “Really?” 

“Of course, it fucking do—” 

His tirade of vanity grinds to a screeching halt at the sight of you, backlit and wilting. 

“That’s not—ah, fuck.” Matthew digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What I meant was—me, it looks stupid on me. Not you. On you, it looks… It looks…” 

“It looks, what?” 

It looks like he’s glad none of your friends were available because he won’t have to pretend you’re less than you are.

No lectures, no goading, no scrutiny. Just you. 

“Right.” That’s the word he settles for. “It looks right.” 

The emphasis chips away at what little believability the underwhelming affirmation had. That much is evident from the insecurity bleeding through your makeup. 

“Right,” you parrot. Skeptically, you drag out the vowel long enough that it disappears into the bathroom with you. 

Before the door clicks shut, Matthew’s already berating himself for whatever just happened. For acting like a complete doofus with a foot shoved down his throat. 

His mind is as quick as his tongue is sharp. He’s got confidence for days and a cocky demeanor primed and on-call, one that most women find endearing. Yourself included. He’s never had an issue dishing out pretty words or flirting before, especially not with you. 

With you, banter came easy. Sweet or salacious, it didn’t matter. The bob and weave, from platonic chatter to something charged and suggestive, is effortless. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. It's innate. He should be able to uphold his reputation in his sleep. 

What’s gotten into him? 

(You’d say the power of Taylor Swift, or some shit. Which is why he doesn’t open the floor for discussion. Among other reasons.) 

Matthew makes the executive decision to put things right. To redeem himself, to feel more like himself. 

His palms are hot and tingling as he sets off to do what he does best. Something fool-proof. Something that’ll erase the past ten minutes from the collective consciousness. Something to scratch an itch...

He won't make it through three and a half hours without catching a public indecency charge. 

Not with you looking like that.  

“I was thinking,” Matthew trails off as he comes up behind you in the en suite bathroom. His hands land on the counter, one on either side of you. “We should fool around a little bit before we leave.” 

With his chest flush to your back and his chin propped on your shoulder, he blatantly checks you out.

You, albeit begrudgingly, find it flattering. On principle, you roll your eyes. 

You snort. “Funny." 

Sarcasm pinches his face as he unintelligibly mocks you. 

Whatever witty retort he had died on his tongue when you lean forward to put some eyeliner in your waterline, inadvertently pushing the curve of your backside right into his growing bulge. 

Matthew turns you to face him without warning. 

The kohl pencil goes flying, dotting the pristine space as it tumbles to the floor. Its final resting place is unknown; you’ll follow the smudge-crumbs later. 

Later, when he doesn’t have you pressed tight between the harsh edge of the counter and his chest. 

Later, when the dull ache in your arched back dissipates. 

Later, when his attraction isn’t so painfully tangible. 

Later, when he isn’t looking at you the way he is now.  

You’re sinking in a shade of blue you don’t recognize. It’s stormy, vast and disquieting. Like any collision, you’re unable to tear your eyes away even though you know you should. It betrays an aura of foreboding, yet somehow, Matthew’s charged gaze carries a soothing effect. It's hypnotic in an stomach-twisting way. 

“I’m not laughing, sweetheart.” He breathes the words through the slight part in your lips, his voice rich and thick like honey. 

“W-We need to be quick—” 

Matthew buries his face in the sweet-smelling crook of your neck. Intent on shutting you up, he succeeds with infuriating ease once he’s latched onto your throat. He nips and sucks whenever you protest, and soon, you don’t even bother trying anymore.

Why lie and deny when what you want feels this fucking good? 

When your nails dig impatient little half-moons into his forearms, Matthew bares his teeth with a triumphant hiss.  

He grins against your skin, humming atop your erratic pulse. 

“Better hurry up and spread ‘em, then.” 

Matthew’s between your dangling boots as soon as you’ve hoisted yourself onto the counter. Kneading the soft skin of your thighs, inching up and in with eager hands, he doesn’t slow or stop until the white Self-Titled sundress is bunched up in the hinge of your hips.

“That’s my girl.” 

III. it’s delicate…

“All Tequila, No Crime” isn’t as diabolical of a cocktail as it sounds. 

Spending $100+ to taste test it and three other signature mixed drinks is. 

A robbery, if you ask him. 

What's downright criminal, though, is your inability to finish a single one. A “Last Great American G&T” with a few sips missing, a half-finished “Midnight Mule,” and a watered-down “Blue Debut” sit abandoned amongst an assortment of sweet treats and small bites. 

As he waits for what he ordered, Matthew picks at the vibrant fruit salad. He’s about to pluck a honeydew star from the pile stacked high in a bowl fashioned from a watermelon rind when the back of his neck prickles. 

“Knock it off.”

You blink, bemused. 

Matthew, having watched your reaction in a reflection, rolls his eyes. 

Back still to you, he clarifies. “You promised you wouldn’t make this a whole thing.”  

“I'm not.” 

“You've never been a good liar.” 

“Isn't that a good thing?” you deflect. 

You turn your attention back to the lively stadium, watching as it fills with laughter and anticipation. You're hoping he'll take the hint and drop it, that he won't pull the night apart at the seams. 

He abandons the sprawling buffet table in favor of the plush recliner beside yours. Once settled, Matthew slides a plate of your favorites across the small table between you. 

“Don't change the subject.” 

The cement under your boots makes for a captive audience as you sail into dicey weather. “I know—I know what I said, and I'm really trying my best, but can you blame me? I mean, c’mon, Matty. Look where we are.”

“A Taylor Swift concert?” Matthew does what he does best.

You know his tells and his tricks. You indulge neither. 

“My first Taylor Swift concert. Ever. I came out of The Queue From Hell empty-handed and shit out of luck, yet here we are. The Eras Tour. And not way up the nosebleeds or side-stage with an obstructed view. A suite. A private, fifteen-person suite—for just us. You did that.” 

Matthew shifts uncomfortably. He scratches the shadow clinging to his jaw. He looks everywhere, at everything. Everything except you. 

“So?” 

The probe is firm yet reluctant but not inherently dismissive. 

“So,” you heave a labored sigh of unease. “—so, how could I not? This ‘whole thing’ is the kindest, most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. It means the absolute world, and I know you know that.” 

A thick, paralyzing quiet descends on the balcony. 

He does know that, which is what makes it so terrible. He knows, he knows, he knows. Matthew knows; he wishes he didn’t. For years, he successfully kept it at bay because… because you can’t just un-know something like that. Even entertaining the thought felt too big a risk. It jeopardizes the delicate peace only willful ignorance can safeguard. 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, sweetheart. Can't have you emptying the tank before the show even starts,” Matthew teases as he thumbs the tears away. “How d’ya know I didn’t pull some strings just to put an end to your perpetual pity party?” 

He’s trying to lighten the mood. Hoping to inch away from the emotionally dense zone of uncharted territory, hoping you’ll have mercy—or take pity—on him and his plight of avoidance. 

And you do.  

Ever the benevolent people-pleaser. 

You take your foot off the gas. You retreat to the status quo. You yield, but for a good cause.

Good and right aren’t synonymous. And we can’t will them to be. So, instead, we choose our battles and bide our time. 

There’s no reason to rain on tonight’s parade. 

“Thank you,” you acquiesce.  

Mathew smiles. 

This ceasefire, this tacit truce, is as fragile as rice paper. It feels as though, if someone pushed too hard from either side, they'd go right through it unchallenged. But, for now, it's enough. 

He takes your hand and squeezes. “And for the hundredth time, you’re welcome.” 

IV. it’s been a long time coming…

He gets it now. 

Truthfully, he understood after the very first bridge of the night. There’s just something about the intimacy of the spectacle; it's… indescribable. With thousands from all walks of life gathered in a single stadium to celebrate nearly two decades of singing, crying, and growing up together, it wasn't difficult to get swept up in the magic. 

For someone who’d consider themselves fan-adjacent at best, he wasn’t expecting to feel much of anything, let alone goosebumps, misty-eyed. 

He can’t even imagine how extraordinarily special it must’ve been for you, a lifelong fan, to partake in the world’s most cinematic sing-along. To luck out with your opener of choice, to be surprised with your favorite song during the acoustic set—you could probably die happy. Matthew can still feel your tear-streaked cheek against his shoulder and your shakey hand clasped in his. And he’ll remember the warmth of your joy for the rest of his life. 

He, however, doesn't have to imagine how much the experience took out of you. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t pass out on me yet, sweetheart.” 

You’re one minute into a five-minute Uber ride, and he’s already had to nudge you twice. 

Curled against the cool window like a cat, you groggily protest, “I’m not. My mind is alive, promise.”  

He snorts. “Then why’re your eyes shut?” 

“They aren’t!” 

They absolutely are. 

Matthew tugs you across his lap with a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Sounds like you need to get yours checked, Matthew Brendan,” you quip into his chest before drowning the backseat in delirious giggles. 

In the golden glow of the streetlamps, his smirk rests against your temple. 

Here is the moment. There have been hundreds like it in the years since you met. Lighthearted banter and late night laughter spill over into the early morning hours, all of it utter nonsense he wouldn’t trade for anything. It should be perfectly ordinary, but it's music to his ears. 

The cowboy boots he swore he wouldn’t carry home rest against his similarly sore calves. The ziplock bag, once bursting at the seams with bracelets, is empty and folded in his back pocket, and his arm is full from elbow to wrist. The glitter he contested clings to him like a second skin, there to stay. 

And he doesn’t hate it. 

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[addieyaps]

coffee - leah williamson

summary: inspired by the song ‘coffee’ by chappell roan.

warnings: angst, slightly suggestive content.

1.8k words.

leah williamson x reader.

Life looked a lot different these days. It seemed so long ago since the last time you’d genuinely smiled, since the last time you’d said you were fine and had actually meant it.

It’d been three months since you and your girlfriend of two years, Leah Williamson, had broken up, and yet it felt like you’d lived a lifetime without her. You were still awfully aware of the cold, empty spot beside you when you woke in the mornings, the absence of Leah’s presence at the dining table worsening that shard of grief you felt in your gut. That was your sanctuary, the place where you used to talk about your days and share secrets and stories and giggle about the most ridiculous things. Every day you went into the kitchen, still hoping to see Leah already up and dressed in her Arsenal training kit, pouting when you’d walked in on her making breakfast for you when she’d wanted to surprise you in bed. You’d leave for work every day and found you were still startled to see that her coat was not hanging next to yours on its usual peg, the framed pictures of the two of you no longer hanging on the walls.

It was as if there’d never been any trace of another person residing in this house with you, but the memories were still engrained in your mind, and the pain was unlike anything you’d experienced before.

‘Can't meet you for dinner at the Italian place

It's where I met your family, some words were exchanged

I'd suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn Street but

You'd buy me a drink and we know where that leads, so’

Getting out of the house didn’t help, especially when everywhere you went you were reminded of the places you’d visited together, the memories you’d made. As you turned the corner, your eyes fell on the small Italian restaurant where you’d met Leah’s family for the first time. You remembered how anxious you were that night, how desperate you were to make a good impression. You’d stood in the mirror, staring at your reflection and debating whether or not you needed to change again when Leah had entered the bedroom, snaking her arms around your waist and planting a trail of kisses on your neck and shoulder.

“You look gorgeous,” she’d said, resting her chin on your shoulder and grinning at you in the mirror. You immediately felt yourself relax a little, a smile creeping its way onto your face. Leah had always been good at reassuring you, able to calm your racing heart and spiralling thoughts in a way no one else could. She’d insisted that her family were going to love you, and she’d been right. They’d been so warm and welcoming from the moment you entered the restaurant, and you eased into conversation with them as if you’d known them for years.

And how could they not love you when it was evident how much Leah adored you? She couldn’t take her eyes off you and insisted on holding your hand the entire evening, running her thumb soothingly over your skin, the gesture bringing a smile to your lips.

‘I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you want me, I know that's a lie

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place.’

A month after you and Leah had split, you’d unintentionally ran into each other at a mutual friend’s party. You’d intended to try and ignore her, knowing talking to her and hearing her voice and seeing her smile would just make things a million times harder. You’d overestimated your own willpower, though, soon finding yourself in Leah’s company once again.

She asked if you wanted to go back to hers for a drink, and like a fool you’d said ‘yes’. A couple of glasses of wine later, and you two were making out on Leah’s sofa, tangled up in each other’s arms. “I still want you, you know?” Leah had whispered, her hands trailing down to undo the buttons on your jeans.

“Then why did you leave?” You asked breathlessly.

Leah paused, her eyes shooting upwards to meet your gaze. “y/n…” She sighed. You studied her face, noticing the sadness in her eyes. How had you not noticed it sooner, how broken she was? You’d been so caught up in your own pain and despair that you’d failed to consider how she was holding up.

Leah pulled away, and immediately you missed her being close to you, not realising just how much you’d craved her touch. “I think it’s best if you leave,” Leah said, looking at anything but you, “before we do something we both regret.”

‘You said let's do the park 'cause I love the park

That may be true but god forbid it gets dark

Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions

But I'd rather feel something than nothing at all, so’

You’d wasted no time in calling an Uber for yourself, fleeing from Leah’s apartment and trying desperately not to let the tears flow in the back of the car. It just wasn’t fair — how could she do this to you?! You’d been naive enough to think that you and Leah were for forever, that you’d end up getting married and growing old together, content in each other’s company until the end of time.

A few days after the party, you saw Leah again. This time the pair of you crossed paths in the park where you were walking your neighbour’s dog. You tried to act like you hadn’t seen Leah, staring straight ahead and picking up the pace, but Leah caught up to you easily enough, her hand circling around your wrist and bringing you to a halt. You whipped your head around. “Leave me alone,” you told her. You’d wanted to act tough, but your voice faltered, and it sounded like you were pleading more than you were telling.

You snatched your wrist from her grasp and started to walk away, but still Leah followed you. “y/n, wait!” She called. “I just wanted to apologise —”

“For what?” You demanded. “For your actions the other night? Or for breaking my heart?”

Leah’s eyes brimmed with tears that she quickly blinked away. Her gaze fell to the ground, unable to look at you and the mixture of heartbreak and anger displayed on your face. “Both…I’m so sorry, y/n.” And then she turned and walked away without another word, leaving you with another emotion you hadn’t yet experienced in your heartache — anger.

‘I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you're sorry, I know that's a lie

If I didn't trust you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your-’

Back to the present day, and you were walking through the familiar streets, trying not to think about how the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from the bakery reminded you of the many mornings you and Leah shared croissants and coffee before you dropped her off at training. The city was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby restaurants. You paid no attention to it, lost in thought with your bag of groceries in hand.

That was when you turned the corner and suddenly collided with someone.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” You exclaimed, looking up to apologise. When you saw who you’d had the misfortune of bumping into, your breath caught in your throat. “Leah?” You said, your voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“Y/n?” Leah’s eyes widened, a flicker of something — sadness, perhaps — passing through them. For a second the pair of you just stood there staring at each other, you feeling as though you’d forgotten how to breathe, Leah awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, and both of you unable to form a sentence.

“How have you been?” Leah asked eventually.

“I’ve been…good,” the lie rolled off your tongue easily enough, you had grown accustomed to it by now, after all, “busy with work and everything. What about you?”

“Same here…busy but good. Got a game coming up this weekend.” Leah met your gaze. “I’d love it if you could make it.”

“Leah —”

“Sorry, no…that was silly of me. Um…” Leah shook her head and sighed. “How about we go get some coffee? There’s a little cafe just down the street, you know the one where we had our first date?”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” You asked, your voice gentler now.

“Probably not…but I’ve missed you, y/n.”

You contemplated her offer, every part of you desperately wanting to say yes. Realistically, though, you had to weigh up the potential consequences that might arise from agreeing to have coffee with Leah, remembering how much harder it was for you after you’d found yourself in Leah’s arms once again the night of your friend’s party. Seeing her again was just a reminder of everything you wanted, but everything you could not have. You had to say no.

‘We've done this before

And I don't need it anymore’

“We can’t, Leah,” you said eventually. Your heart broke at the sight of the sullen look on Leah’s face. “I mean you remember what happened last time —”

“It’s just coffee, y/n.”

“I know. But I don’t know if I can trust myself not to get too attached. I can’t let myself go there, Leah. Not again.” Your voice conveyed the ache you felt in your heart, the weeks of emotional turmoil you’d had to endure as you tried your best to carry on as if nothing had happened, as if you weren’t grieving what could have been. “Losing you is the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

Leah didn’t say anything. She knew deep down that you were right, and she knew that she deserved this rejection, that she only had herself to blame for the pain she’d put you through. She gave you a sad smile — God you missed how warm it used to be — and nodded her head. “I understand…”

You stepped forwards and kissed her cheek. “Take care of yourself, Leah.”

“You too, Y/N.”

It took every ounce of strength you had to walk away, to leave her there and not completely crumble. And as you crossed the street, you realised it was likely you’d never get over Leah. No matter how much time would pass, you’d probably never cease to question what could have been if things had been different, if you’d only fought harder to make things work.

‘So let's not do coffee, let's not even try

It’s better we leave it and give it some time

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

'Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee

It's never just coffee.’

[kotton-kandy953]

❏ 𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀 !

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 love interest ꒱ . . . yandere ! modern ! college au ! albedo x fem ! reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 format ꒱ . . . oneshot

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 warnings ꒱ . . . lowkey mad scientist albedo, obsessive themes, plenty of mentions of death, stalking mention, suggestive themes, suicide mentions, yandere themes

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 synopsis ꒱ . . . In which your academic rival’s plan to kill you backfires in the worst way possible.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 authors note ꒱ . . . this was going to be in my highschool Au but it made more sense for me to put him and the reader in college. I had this idea before the 5.6 trailer came out so both of these having to do with albedo and murder is a crazy coincidence.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 word count ꒱ . . . 3.3k

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝙴𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙰 (noun): ᴀ ᴅᴇʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ

The mere thought of you drove him crazy.

Well, “crazy” is an understatement — you drive him half-insane. Albedo absolutely and utterly despised every single thing about you.

He hated how disorganized you were, how smart you were, how stubborn you were. He could just go on and on…

Albedo has held this resentment towards you since high school, but you deciding to go to the same college as him really threw him off. To make matters even worse, you two had dorms right beside each other. It felt almost as if you were everywhere, as if you were going to haunt him for eternity.

And because of this, Y/n, he wanted you dead.

And the craziest part is that Albedo isn’t even a violent person! Although, he couldn’t help but find joy in the thought of hearing word of your passing and knowing that he was the one responsible.

It took a lot of planning, light stalking, and stealing a few things from the science lab to complete, but it was worth it. It was all going to be worth it once you disappear.

And disappear how, you ask? Well it’s simple: He was going to make a potion to kill you.

Of course, he could’ve just bought some toxic drugs or what not, but why not use his talents? And where would a college student find lethal poison anyway? At a gas station? He needed something that would kill instantly and efficiently, so what’s better than making of yourself?

Nevertheless, Albedo has made many, many, potions and whatnot before but nothing like this. Nothing to inflict harm upon another.

Now, he may be a little… mentally unstable… but murder is still a stretch for the Biochemistry Major. He just had a vision of your dead body lying on your dorm floor and he wanted to make it a reality. Is that too much to ask?

It was in the middle of the night when Albedo laid out his science equipment all on his desk as he began to work. The thought crossed his mind that there might be a rule against making poisons for the person you despise the most in your dorm, but he highly doubted that.

After about an hour or so of following the instructions for the potion he wrote down in his used notebook, he held the vial of the toxic, pink-purple liquid up to his face as he eyed it suspiciously. Isn’t it supposed to be a more indigo color…?

He must’ve added something wrong, but he failed to notice that. When reaching over to grab his pen to take note of his observations, his hand slipped and the vial shattered as it hit the hard, wooden floor.

“Oh Archons-” He flinched as the glass shattered as it hit the floor. When he kneeled down to cautiously pick up the broken shards of glass and throwing them in the trash with gloved fingers, he noticing a strange fragrance filling the room. It smelled vaguely like… flowers? No, maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter!

Albedo’s eyes widened in panic as he stood up to his feet, feeling a bit dizzy, as he reached over the desk for his notebook.

The handwriting in front of him grew harder and harder to read. His vision was starting to blur, then came a brutal headache.

At this point, even a preschooler could tell that something was horribly wrong. He fell to his knees, his hands moving up to his head, pulling at his dirty blond hair in pain. He hyperventilated, the concentration of the potions’ aroma in the air being too strong.

Don’t tell me I’m going to die here… he thought to himself.

Did he somehow manage to kill himself in his attempt to murder you?

Then, he blacked out.

Abdeo’s been out cold for about six hours until he finally wakes again.

The strange fragrance of the mysterious potion is now gone. He was lying flat on his face on his dorm room floor, not the most comfortable way to be sleeping for six hours straight.

Nevertheless, he sits up rather quickly, that aching migraine from last night hitting him like a bus.

He’s so glad today’s a Saturday.

His original plan for today was to follow you to that café you go to every Saturday morning, put a few drops of the potion in your drink, then watch everything else play out. But, as you can see, his plain had been foiled.

“It’ll take me months to find someone who sells these same chemicals…” he gripes, not even touching on the fact that he still had to return the things he’s stolen from the science lab, but that’ll be fine.

After about 20 minutes of cleaning up the equipment he had used last night, Albedo decided it’d be best for him to get some fresh air. You know, inhaling toxic fumes could be detrimental to your health.

Deciding that it’d be best to get some fresh air outside, Albedo leaves his dorm.

Upon opening the door and stepping out the room, the first person he sees is you. He stopped right in his tracks, feeling this strange, tingly feeling all over his body.

Had he never really… looked at you before? Or has he been too busy hating you to even realize that…

“…you’re gorgeous…” he mutters quietly, not sure if he was talking more to himself or you.

It would have been obvious to anyone who walked by that he had been sitting there staring at you for a while. His gaze was intense, yet brimming with fascination. He had never — never looked at you like this before. And it was making you a bit uncomfortable.

His lips parted, but what left his mouth was somewhere close to complete silence. What is wrong with him??

Pursing your lips together, you narrowed your eyes at the blond and walked right passed him into your dorm.

What just happened…? He blinked. He had never, ever, even thought of saying such a thing about you. Albedo calling you “gorgeous” was not exactly what he was expecting to leave his mouth right then.

He ran back into his dorm and shut the door behind him. Feeling l his face burning red, he refused to believe that it was because of you. No — it was just hot in here… so, so, hot- maybe he should open a window?

Stumbling over his own feet, he opens the window to his bedroom. He may should have done that earlier…

Once the windows were open, he looked down at his sweetly palms. His hands were shaking. His face probably didn’t show it, but he was freaking out.

Why did I suddenly feel so — so strange around her…? Is this a side affect of the potion?

“Don’t tell me I…” his eyes widened, his blood growing cold.

“…No, no, that’s impossible. Love potions don’t exist — do they?”

He wanted to deny it with every fiber of his being, but the discolor of the potion and the strange infatuation with you all fell in place together too easily.

But everyone makes mistakes, right?

Even if that “mistake” is accidentally making a love potion out of what he was going to use to kill his rival, accidentally using it on himself, then falling in love with said rival.

Throwing his head back with a sigh, he ran his fingers through his messy, blond hair. Archons, that dammed headache was coming back again. Is that a side affect of the potion as well? But at this point, that is the last thing in his mind right now.

It’s around 10 in the morning now and Albedo is this close to losing it.

He was already on the brink of insanity before, but that potion did something to him that couldn’t he reversed.

He laid in bed all day thinking, maybe I just have to sleep it off. But he couldn’t fall asleep. He couldn’t keep his eyes closed — not when you were on his mind. His splitting headache wasn’t helping either…

He thought about you endlessly, how could he not? You were just so beautiful and- and… Stop it. Just stop. I can’t feed into my… current “obsession” or it’ll only grow worse.

Albedo tossed and turned in pain and discomfort as he wondered what you were doing right now, at this very second.

Were you okay? Were you out with your friends or in your dorm? He never really payed that much attention to your personality traits to determine if you’re more extroverted or introverted…

Were you even thinking about him?

“Archon’s know what’s happening to me… just why can’t I get you out my mind…?” Was the last thing he said before getting off his bed and began frantically searching through the items on his messy desk full of his own (and some stolen) science equipment and used notebooks.

He had taken one too many painkillers over the past few hours for his headache, but they barely affected him.

It took him until his dorm room was, well, a mess, and his headache to come back for him to realize what actually had happened.

“I made a love potion didn’t I?”

As he sat in the chain before his desk, his face fell in his hands as an exasperated sigh left his lips.

But this explanation is the only logical one out there. You were the first person he made eye contact with since he inhaled the gas let off by the potion. Not only that, but he must’ve added an extra ingredient — which he still cannot find by the way — in it by mistake, causing it to turn a strange purple-pink color.

Now, this may raise the question, “but aren’t love potions supposed to be consumed to take affect on someone?” Well, the large, capitalized words written above the recipe for the potion Albedo failed to make speaks volumes, “DO NOT INHALE OR INGEST THIS POTION IN ANY FORM.” “Ingest” includes inhaling, consuming, and entering the body in anyway.

Finally coming to terms with what’s happened to him, Albedo shows a look of apparent defeat on his face. How could he make such a mistake…?

Well, at least he wouldn’t be a suspect of murder.

Opening his journal again, he started adding extra notes to the page about the potion before getting a bit distracted and beginning to add little drawings on the paper.

He’d rather do that than clean his room anyway.

Without even realizing, he had drawn a picture of you on the next page. You even looked beautiful in his art style… if only he could see your pretty face just one more time— “-Nope. No. Stop it.” He shut his the small book in his hands, feeling the blood rush to his face again.

If he wants the affects of this potion to wear off sooner, he needs to stop thinking or talking about you in general, any means necessary.

Albedo rips the page from the book and tossed it into the nearby trash. The trash with a burned hole in the side of it from a failed experiment from months ago…

He really needed some sleep. Yes, sleep! Maybe he could just sleep this potion off, that way… that way he can get back hating you.

Maybe sleep wasn’t the best decision.

Firstly, it was four in the morning the time he woke up. The sun wasn’t even up yet.

Reaching over on his nightstand to grab his phone to check the time, the first thing he thought of, of course, was you.

“So this potion casts longer than a day… great,” he sighs as sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his pretty, icy blue eyes. “You’re just infecting me mind like a disease aren’t you, Y/n…” he typed in his password, having the fleeting thought of changing it to your birthday.

Speaking of you, Albedo knows all of your social media accounts. As a matter of fact, he has you blocked on all of them except for one.

He only has you unblocked on that one particular social for all of the wrong reasons.

Well, for one, it was for him to stalk your posts, followers, and reposts to find out about your class (and personal) schedule. It was absolutely mandatory that he needed that information to determine when was the best time for him to… get rid of you.

But that plan is long gone now. Mainly because he’d now rather kill himself to end this archons forsaken curse than to ever bring harm upon you. But, unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to die right now.

“My goodness, you’re divine…” He quietly muttered under his breath as he scrolled through the different photos of you and your college friends. He recognized quite a few of them but just bypassed them.

His eyes lingered on one particular photo of you until he realized what he was doing. It felt wrong — feeling this way about you, that is.

Albedo desired, he silently longed for you and only you. To see your face again, your real face, to listen to your sweet voice start up an argument with him. Watching your arms cross over your chest as your beautiful eyes stared at him with such hatred and annoyance.

Albedo’s fantasies were rudely interrupted by someone knocking at his door. When getting up to answer it, somewhere deep, deep inside of him desperately wanted it to be you — but it seems the Archon’s didn’t shine their favors upon him today.

He looked through the peephole and his eyes landed on the long, black ears sticking up from his short, black hair.

“Oh, it’s just Tighnari,” the blond muttered, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Although he enjoyed Tighnari’s presence, he isn’t exactly… you.

Tighnari is a Botany major who graduated from the same high school as Albedo; he is also one of the solitary alchemists’ very few friends.

With a disappointed sigh, he opened the door.

It took only Tighnari’s concerned expression for Albedo to realize what he must’ve looked like. He hasn’t paid that much attention to himself ever since he woke up on the floor the other morning. Oh, and don’t even get me started on how disheveled his room was.

He’s a relatively clean person, but going crazy with love can do something to a person. Especially someone who’s already a bit messed up in the head.

The two males stared at each other for a bit until Albedo says quietly, “Oh- I wasn’t expecting visitors…” he pressed his lips together as he raked his fingers through his messy, blonde hair.

“Yeah, I can tell.” his ears drooped down a bit as he sighed, “I’ve been calling you all day yesterday — and today! I assumed you were just out somewhere but without your phone? That was unlikely.”

Call? When did I receive a call…? “You called me?”

“Yeah, the other night? You borrowed my notes and I kinda need them back…”

Albedo blinked in confusion before his eyes widened in realization, “Oh, yes… I’ll go get them right now.”

Albedo rummaged through the miscellaneous items on his desk until he came back with a few papers in his hands. “Yeah, I completely forgot I had them,” and completely forgot to copy them down as well…

“It’s alright,” he gave the Albedo a small smile. “Why do you look like you’ve been asleep for five years, it’s only nine AM. You’re usually up by no—“

“-nine AM!?”

“Yes, I- did you not know?” Tighnari’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He sighed, “It’s- whatever. Have a good day, Albedo.”

Before he could say goodbye, Tighnari was already gone.

Albedo walked back into his dorm room and slammed the door shut behind him, not really caring about how loud he was. He stood with his back against the door and his hand lingering on the doorknob for an extra moment or two as his mind ran wildly with thoughts.

“I should’ve told him about the potion… or maybe I made the right decision by biting my tongue.”

By Monday morning, Albedo forced himself to go to class. But he wasn’t exactly prepared — mentally, I mean. He did stay up all last night staring at photos of you (and cleaning his room), but he wasn’t as tired as he thought he would be.

This potion is really taking a toll on my mental health…

Before he left his dorm, Albedo stood in front of the mirror above his sink and took a long look at himself. How couldn’t he have ever noticed the dark circles under his eyes or how messy his hair was.

But he didn’t care. He was just going to class and coming back. Nothing more, nothing less.

With a sigh, he left his door and locked the door behind him. Before he turned to walk away, his eyes drifted over to your door. The image of you the morning he woke up from his unconscious state came back to him. Oh, how he wanted to see you again.

Good thing you’re in his first class.

He sat in far back corner of the classroom, deliberately trying sitting away from everyone else. His face rested in his palm, his missing sleep catching up to him, his eyelids growing heavy until he noticed someone walking by to get to their seat.

It was you. You paid no mind to him, but his eyes watched your every move even as you took his pen, his only pen, off his desk. It was but a fleeting moment when your skin grazed his hand to snatch away his pen.

It took him a moment or two to really realize that you had taken his only pen. But it didn’t matter to him, he wasn’t going to take notes anyway…

Looking over at you, you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. You held the bottom end of the pen between your teeth, obviously teasing him.

Obviously, you expected Albedo, well, pre-love potion Albedo, to seethe in anger, but he only stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face. His pale blue eyes staring straight into you from across the lecture hall.

What’s up with him…? You’d think.

When the lecture began, his eyes were still stuck in your direction. He could only see the side of your face, but that was enough for him. His mind went blank as you chewed on the pen, his pen. Were you still teasing him? Or is it only a habit?

How could he focus on whats being said by the professor when he’s imagining all of the things he could be doing to you right now- stop it! Stop thinking of her like that!

Albedo let out a shuddering sigh before pressing his red face into his palms resting on the desk before him. Albedo is usually a very calm and composed person, but not around you apparently.

In an attempt to calm himself down, he searches through his backpack for a good few minutes for something to write with until he finds an old pencil from the beginning of the school year. “I thought I had lost this,” he muttered.

It didn’t take long for where his notes were supposed to be is replaced by yet another drawing of you. As a matter of fact, all that he’s been drawing lately is you… but we should all know the reason as to why by now.

When Albedo drew you, he studied every single detail of your beautiful face, and having a front row seat to you made this even easier.

When class was over, Albedo signed with relief. But he did have a few more classes left for the day… but they could wait.

He had a more important person on his schedule today…

After packing up all his things, he followed right after of you out the lecture hall. Archon’s, you were divine. You even smelled divine…

The mere thought of you drove him crazy.

This is the longest fanfic I’ve posted onto tumblr yet so yippie!

If you want a part two, I might make one :3 !!

[voidlesscreator]

There's a boy in shards that just crashed through the kitchen window.

Normally Alfred would be on the defensive at an intruder, much less one that shattered the glass of the kitchen window and got glass everywhere. But he was caught off guard by how young the intruder looked and the fact that he had two crystal-like breaks where his legs and one arm used to be, with even more hairline and large cracks and breaks on the rest of him.

The boy(?) had tumbled into the polished floor and a bag of what looked to be green and black crystals fell out of his remaining arm, the boy himself looking around the kitchen almost frantically before stopping on Alfred.

"Help- please-" Was all the boy said before passing out on the floor, definitely injured but not bleeding. Alfred went over to the boy without much thought, assessing the amount of damage the boy had sustained.

It was bad given that the boy seemed to be made of the crystals and his three broken off limbs were in the bag of crystals just in multiple sections- Alfred thinks that he could see a pinkie finger and an index in the mess of shards.

After the quick assessment, Alfred got to work. He knew that Master Bruce and the children would be more concerned about where the crystal boy had come from before even attempting to piece him back together, but Alfred didn't think he would have to worry about that- so taking him to the servant quarters that were mostly unused except for his own room was the option he chose. Going into the laundry room to grab one of the clean sheets was the first thing he did, in order to gather the boy's pieces to easily transport them- Alfred could deal with putting him together once he got the boy to a better spot than the kitchen floor.

(During this time, Alfred wonders if the boy minded doing some housework or gardening- he seemed desperate to get away from something so maybe?)

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

[fieldofdaisiies]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart

ship: Azriel x Reader type: angst word count: 2,4k  warnings: curse words, mentions of a one night stand, unexpected pregnancy summary: It was just a one night stand, or that is what you thought... fic masterlist

"The baby will have wings!" 

Your hands tremble. And they tremble so much the plate you are holding slips out them, and then shatters when it hits the floor. Splinters fly everywhere, but your best friend is quick to shove you away.

She is faster than you, gently shoving you away before you can lean down to collect the shards. "Not in your current state! Let me do this."

You huff. "I am pregnant, not fragile or ill," you say, still dried tears on your cheeks, and more burning behind your eyes. 

"Yes, with a winged baby, because this fool did not pay attention." There is so much fury inside of your best friend, you have never seen this side of her before, her voice drips with venom. 

"For making a baby it always needs two people. I am not innocent in this." You crouch down and help your best friend collect the shards of broken glass and—

"Fuck!" You lift your index finger to your mouth, licking the droplet of blood away. 

"I told you to let me do this, you are hurting yourself and—" "And what? They baby will still have wings and I will still be pregnant. I just cut my finger, nothing dramatic."

You swallow thickly, slumping onto the ground. You immediately regret your tone and snapping at your best friend. She only wants to help and be there for you…

But it is so much to deal with and then the hormones just intensify everything you are feeling.

The fear, the apprehension about the baby having with wings and the prospect of having to raise the child by yourself, should you survive the birth, finally reach the surface. You tried hide these emotion for so long, but now you fail — they all bubble up, overwhelming you.

You lean against the kitchen counter behind you, pulling your knees up and fold your hands over your face.

Then the damn breaks, tears running out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you sob into your hands. 

"I am so scared," you bawl. 

Your best friend has already scooted over, careful of the broken pieces of porcelain, and wraps her arm around your shoulders. She pulls you to her chest, letting you cry into her shirt. "I know that the babe has wings, the healer confirmed it. And I am just working in this little shop, I don't earn enough to take care of the child alone."

Your tears wet her shirt, and your best friend holds you tightly, her hand clasping your upper arm. She is becoming your anchor, the only thing you can hold onto in this moment.

"It was so foolish. He said he took the tonic. I also drank the tea the same morning, and neither of those things worked. Conceiving for fae is so difficult, why…"

Your voice breaks and you can't finish your sentence, your throat is dry, burns and the back of your mouth aches. 

"It wasn't foolish. You were both careful, and it just happened." Your best friend's voice is softer now, although inside of her a burning fire of fury about the shadowsinger putting a baby that could harm you inside of you. It could cost you your life and she would never forgive him for that.

You exhale a long breath when you lift your head a little, still leaning onto your friend. You rest your head against her shoulder, staring at the window opposite you. 

A veil of grey is being drawn over the sky, dark clouds passing by — rain is about to start. You keep staring at the window, sitting in silence as the first raindrops start to fall, landing gently on the window pane. You watch as the rain intensifies, and the sky darkens further until heavy rain pours down and wind whips agains the windows and the walls of the apartment building you are living in. 

The atmosphere outside mirrors the whirlwind inside of you, the storm brewing there, the cold and gloomx atmosphere.

There are so many emotions. And these emotions, mostly fear and nervousness, mingle with the hormones that actually make you so very happy that your are growing a little babe inside of you, but at the dame time so sad that the child will have to grow up without a father.

The whole previous evening you spent staring at your round belly in the mirror, sobbing silently to yourself.

With the big wool sweaters you always wear the belly is barely visible, but when naked, one can obviously see the growing bump. 

You best friend draws in a deep inhale and leans her head against the top of yours. 

"You need to talk to him," she says in a soft voice. "And before you protest, I say so because first of all, he has a right to know. And secondly, and most importantly, he might be able to help you."

You sniff loudly. "How should he help me?"

"The High Lord, who he is close with, has a son with wings. And our High Lady is also only fae, so there must be a possibility."

"What if he wants nothing to do with me?"

"Then you at least tried."

"Don't you think I will only be hurt more?"

You lift your head to look at her. There is a small smile on her lips, one that conveys support and warmth, her eyes shining with empathy.

She shakes her head. "You still have me. I won't leave you alone with this. I never would. But you still have to tell him."

You don't want to do it, you don't want to face Azriel, don't want to tell him, but you know she is right. You have to do it. He has a right to know.

This was a one night stand. 

You somehow caught the male's attention in a small bar in Velaris, and somehow he ended up in your bed. When you woke up, Azriel slipped into his trousers and out of your flat within a few moments. He was gone without a word, disappeared into the shadows, and you haven't heard from him since. You don't even know how to contact him. 

You don't know where he lives? Does he live with the High Lord? Or in this huge house on the mountain? With the general of the Illyrian armies and his mate?

"I don't know what to say to him," you whisper. 

The rain outside intensifies. Your friend uncurls her arm from around your shoulder, bringing it forward so she can clasp your hand in hers. 

She places a soft kiss to the top of your head and in a calm voice she says, "Tell him what you told me. That you don't understand how it happened and that you are afraid and want nothing more than his help."

"What if I want more than that?" You bite back a sob and turn your head a little.

"What if I want a little part of his heart. For the baby. If it—if we survive this, I want my baby to have a father. I want my baby to know its father." A single tear slips our of your eye and your friend quickly wipes it away with her thumb. 

"That is something to think about in the future. You need to think about yourself now, sweetie. You matter now, everything else is open for the future."

You nod, trying to agree with her, but the thoughts about the possibility of the baby never meeting its father are gnawing on you. 

And they keep gnawing on you the whole night where you lie awake, shifting and turning, your back aching, and tears still wetting your cheeks and pillow. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Cold sweat coats your back, your palms. Your knees wobble, and your whole body trembles as you lift your hand, drawing in a deep inhale. Then another. And another. Your hand rests on the cool door handle, but you can't bring yourself to pull it down. 

He really came.

You can hardly believe it. He got your letter, and he is truly here. Until a few moments ago, you doubted it. You did not think he would really follow your invite. You were very vague in your letter, only mentioned that if he remembers you you would have something important to discuss with him. It could have been a trap, but he must have recognised the urgency in your wording, must habe known he could trust you.

Drawing in another breath, you finally pull down the handle and your lips part as your eyes land on him. 

He is…still the most beautiful male you have ever seen in your life, covered in darkness and shadows, expression stoic, eyes glowing with curiosity.

But he came!

"You came," you whisper, voice trembling.

Your heart beats in your throat, hammering so fast and hard you think it might burst right through your ribcage. 

It was just a one-night stand, a fleeting moment of passion, but you still remember him so vividly. How he touched you, how he kissed you, how he held you. And how he left. You felt used and sad after it, but you shouldn't have. Both of you only wanted fun for a night, but still it somehow hurt when he left.

"You called." His voice is flat, no emotion in it as he speaks. His face is not necessarily cold, but nonchalant, emotionless.

Azriel is nothing but darkness as he stands there, shadows swirling around him, stretching out towards you.

He eyes you closely, jaw clenched slightly.

You barely know him, only know his body, but he is now connected to you in the most profound way possible. You carry a part of him inside of you. Your child. His child. 

Azriel's face is a mask of unreadable emotions, some clouds darken his eyes and you can’t tear your eyes away from his.

"I wasn't sure you if you—" "I do remember you."

Something, some unreadable emotion passes over his face, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. His hands, those scarred hands you felt all over your body, are folded behind his back, and he stands in a stance, almost like he is ready to fight whatever is about to come. A stern warrior, and not the passionate male you lay with. 

"Come in?" you say, your voice trembling slightly as you step aside to let him enter. Azriel hesitates, but eventually he walks in, gaze wary as it sweeps through the inside of your room. He is looking for possible danger, making sure the place is safe and you can't blame him for it. Your invite must have sound cryptic, he is careful and that is alright. 

"Why did you invite me?" Azriel asks, finally speaking up and taking the weight from your shoulder to open the conversation. 

You are wringing for the right words to explain it all as you lead him over to the kitchen counter. You lean against it, your gaze moving to his eyes.

You drop your glamour, and try to hold his gaze, but suddenly Azriel starts to sniff the air, his brows furrowing as he looks around him. It almost looks like understanding dawns on him, whirlwinds of emotions glowing in his eyes. He must sense it in this moment.

"I am with child!" you blurt out. 

The words are so loud in the room, they bounce off the walls and hollow through the room. Through your mind, making you feel dizzy for a second. 

You move your hand over your round belly, smoothing out the sweater, to show him the bump. 

 The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breaths. 

Azriel says nothing, his face pales, his shoulders slump, and his whole expression and posture crumbles. 

He blinks, as if trying to process what you have just revealed. Although his face is unreadable, you can see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. 

"Is it mine?" he asks and you want to face-palm him. You would do it, if it were under different circumstances. 

"Of course, it is yours. The babe has wings!"

The tone you have chosen wasn't alright, he could not have known, you could have been with other males…but why would you invite him and tell him then?

This revelation shatters him truly. Azriel begins to vehemently shake his head, like he can feel the weight of what the baby having wings means.

"No," he whispers, and then repeats the word over and over again. He brings a hand up, brushes his hair back and shakes his head again. "No, that can't be. You took the tonic, I did too. How did that happen?"

"I also don't have an explanation, I only know that I am with child now. A baby with wings." Your chin quivers, lower lip starting to tremble. You feel how your body begins to shake, blood rushing in your ears.

"And I am afraid." 

Once again the damn breaks, and a sob rips itself free.

Azriel says nothing, just stands there. 

"I understand that it is a lot to take in, that this is difficult, but I needed to tell you." 

You suck in a sharp breath, your tears tasting salty in your mouth. "I just thought you deserved to know. It was a one-night stand, and I never planned for any of this to happen, but it did, and I can't keep it a secret from you." 

You feel so vulnerable in this moment, your heart cracking open, everything inside you convulsing. 

It somehow angers you that he says nothing, but you had more time to deal with the newly learned information, he only found out now. Maybe he just needs more time to process. 

"I don't know what to say," he admits, his voice softer, and for the first time he lets his own emotions show, vulnerability flashing brightly in his eyes. "This is... unexpected. Overwhelming."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip. With the back of your hand you wipe away some tears. 

"I don't expect anything from you, I just…if the baby and I survive this, all I am asking for is a little bit of your heart. Not for me, for the babe."

Your voice is so terribly shaky, tears welling up in your eyes again as you try to hold his gaze. "I didn't expect it either," you whisper, wiping away a tear. "But I want the baby to know its father. If it ever comes to that."

Azriel is the one to suck in a breath now, the weight of his own childhood crashing down on him. Everything, every little pain when he was a child, bubbles up inside of him and his body starts to shake. 

The room is filled with a heavy silence once more. It feels like the walls are moving in on you, the room growing smaller and smaller, almost suffocating you.

As you wait for his response, your heart still races, but now it's not just with fear. There's a glimmer of hope, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he will grant you this wish and be a father for the child if it comes to that. 

"We are going to see my healer, the High Lord's healer. She knows about wings, she knows about babes with wings. You are not alone in this."

Azriel's steps are so fast, so unexpected, he hesitates for a moment, but suddenly his arms wrap around your shoulders and he embraces you tightly, his chin coming to a rest on top of your head. 

"I am not leaving you alone in this. It comes as a shock and I am sorry about my reaction, but this child is as much mine as it is yours, and it will have a part of my heart." His arm wraps around you tighter. "It will have my whole heart." 

He swallows, his chest heaving with a deep inhale and your curl your own arms around him, loud sobs ripping themselves free, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "And so will you."

~~~~~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[starrihan]

Arranged = In Love (Jaehyun Fic)

-> Pairing: Viscount! Jaehyun x Adopted Daughter, afab! Reader

-> Plot: Your cruel parents arrange you to marry the coldest, most disinterested man in the town. How do you fare when he acts no differently towards you than your parents did?

-> Genre: smut, fluff, angst, piv sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), no protection (wrap it up!), both Y/N and Jaehyun come from troubled childhoods, Jaehyun is cold and lowk misogynistic in the beginning, crying, cruel parents, arranged marriage, little brother! Woonhak, let me know if I missed anything

-> Warnings: mentions of dead parents and potentially triggering backgrounds for the characters

-> Word Count: 10,536

-> Notes: This fic was a long one and took me a little over a month to complete. It was a request from my lovely @mikk1-lol. I am so sorry this took so long, I experienced so much writers block and literally wrote this 3 different times with me completely scrapping the first 2 ideas but I had so much fun writing this! I absolutely LOVE writing royal/ renaissance AU type fics and hopefully receive more asks about them in the future!

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

He always kept his nose buried in his work. As the next Viscount of the Myung estate, he couldn’t afford any distractions. There was a lot of unfinished paperwork to attend to, many files to fill out. Not to mention the pressure his grandparents had put on him as the new head of the household not so long after the death of both his parents, soon after he became a teen. Ever since then, his chaotic and carefree spirit had slowly dwindled away, leaving him to always be a shell of the person he once was, so serious, so tightly wound. 

He was nearing his mid-20’s, the age at which most men would be concerned with finding a wife. But he never cared to find a wife— at least not this early. He had too much to worry about already, but even then, his grandparents insisted he find someone to marry. He refused to find anyone on his own, always making excuses as to why he wasn’t able to find a date. It was then that his grandfather got fed up, arranging for him to meet with different women in hopes of finding a wife. But he never paid any interest to his dates, not caring about them or what skills they possessed or what stories they wanted to share. 

He had hoped that this disinterest would stop his grandfather from finding more dates, but it only kept him going, determined to find someone for him. It was like he knew everyone from everywhere, calling ladies from many towns away in order to meet with his grandson. But as time went on, the dates became less and less, much to his appeasement. He continued to focus on his work without the worry of marriage following him around, for now. 

༄ ༄ ༄

The sound of broken glass filled your ears, the sharp noise hard to drown out. You wince, watching your mother smirk as she deliberately dropped a glass tea saucer and cup set onto the floor. 

“Oh no, looks like I dropped a plate.” 

She turned towards you, an evil glint in her eyes. 

“What are you waiting for, pest? Clean that up will you?”

You nod in understanding, walking up with a broom and dustpan, careful not to get tiny shards of glass stuck in your bare feet. 

“Well, if no one is willing to marry you, at least I can keep you as my slave forever.” 

The tears slowly fall from your eyes and onto the broken glass as your witch of a mother walks away, cackling to herself. Correction: adoptive mother. You couldn’t bear the idea that she was anything like your real mom. 

Your father had left shortly after you were born, leaving you in the care of only your mother. You didn’t know much about your father, and you never really asked any questions since whenever you would, your mother would start sobbing uncontrollably. You never asked after that, wanting to spare her from any more pain. You didn’t have much growing up. You lived in a little house with only one bedroom and a small, slim mattress that you shared with your mother. 

You were so young, but you could never forget the day your mother died. She had fallen gravely ill, ultimately resulting in her death a few short months later. The pain you felt of losing the only person that had ever loved you still hurt you to this day, almost thirteen years later. You were adopted by the Kim family, and, while not exactly royalty themselves, they were the Baron and Baroness of the town. They had mass amounts of wealth, more than you could dream of, and more rooms in their house than you could’ve ever imagined. Even though nothing could replace the home you grew up in, you sure believed this would be the best place to live. 

But seeing as you weren’t their real daughter, and the fact that they already had a son that was a bit younger than you, you were never treated as more than a servant in the house. Everyone in the town knew about the adoption and had believed that they saved you after your mother had died. They would always be praised for their kindness, pretending that they loved you so much. But behind closed doors they had no problem raising their hand against you, punishing you for mistakes all children make, but to them it was justified because you weren’t their biological daughter. 

You were at that age where marriage was on the forefront of your mind, partly because you wanted to experience real love again, but mostly because you wanted to get out of this godforsaken household. 

You empty the dustpan into the garbage can, sighing as you put everything away neatly. Your mother had put out the call that you were ready to be married, waiting for a suitor to call upon you. But it seemed that everyone in town around your age had already found someone to marry, leaving you with very limited options. 

You were very kind, yet timid, your once bouncy and bubbly personality beaten out of you through your adoptive mother’s relentless punishments and laborious tasks. But you never let it stop you from always wanting the best for everyone around you. You had never stopped being kind, especially to your younger brother, Woonhak. 

He was the only one in the house that treated you with any kind of respect. Though you didn’t see him much, seeing as your parents always favored taking him out and letting him leave the house, he would always make time at the end of the day to come see you, telling him about his adventures, allowing you to live vicariously through him. You were always thankful that you had at least one person who cared about you. 

༄ ༄ ༄

“You are to go to their house at once! I am tired of your constant pushback and attitude! There is no excuse for you anymore. You are to visit that girl and you will marry her, that is final!” 

His grandfather had really given it to him now: an arranged marriage. There was no way out of this one. He could try to fight it, but he knew nothing would come of it. 

After the constant rejections he’d given, rumors about his cold and aloof attitude had spread, with many ladies being able to corroborate each other's stories as they were true. It was to the point where no families had reached out for their daughters to marry him, all except one.

But maybe, if his search for a wife was over, he could finally get back to his work. His silence was enough of an answer for his grandfather who was still angry yet pleased with his grandson’s conformism. He made his way to the carriage, preparing himself to meet his future wife, whether he liked it or not. 

“I have set you up with the Baron’s daughter, Kim Y/N. Her mother says that she is looking to marry. You are to accept her and bring her back here, she needs to adjust to the family and you as soon as possible to speed up this process of marriage.”

He scoffed, returning to his office. He sighed, the reality of what he would soon do hitting him now. He was going to get married. 

༄ ༄ ༄

“He’s cold and uninterested. No woman has ever dated him and gotten anything out of it. But he has no choice now but to marry you, a miserable little shell of a human. Who knows? Maybe you’re made for each other. You and the apathetic Viscount, Myung Jaehyun.” 

Your viper of a mother says to you, sitting back in her chair before sipping at her cup of tea. You run to your room, tears in your eyes. Of course you had heard rumors from the servants around the house about Myung Jaehyun, about how terrible of a suitor he is. How he never cares about the lady in front of him, keeping to himself and only responding in short phrases and sentences. You had always wished to be freed from this house, but was it worth living with someone who would choose to ignore you completely? Was that a life that you could truly be happy with?

You didn’t have much of a choice though. He was going to visit the next day. You hear a knock on your door, choking out a weak ‘come in,’ knowing who it was.

“I just heard the news, I am so sorry big sister.”

Woonhak says, closing the door behind him and taking a seat next to you on your bed. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting any stray tears fall down your face and onto your raggedy dress. 

“It’s not like you set me up Woon. Besides, this is what I’ve been asking for, right?” 

You laugh bitterly, not really believing it yourself that this is what you truly want.

“Yeah but not like this. You deserve to be with someone nice that treats you kindly and like a human. Not some scum that doesn’t know how to treat a lady!”

You sit up straight, facing him with a smile on your face and wiping your tears. 

“C’mon Woon, that’s no way to talk about your future brother-in-law. I know you don't like it. I don’t either, but I dont have another choice. But I'll be okay, alright? Just take care of yourself.”

He scoffs, facing away from you before pulling you into a hug. 

“I don’t know how you do it, being positive all the time and even seeing the good in bad people. And just because he’s going to be my brother-in-law doesnt mean I have to like him.”

You chuckle, hugging him back and enjoying the comfort of your younger brother, cherishing what little time you have left with him. You agree that you don’t know how you’ve managed to stay so kind and positive throughout the tragedies of your life, but you like to think it has something to do with how your mother loved you, and by extension, how Woonhak loves you. 

༄ ༄ ༄

The next day, you wake up early to get ready, putting on your best dress to meet Jaehyun. You go out once you’re ready, preparing tea like you did for your parents everyday. 

“This is the best you could do? You might just have to stay here forever. He might break the arraignment if he sees how decrepit you look.”

Of course the first words she speaks to you on arguably the most important day for you is nothing but negativity. You excuse yourself to tidy up, making sure the little bit of makeup you were allowed to wear looked smooth. You stare at your dress, the only decent one you had amongst your old, worn-out servants’ gowns. You try to stay positive, putting on your best smile for when the guests arrive. As if it was perfectly timed, you hear a ring throughout the living room, signaling to you that your guest had arrived. Your parents and Woonhak are off to the side of the room while you stand in the back of the room, in line with the door. 

“Welcome, Lord Myung, I hope the carriage ride over wasn’t too troublesome for you.” 

She says, bowing to him. You couldn’t stand her and her fake act of concern, it was sickening. He was stoic in his expression, not really one to care for small talk. He bows back, returning the sentiment. 

“Not at all Lady Kim.” 

He looks over to you who is shyly standing across from him. What your mother had said seemed true. He seemed cold and uninterested, but his features looked soft, he was very handsome. You stop analyzing him, bowing your head. 

“Hello Lord Myung, my name is Kim Y/N.” 

You were nervous, and it showed by your shaky voice that came out small in the big room. He tsks. 

“Quit being nervous and hold yourself up better. If you’re going to be my wife you’re going to need to learn to be a lady. And what is the raggedy dress you have on? We must get you a new one immediately.” 

You held back tears as he was harshly degrading you in front of your parents and brother, something you thought you’d be used to by now. Woonhak looked over to you before looking back at him, clenching his jaw and balling up his fist in rage, but releasing both to calm himself down. He couldn’t stand your parents treating you this way, how would he be okay with a stranger acting the same?

“Y-yes, Lord Myung…” 

You hated the way you spoke, not being able to hide your sadness and emotions overall. You were told beforehand that this arrangement was set in stone, that there was no room for objection, that the end result was most definitely going to be marriage. But this is what you had wished for, to be away from your accursed family, even if it meant that your husband wouldn’t be much better than them. 

“I am sure you have packed your belongings. You will be coming to stay with me at the Myung estate for a while. I’ll have someone grab your things.”

“Don’t bother,”

Woonhak glares at him, making sure he can see it before walking past him, making sure to nudge his shoulder on his way to your room. He wanted to help you in any way he could, even in just the small act of grabbing your things for you. He loaded your stuff up in the carriage for you, smiling at you when you showed up outside. You look at your parents, barely waving to them before walking up to Woonhak.

“Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone. There’s no one here to discipline you.”

You laugh, taking subtle jabs at your parents but trying your best to hold in your tears. But you don’t expect them from Woonhak. He pulls you in a tight hug, one hand on your back and one over your head. 

“You’re coming back soon right? Please tell me you’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t show his affection much, especially not this boldly where he outright displays his feelings. You can’t help but let tears soak onto his shirt, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

“Yes. I’ll be back soon.”

༄ ༄ ༄

The carriage ride back to the Myung household was silent, not a single word exchanged between the two of you. He had come alone save for the carriage driver, making the ride awkward and nerve wracking for you. Your attempts to make conversation were almost always shut down with his next response being vague or direct, neither leaving any room for elaboration. You opted to stare out the window instead, the view outside providing you more entertainment than your supposed fiancée. You were careful in your movements, not wanting him to see the small tears flow down your cheeks as you try to subtly wipe them away.   

Upon arriving at the Myung household, your bags were taken by one of his servants, presumably to the room that you would be staying in. 

“Welcome to the Myung household, Lady Kim.” 

You were greeted by his grandfather, a man who seemed much kinder than him, and was pleased at your arrival. 

“Hello, Lord Myung. The pleasure of meeting you is all mine.” 

You bow, already feeling better about the whole arrangement. You’re taken to your room where you were told to settle in. You take your time setting your things down, smiling when you pull out a framed picture of you and your mother when you were just a kid, laughing as she was holding you, and another picture of you and Woonhak when you were kids. A few small tears escape your eyes at the overwhelming rush of emotions you were feeling right now. ‘This really is how I’m going to be spending the rest of my life…’ 

On the other side of the house was Jaehyun, already cooped back up in his office. Just because he was marrying you didn’t mean he had to see you all time. 

After settling in, you made your way downstairs with the escort of your maid who was assigned to you shortly after your arrival. 

“Take a moment to walk around, Lady Kim, lunch will be ready soon.” 

“Thank you Ms. Choi, and please, just call me Y/N.” 

“Alright Y/N, I will see you soon.” 

You nod your head, taking the time to explore your new home. You let yourself picture what life here would be like. Imagining little kids running around, though you have trouble picturing such a cold man with sweet children. You were glad to be walking alone but the house was bigger than the outside lead on, having trouble navigating through the maze of hallways and endless doors aligning the walls. You’re wandering aimlessly at this point, stopping when you see a set of open glass doors. You peer in, staring in awe at the millions of books lining the shelves. 

“Has anyone ever taught you manners? How rude of you to simply walk in unannounced, without so much as a knock on the door?”

You flinch, not having noticed Jaehyun sitting at the desk all the way in the back of the room. Heat rises to your cheeks out of embarrassment, bowing to him.

“I-I am so sorry, Lord Myung. I was told to walk around, I had no idea this was your off-”

You stutter, voice shaky before being cut off by him. 

“Are you always this shaky and emotional? First you choke up when greeting me, then you cry saying goodbye to your brother and now this? Not to mention how you continued crying in the carriage even after we had departed from your home. You have no business being my Viscountess if this is the way you’re going to behave, not being able to control your emotions. That is weakness.”

You try to fight back the tears welling in your eyes, trying not to prove his point about you being emotional as images of your mother yelling at you for crying play through your head. You carefully lift your head back up once he’s done scolding you, taking another look around the room, taking note of the state of his desk, the broken pen holder and low ink cartridge specifically, before silently walking away, making sure he couldn’t see the way you wiped your tears while leaving the room. ‘Am I really weak for crying after being yelled at and showing emotions?’ You sit with the thought for a while before continuing on your own tour of the house. 

༄ ༄ ༄

It was time for lunch. You had walked around the house for a bit, even having some time left over to rest in your room. You all gathered at the table, Jaehyun sitting at one end and his grandfather on the other, you sitting opposite of his grandmother. She was very sweet.

“How did you like the house, Lady Kim? Is everything to your liking?”

“Yes, of course, everything is magnificent, thank you. And please, Y/N is fine.”

You explain, smiling as she nods at your preference. You continue eating silently, when Jaehyun’s grandfather starts speaking.

“Jaehyun, how was meeting your future wife?”

You look over to him, curious at his response but not expecting much.

“She’s fine. Could use a little refresher about manners, how to knock on doors specifically, and she needs to learn to handle her emotions and not cry all the time.”

He didn’t seem pleased with his grandson’s response, but accepted it nonetheless, figuring it would just take him some time to get used to the arrangement. You all continued to eat, having small conversations here and there, but it was mostly his grandparents asking you questions, Jaehyun not participating in the conversation unless directly asked a question. He leaves first, not saying anything as he simply returns to his office. You try not to think about it too much, not wanting your feelings of inadequacy to eat you alive after what he said. But it wasn’t anything that you weren’t used to, taking it and continuing the conversation with his grandparents like normal. 

༄ ༄ ༄

The next couple days were uneventful. You spent a great deal of time with his grandparents and Ms. Choi, getting to know the estate better. It was really big so you still got confused where everything was. You would spend the mornings asking Ms. Choi to let you help around the house. You had a love for gardening and nature in general, wanting to be outside whenever you could, even though you weren’t allowed to do it back at home. 

You got to know all the servants, and you were really excited to be able to help out. You would ask them about Jaehyun, what he likes and what things make him mad or upset. You wanted to know for the future, so you wouldn’t make him upset again like you did when you walked into the office without knocking. They all found it adorable how you tried to get to know him, knowing how difficult it is for him to open up. You guys hadn’t spoken much, only a small conversation here and there during meals and on the rare times you’d see him leave his office. Like now. You greeted him with a bow as always. 

“Good evening, my Lord. Have you been busy today?” 

He looks at you, returning your bow before scanning your appearance, the worn out servant’s gown getting on his nerves. 

“Yes I have. Do you not have any other clothes? Why do you insist on wearing these hideous servant's garb? Are you a future viscountess or a lowly peasant? Tomorrow, I will arrange for us to go into the town and get you some new clothing. I refuse to look at you in this horrid attire any longer.” 

He walks away from you, scoffing like you offended him. You look down at your clothes, sighing as a few small tears escape your eyes and hit the fabric of the dress. You decide to rest up early. You had an early day tomorrow, going shopping for new dresses as per Jaehyun’s demand, your old servant gowns not good enough for him. 

You make your way to your room, sighing and taking off your makeup first before taking off your dress, only being left in your white undergown. You walk to the bathroom attached to your room, running a bath. You step out of the bathroom, looking into the mirror and  trying to unzip the back of the gown, not hearing the knock on the door over the sound of the running water. You flinch upon hearing the sound of the doorknob being turned, door slightly creaking as someone walks in. You look back, face red as you find Jaehyun staring at you. 

“Oh my��� why didn’t you respond when I knocked on the door?”

He looks embarrassed himself, a light shade of pink dusting his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear it over the sound of running water…”

You’re in a compromising position, right hand reaching behind your back to grab at the zipper, the left holding it taut against you to make it easier to unzip. You shiver when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulder. 

“Next time you’re changing to take a bath, lock the door. You seriously have no manners… were you taught any at all?”

He says, very gently unzipping your gown. He was flustered but he kept his tone. You turn around, holding the front of the gown up to prevent it from falling down, pushing your chest up and defining their curves. 

“Thank you, Lord Myung. I’m sorry about the door. My last room didn’t have a lock so I’m not used to locking doors.”

You say with a smile. He’s looking down, taking glances between your moving lips and your chest. You walk into the bathroom, closing the door, a ‘click’ being heard from the other side; you locked the door. He couldn’t help but think about what you said while leaving the room. ‘She’s the daughter of the Baron… what does she mean she didn’t have a lock on her door?’

He takes the night to think about, but gets distracted, the image of your chest pushed up and the way your lips move when you talk clouding his mind. He shakes his head, snapping himself out of any thought before going to bed. 

You come out of your bath wrapped in a towel, going to your bag to grab a nightgown when something pink on your white bed catches your attention. A silk, baby pink gown was neatly placed on your bed. You smile at the fabric knowing it was most likely Jaehyun that came to give you a new nightgown whilst you were bathing. You quickly slip it on, locking the door before going to sleep. 

༄ ༄ ༄

The next morning you wake up refreshed, sunlight pouring in through the little spaces between the curtains, warming up the room. You hear a knock on your door, unlocking it before opening it. 

“Good morning Lady Y/N. I hope you slept well last night. Lord Myung wanted me to deliver you this dress to wear for today. Please let me know if you need help with anything.”

The smile on your face is radiant, cheerfully taking the clothes. 

“Good morning Ms. Choi. Thank you so much, I am so excited to wear it. It is absolutely beautiful.” 

You look at the dress in awe, thanking her once again before getting yourself ready for the day. Once you’re ready, you make your way downstairs where you see Jaehyun. 

“Good morning, Lord Myung. How was your sleep?”

You bow to him and he bows back. 

“Good morning, Lady Kim. You should know I am not one for small talk, but I suppose it was alright. And you?”

“I slept well, thank you. I shall keep that noted, no small talk.”

He seemed happier today, which made you happy in return. You both ate breakfast quickly, already running slightly late. You head out to the carriage, Jaehyun offering his hand to help you in, making you blush. The town wasn’t too far from here, only a 30 minute carriage ride. You sit across from Jaehyun, looking out the window. He tries to do the same, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. The way you look in the new dress he gave you. The way you fill out the dress perfectly, the sweetheart neckline perfectly complimenting your body. The shade of light green very fitting for the late spring season and accenting your skin tone.

You can feel his eyes on you, the familiar burn of your cheeks causing you to open the window slightly. You didn’t want to look back, too nervous to meet his gaze. He could see the way your face flushes, opting to look out the window instead to avoid causing you any further self-consciousness. 

Upon arriving at the town, Jaehyun helps you down, making sure the bottom of your dress doesn't get caught in your shoes. You thank him, looking up at him, urging him to lead the way. 

“Do you know where the boutique is? You are welcome to walk next to me.”

“Umm… my family actually never took me out. That’s why I don’t have any good dresses. I have no idea where we even are.”

You admit, and the look on Jaehyun's face shocks even you. He decided not to ask any questions, wondering how you could say such a disheartening thing with a smile on your face. ‘Was she used to being imprisoned in her own house…?’ Nonetheless, he guides you to the boutique, looking back every few steps to make sure you were behind him. 

“You know, even if you don’t know the way, as my fiancée, you should still stand next to me. We have a reputation to uphold you know.”

You nod your head, smiling as you wrap your arm around his, walking side-by-side. He can’t help but find your actions dainty and delicate, or in other words, cute. But still, he kept his cold demeanor, face stoic as you walked into the boutique, the both of you bowing as you entered.

You looked around, in awe at all the colors and styles they carried. You had never seen a place so vibrant and full of colors. This was your first time at a boutique. Your gaze was like that of a child, unable to fathom the concept of so many dresses. Jaehyun observes your behavior, confused at your sudden fixation. 

“You’re so… focused? Have you never been in a boutique before?”

“Exactly!”

He looks dumbfounded at your cheerful answer. Why were you excited about having never been to a boutique, something even babies experience regularly? Though, it clicks in his mind after you said your parents never took you out. 

“I’m glad I could be here today, thank you, Lord Myung.”

You say, a genuine sparkle in your eyes. He could melt at the sentiment, cold exterior slowly breaking down. You were so nice to him, even when he hasn’t been the nicest to you. 

He watches as your eyes zero in on a specific dress, a lilac piece with little white lace flowers topped with crystals creating the design. You reach your hand out to touch the dress, falling in love with it more. 

“Do you like that one? Do you want to try it on?”

You turned your head back fast enough to give you whiplash, as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying. A small smile spreads across his face, pointing to the little changing booth on the opposite side of the boutique. 

“Go try it on, I’ll have someone come over and assist you.”

You try your best to contain your excitement, speed walking to the booth. He didn’t know it now, but already, Jaehyun had seemed to carry a certain fondness for you, your slowly unveiling backstory coupled with your attitude towards life being something he would come to admire about you, and envy you for all the same.

Once you got the dress on, you step out, nervous for what his reaction might be. ‘What if he doesn't like it…’ You look at yourself one more time, the first time you've ever seen yourself look so pretty. You look around for Jaehyun, heart thumping in your chest when you see his back is towards you. You tap his shoulder, smoothing down your dress once more. His eyes go big in shock, dazed at how beautiful you look. But you can’t tell if he like it or not, bashfully looking away.

“It doesn’t look good, does it? I should put it ba–”

“Keep it! I mean, if you like it of course…”

You’re surprised by how excited and quick his response is. 

“Do you like it, my Lord? I will wear only what you approve…”

He thought he would like the feeling of control, in every sense of the word. He liked being in control of his work, of his business affairs, of his household for the most part, but the way you said you’d only wear what he would allow you to, it didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to control you. He didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t have your own opinions and free will. ‘Is this what she went through back at her home?’

“I think it makes you look very beautiful…”

You have to face away from him, hurriedly walking back to the changing booth to hide your beet red blush and the way your heartbeat speeds up at the compliment. He also looks away, calming himself down to keep his composure and ‘cold’ image. He clears his throat, walking up to the clerk and paying for the dress, along with a couple other dresses he thinks would suit you and that you would like. You hand him the dress when you walk out, hair a little messed up from changing your clothes. 

“Didn’t you look in the mirror before leaving? Your hair is all messed up.”

“O-oh, I’m sorry my Lord, I’ll fix it right–”

Your sentence is cut off by him as he silently runs his hands over your head to tame the flyaways, fixing any pieces that were moved out of place. You needed a fan for how often he seemed to catch you off guard and make you blush, heat spreading throughout your face. 

“Alright, let's go.”

He brings his arm out for you to hold, walking out and back to the carriage where he hands the bag of your dresses to the carriage driver.

Maybe he was nicer than you initially thought…

༄ ༄ ༄

The rest of your time out consisted of more shopping. Jaehyun was adamant about getting you a new wardrobe fit with new nightgowns, under gowns, shoes and dresses. If you were going to be Viscountess you had to look like one. It was late in the afternoon when you had arrived back at the Myung estate. You had come back with many bags, enlisting the help of your maid and other servants to help bring them up to your room before making your way to the dining room for dinner. You greeted his grandparents, talking about your day all together and eating dinner before Jaehyun announced that he was going to go back to his office. 

“Lord Myung, I just wanted to say thank you, for today. Thank you for getting me new clothes and other items.”

Your tone, the way you look up at him, the way your hand was barely tugging on his overcoat to get his attention, he found it all so endearing. 

“Of course, Lady Kim. That is part of my role as your fiancée and future husband, I must provide for you. But I am glad that you are appreciative nonetheless, I guess you do have some manners.”

You smile, happy that he was starting to warm up to you. You both go your separate ways, you to your room and him to his office. It is late now, the day’s activities weighing down on you as you draw yourself a bath. You relax in the warm water, letting your body recover for a while, this bath longer than your usual ones. You think back on the day. The amount of times you caught him staring at you and the way he looked at you when you came out wearing the dress that you chose. How he cared more if you liked it and told you to buy it only if you wanted it. How he called you beautiful in the dress. And the way he fixed your hair for you even after he scolded you. Your cheeks burn replaying the memories, but you wished they lasted a little bit longer.

After your bath you went to sort and put away all the new clothes you bought, a tiny box inside one of the other bags catching your eye. You don’t recall buying anything like it so you were confused, opening it up to see a little lilac colored ribbon inside, one that would perfectly match the dress you bought. You smile, wrapping it into your hair in a braid. You grabbed the last bag left, making your way towards Jaehyun’s office. 

You remember to knock this time, even if the door was open, to get his attention. 

“Come in!”

He says, voice echoing throughout the grand space. He doesn’t look up right away, not knowing that it was you who walked in. 

“You haven't washed up yet, is it going to be a late night for you?”

You ask calmly. He looks up at you, looks back down at his papers before looking back up again. The ribbon. He glances down at the bag in your hand. 

“What brings you in here? Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“I was putting my new clothes away when I remembered this–”

You pause to pull out the items from the bag: a new pen holder, one that matched his desk, and two new ink cartridges. 

“–I noticed your pen holder was broken and that you were almost out of ink. I gave the carriage driver some money and had him get these when you were in the washroom when we were out earlier today.”

You look at him, smiling.

“I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t use any of the money you gave me, I used my own…”

You go to place the items down, his hand coming to assist you in a fleeting touch. 

“Thank you… I really needed these. That was very thoughtful of you, I really appreciate it, Lady Kim.”

He gets up from his chair, walking around the desk and standing directly in front of you. He grabs your hands, holding them both softly in his own, looking at the ribbon in your braid.

“The ribbon looks wonderful. Do you like it?”

Your eyes sparkle at the contact, finding it hard to stop the smile forming on your face.

“I love it. It matches the dress you bought me.”

He places a kiss to the backs of your hands, his pillow-soft lips barely touching the skin. 

“I’m glad. I shouldn’t be up too late, but you should go to bed. I will see you tomorrow morning, Lady Kim.”

“Y/N.”

He smiles, chucking a little before repeating after you. 

“Lady Y/N.”

༄ ༄ ༄

You woke up this morning covered in sweat. As the summer was approaching, you found it harder to keep dry during the night, even with the windows open and wearing lighter clothes to sleep, oftentimes not even sleeping with the covers over your body. You get up, closing the windows and blinds to block out the sun, drawing yourself a bath right away to get the sticky sweat off of you. After bathing, you get dressed for the day, opting not to wear makeup in fear of sweating it off. Making your way out of the room, you’re surprised to see Jaehyun standing outside your door.   

“Good morning, my Lord. What brings you outside my door this early? Is everything alright?”

“Good morning, my Lady. I hope you slept alright. I just wanted to be the first to greet you today. And to give you this, I know it's hot today.” 

He says, handing you a fan. You take it, immediately fanning yourself down.

“My Lord, thank you so much. How very thoughtful of you. What a pleasant way to start my morning.”

Your cheeriness and heartwarming kindness never fails to bring a smile to his face. 

“Come by my office later. Whenever you’re free.”

He says walking away, but not before leaving a chaste kiss on the back of your hand, causing you to fan your face a little harder. ‘Why does he want me to come by his office later?’ You nod, giving him your word and continuing about the rest of your day, spending more time with his grandparents and the servants. 

You smile at the announcement that lunch is ready, asking if you could go up to tell Jaehyun yourself that it was time to eat. Making your way up the stairs, you knock on the door before entering.

“Could you close the doors for a second, I want to speak to you privately.”

You quietly close the door, standing across the desk from him as nerves build in you, worrying about what it is that he wants to talk to you privately about. 

“You were adopted into the Kim family, is that correct?”

You nod, confused as to why he’d be asking you something he already knew. 

“Your old family, would you tell me what happened? If you are comfortable, of course.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the emotions you’re about to feel.

“Well, my father left when I was a baby. It was just me and my mom. We didn’t have much and she would be working as much as she could so I learned to be happy by myself and embrace what he had. My mom, she was so amazing, the most loving mother ever. She died when I was about 8 years old. She fell ill, but we couldn’t afford to get her treated and she died. I was taken in by the Baron and Baroness Kim soon after.”

He was listening so intently, but you couldn’t help but let a tear or two fall down.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m too emotional and that crying is a weakness. I won’t do it again my Lord.”

“Don’t ever apologize for being emotional. I was wrong in saying that. It stemmed from my own emotions, being told not to cry, that it was weak. I know now that it doesn’t matter if you cry. I’m sorry for ever saying something so wrong.”

He walks around the desk, pulling you into his arms, letting you cry on his chest. You wrap your arms around him, the feeling of being hugged by someone other than Woonhak foreign to you. His heart broke for you. 

“I ask because of everything you’ve told me about yourself over these past few weeks. Not knowing to lock the doors and only having servant’s clothes. Did they make you do that? Why?”

Sniffling, you wipe your tears after pulling away from him, taking his hands in yours. 

“They didn’t see me as their real daughter. They already had my little brother, Woonhak, when they adopted me and they only did it because they were losing their popularity in the town. No one was really asking them for anything or helping them out. When they heard about an orphaned girl, they decided to use me as publicity, thinking I would restore their status– and I did, but it only benefitted them. They didn’t let me go out or have fun, I never had any friends outside of my brother, I wasn’t even allowed to be seen by other people. If they asked about me, they’d lie and say I didn’t like being out and that I’d rather be away from society. They treated me like their personal servant, mostly my mother, but I would have to make tea and clean up with the maids.”

His eyes widened in shock, not realizing how deep your story went and the magnitude of your mistreatment growing up. He had respected you and admired you more for it. 

“I am so sorry… for everything. About what happened to your real parents, and what you went through at home. And I am deeply sorry for the way I’ve treated you until this point. I should’ve never treated you that way. You deserve so much better than what I’ve been giving you…”

This was the first time you’d ever see him so vulnerable and open about his feelings, used to seeing his cold exterior with some sprinkles of bashfulness here and there. You hadn’t known much about him or what he spent most of his day doing, but you sighed, falling back into his embrace. You felt a big weight lift off of your shoulders as this was the first time you’d ever told anyone the truth. 

“Don’t say that. I am so grateful that you’re my fiancée. Thank you, for everything.”

“How are you so kind and happy all the time given what you’ve been through?”

“I never forget how happy and kind my mother was. No matter what we went through, she never once yelled or got mad, always trying to shield me from any sadness. I have her to thank for teaching me to always love. I especially owe it to Woonhak. He never treated me any different, he treated me like a real older sister. He let me love him like a sister, and I will never forget the love he showed me in return. The only person who has loved me since my mother died.”

He looks up, tongue at the roof of his mouth to stop himself from crying. You look up, wiping your tears and giggling. He looks down, confused as to why you’re giggling but you only shake your head. 

“I am okay. I have been through a lot but I am really okay. Thank you for asking and thank you for listening.”

He trails his hands up your face, caressing it softly. He wipes away any tears that are left on your face. He stares into your eyes for a bit and you look back up into his, emotions that you couldn’t say out loud being conveyed through your eye contact. He leans down, looking between your eyes and lips before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your breath hitches: your first kiss. You almost miss it, slowly moving your lips against his. His feelings for you pouring into the kiss, and yours for him. It doesn’t last very long, but when he pulls away, he rests his forehead on yours. 

“Thank you, for telling me.”

༄ ༄ ༄

The days only got hotter as the season of summer arrived. And it didn’t help that Jaehyun seemed to be adding to the heat. After you had opened up to him, he had been kinder and wanted to spend more time together. Of course, you never objected but there were many different scenarios in which you’d find yourself alone with him, the air between the two of you becoming thicker each time, tensions rising. 

Like a few days ago, when you were told that you were going out with Ms. Choi to meet other noble wives or soon-to-be noble wives, to learn more about what it means to be nobility and possibly to make new friends. 

You chose to wear the lavender dress that Jaehyun had bought you, matching it with the ribbon he gifted you. To say that you were nervous was an understatement. You never had any real contact with other women around your age and you’ve never had friends before. You were worried about how you should act and what you should say. Before going out, you sought to enlist the help of Jaehyun. Surely he would know how to help you. 

“Unfortunately, my Lady, I have no words for you except, be yourself.”

You looked at him, dumbfounded at his lack of response. You walked around his desk and stood in front of him, something he had you do if you were talking to him while he was working, to garner his full attention. 

“You have friends, surely there is more to this than just being myself. This is my first time meeting other ladies like this, I want it to go well and make some friends of my own.”

He turned to face you as you walked up to him, smiling while taking in your beauty, before taking your hands in his. 

“You look so beautiful. That color suits you very well.”

You were about to speak again, when he swiftly pulled you down onto his lap. The instant heat rising to your face required you to fan yourself even harder than you were before while he laughed at your cute behavior. 

“I am sure the other ladies will love you just for who you are. If they don’t, then you have no business being friends with people like that. They would be considered undeserving of your kindness.”

His sincere words had you giggling. 

“Maybe they will be undeserving of your kindness, that way I can have you all for myself.”

He says, hands that were once firmly gripping your waist now trailing down to rub at and caress your thighs. Your breath was caught in your throat at the sudden shift in his tone and his bold actions.

“Are you saying that you hope that I don’t make any friends, my Lord?”

He pulled you in closer, breath fanning your ear as he pushed the hair away from your neck. 

“Would that be so wrong of me to hope for, Lady Y/N?”

He smirked, pulling you in for a kiss. You gasped into his mouth, this kiss much more fiery than ones you’ve shared previously. The tension is only growing stronger, each kiss preceding this one becoming increasingly more intense as the days went by. Your hands grasped at his shoulders, collecting the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. He ran his fingers back up your hips and waist, resting them there before pulling away. 

“Can’t get carried away now, can we? You have things to do.”

You knew what he was doing, but you were too dizzy from the kiss to feel anything but want for him. You stood up, orienting yourself before getting ready to leave. 

“Hurry back now. Don’t have too much fun.”

You smile and nod, closing the door to his office behind you, the kiss still fresh on your mind. You’re greeted by Ms. Choi, who you forgot was waiting outside of the door for you that day. 

“I’m glad your relationship with the Viscount is alive and passionate. Shall we get going?”

You hid behind your fan as you shook your head, laughing with her whilst heading to the carriage. 

Or like tonight, when you need his help before your nightly bath. You had gotten new undergowns, ones that were lighter and more flowy to help ease the heat during the summer months. While you were grateful to have gotten more, these ones were a little different than your other ones, the zippers being much harder to unzip. After trying for a couple of minutes, you put a throw over your shoulders, walking across the hall to knock on the door to Jaehyun’s room.

“My Lord? It’s me, I would like your help with something if you don’t mind.”

He swung the door open quickly upon hearing your voice, hair tousled from taking off his overcoat, leaving him only in his button-down, that had the first couple of buttons undone, giving you a clear view of his toned chest. You ogle at him for a second. 

“That’s not very ladylike of you m’Lady, staring at my chest like that.”

You look up in his eyes, that teasing glint he’s been holding for days only becoming more apparent. 

“Right, I, umm… can I come in?”

He steps aside, closing the door behind you. You realize that this was the first time you’d ever been in his bedroom. The walls were a light blue-gray shade, an even bigger bathroom than the one in your room attached to his. You walk up to the big mirror in the corner of his room, staring at him through the reflection. He watches you as you look around, meeting your gaze in the mirror as he also realized that this was the first time you’d ever seen his room. 

“What did you need help with?”

You keep your back turned, holding his gaze. You shrug the throw off your shoulders, draping it around your arms.

“Could you help me unzip my undergown? I tried for a bit, but I couldn’t seem to get it.”

He approached you slowly, eyes never leaving yours from the mirror. He gently caressed your shoulders, tracing their outline. You’re staring at him, the way his expression shows something more than just wanting to help you out, his lips leaving kisses down your left shoulder as he carefully unzips the gown, not wanting to break it from the tracks. You take in a sharp breath at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your bare back, the feeling doing the opposite of cooling you down, instead causing more heat to blossom throughout your body. His touch is so delicate, like you’re too fragile to apply more pressure. He fully unzips it, kisses now trailing up to your neck, but you can barely feel them, feeling almost a tickle-like sensation in their wake. 

You move your hand from its position next to you to hold the gown up, knowing it would slip off of your frame if you didn’t. He places the hand that was on your back on the hand you're using to hold your dress up, squeezing it as his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer against him. His scent of musk and amber from his perfume, encapsulating your sense, almost dizzying. 

“My Lord…”

You whisper, moving your head back to allow him more room on your neck. The way he’s kissing you so softly, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. He hums against your neck, moving up to your jaw. He pulls away, looking down at you as you continue to look at him through the mirror. He brings his hand up to your face, tilting it to face him, drinking in your features. 

“My Lady…”

It's you that leans into him this time, gravitating towards his lips. He spins you to face him properly, holding you tighter against him as your lips lock in a heated kiss. You sigh into the kiss, coming out more like a moan and driving him to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before engaging it with your own tongue. Moving your hand off of your chest, you place one arm around his neck, the other going up into his hair, pressing him into you even more. You don’t think you can get any closer than this, heat budding into sweat along both your foreheads, both from the heat of the warm summer night and the intensity of the kiss. You pull away first, needing some air as he goes back to your neck, breathing heavily against it and pressing harder, hotter kisses to the skin. 

“Lord Myung–”

“Jaehyun. You need not be so formal with me, like you fear me. Please speak to me comfortably.”

“Lord Jaehyun. We cannot do this right now, we aren’t married yet. You need to stop.”

Your body says otherwise, but you can’t help but think this is wrong from everything you’ve heard growing up. He doesn’t seem to care though, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Do you want me to stop because you don’t want to do this, or because of the technicality that only married couples should engage in these actions?”

He already knows your answer by the way you keep pushing his head further into your neck. You don’t want him to stop, moaning lightly as he bites your neck, soothing over it with little sucks and kisses. He pulls away, keeping you close and resting his forehead on yours. 

“If you’re not ready yet, we can wait. But we are adults who were arranged into this marriage, and I can confidently say that I am falling in love with you. So my intentions aren’t coming from a place of sheer need. Whose to stop us from having some fun?”

Your heart races at his confession. He can sense your shock, chuckling before shifting to hug you, head resting on your shoulder. Your hands around him squeeze at his sides, face pressed firmly against his chest. 

“Take the night to think about it. Have a relaxing bath. We can talk about it in the morning if you’d like.” 

You were certain in your feelings for the Viscount. You were falling in love with him too. Why should you let any previous stigma heard from other people stop you from showing your love to each other?  

“I don’t need time to think about it. You are right my Lord. No one can tell us what to do.”

He’s beaming at your words, taking your hand and leading you to the bed, making sure to lock the door on his way. He lays you down gently, caressing your hair softly. 

“Let me show you how hard I’ve fallen for you.” 

He continues trailing kisses down your neck to your chest, stopping just before the valley of your breasts. 

“May I take this off of you, my Lady?”

You nod quickly, the heat between your thighs growing hotter at every move he makes. He eagerly slips the gown off of your body, staring at your chest and smiling.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You blush at his words, leaning your head back as he places kisses on your boobs, tongue flicking over your nipple. You moan quietly, careful to not make much noise, the rest of the people in the house still awake and walking around. His hands trail lower down your body, pulling your gown down lower as he goes. You arch your back, pushing your chest further into his face as he switches between your boobs, licking and suckong on your other nipple while rolling the other one between his fingers. Your hands tug at his hair, pulling it to get his attention. 

“Feels so good… but please…”

“Please, what?”

That teasing tone of his has you stammering over your words, embarrassed to ask him to touch you. But the ache is only growing worse at every second he’s not touching you passes by. You try to push your hips against his obvious bulge, hoping that he’ll get the hint that way. And he does, but he wants to tease you a little more first. Fully slipping your gown off of you and taking his shirt off, he hovers over you again, finger toying with your clit over the material of your panties. You let out a breathy moan, letting him know exactly what you wanted. He brings himself lower on your body, kissing above your naval as he hooks his fingers over your panties, pulling them down as you shiver at the cool air hitting your heat. 

“You are truly magnificent,”

He kisses along your thighs and outer lips, dancing around your hole as you start to grind against his finger. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you. He drags his finger down from your clit to your hole, inching it in carefully as you let out a mewl, the best sound he’s ever heard escaping your lips. 

“Oh my…”

You grip the sheets, continuing to grind yourself on his fingers, hoping to catch his nose on your clit with how close he is to it. He obliges, taking in your scent and letting you graze his nose a little before he sticks his tongue out, giving your clit little kitten-like-licks. You’re getting hotter, the pleasure building up faster than you can comprehend. Your walls clench around his fingers, preparing for your orgasm. But he pulls his fingers out, leaning up to kiss you before you can protest. He takes off his pants, his briefs following as you take in how big and hard he is. He giggles at your reaction, finding your scared expression cute. 

“This might feel a little uncomfortable, let me know if it’s too much.”

You nod, trying your best to relax yourself as he lines himself up with your hole, spitting into his palm and rubbing himself a little to get it wet enough to slip in you with ease, not that he would need it with how wet you were already. You nod at him, giving him the okay to slowly push into you. You grip his arms, pulling him down to kiss you as he pushes just the tip in first. You inhale sharply against his mouth, the burn of the stretch a lot stronger than you believed it would be. He tries to pull away, wanting to make sure you’re okay, but you hold him in place, assuring him that you’re fine and to keep going. 

Little by little, he fully bottoms out inside of you, letting out a deep groan into your mouth as he waits for you to adjust. Your nails are digging into his biceps, the tight yet filling feeling of him being fully inside you overwhelming. You’re both sweating like crazy, bodies almost stuck together with how close you have him held against you. 

“You can move now…”

You manage to croak out, throat dry and breathless. He lifts his hips carefully, pulling out half way before pushing back in, keeping a slow pace. Your face displays everything you’re feeling, quickly changing from being scrunched up in pain to being completely relaxed from the pleasure, the stinging pain being replaced by the same feeling you felt earlier when his fingers were inside you. He quickens his pace, moans matching yours as you both struggle to keep your voices down. 

“Jaehyun…”

You’re so lost in pleasure, completely dropping formalities as you feel your high approaching. Normally, he wouldn’t let anyone get away with calling out to him informally, but it was the way you said it so effortlessly and blissed out, like his name was meant to roll off your tongue that has him slamming his hips into harder, almost too much for you to handle. 

“Fuck, you sound so amazing, saying my name like that.”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to call you informally…”

“Don’t be. I like it. Shows that you’re comfortable around me, and that you’re enjoying yourself.”

You smile as he kisses you again, letting out a particularly loud moan into his mouth as you cum hard around him. He almost doesn’t pull out in time, lost in the way you moan for him. But he manages to just barely pull out, cumming all over your lips and navel, breathing heavy and shallow against your neck. 

“That was so… amazing.”

You say, catching your breath was you smooth your hands in his now sweaty hair, taking in his scent and relishing the post-orgasm bliss you’re feeling right now. He peels himself off of you, cringing at the way your bodies stick together because of the sweat. He lifts you up bridal style, carrying you over to the bathtub in his attached bathroom. 

“You were amazing, Y/N. I love you. I am so sorry for the way I used to treat you. You never deserved that, and if you let me, I will continue to make it up to you until the day we cease to exist.” 

He places loving kisses against your forehead and lips, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. 

“I love you too, my Lord. I already forgave you before. I am forever grateful that we were arranged. I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing fiancée. I can’t wait to be your wife.”

He runs the bath for the both of you, cleaning you up before getting in with you, savoring the bath together. You talk for hours, even after getting out of the tub, deciding to sleep with him for the first time since you started living there. And you couldn’t have been happier with the arrangement. 

༄ ༄ ༄

Ending is a little shitty cuz I couldn't figure out how to end it but I still hope that this was up to your standards!

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[cherryredstars]

Hi Cherry, I have a request and it’s SFW.

Could I please ask for a fic where Miguel looks after Spider![Reader]’s [Gender Neutral] [Romantic] cat?

[Reader] snuck their pet cat in the Spider Society since the usual cat-sitter called out sick and they couldn’t get someone else at the last minute. They have their fur-baby secured with a “Day-Pass band” and [Reader] would mostly be occupied with missions and reports. They beg their cat not to cause trouble, but the feline menace decides to do the opposite. It strolls through the halls, causing minor mischief and coincidentally, Miguel found the cat which he unintentionally became its sitter for the day.

Then towards the end, [Reader] was so embarrassed that their cat was stirring up a commotion and apologized to him. However, The Leader himself has a soft spot for them (Miguel can’t be mad at them since he has a crush on them).

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: SFW, Fluff

Unedited

You must be the worse cat owner in history.

You can’t even begin to describe the panic you felt when you found the day pass that was supposed to be dangling around your cat’s collar, ripped and laying next to a pile of broken shards on the ground. At a later time, you would need to pay Miguel back for all the broken things your naughty cat had knocked to the ground, but that was a distant note in your mind.

You looked everywhere, trying to follow the path of destruction and asking any spider you came across if they had seen your cat. Your hunt was going nowhere, and you can’t even begin to imagine the fear your cat must be going through in such an unfamiliar environment on top of randomly glitching in and out of reality. The very idea makes tears well up in your eyes, and you find yourself in front of Miguel’s large office. You trudge in slowly, defeat sagging on your shoulders as you prepare yourself to explain this dimensional emergency to your boss.

However, you’re caught by surprise when a familiar yowl echoes along the room. Your head snaps up, and a gasp rips through your throat as you take in the view in front of you. Your cat, who is very much not glitching out, stands on top of Miguel’s broad shoulders. Your cat meows at you again, seemingly telling you off for all the trouble it endured today. The weight of worry on your shoulders is instantly alleviated, and you sling yourself towards Miguel.

Miguel had turned to face you when your cat screeched loudly in his ear, alerting him that its owner had finally came to retrieve it. He isn’t the least surprised by who he sees. Miguel watches as that look of worry melts away on your face, and he clears his throat.

“Last time I checked, animals weren’t allowed in the building unless they were spider variants or service animals.” Miguel gently reprimanded, extending his arm out towards you so your cat can gracefully walk the clear path.

Your cat chirps at you, nipping your fingers in a last show of attitude before snuggling into your arms with a delighted purr. Your cheeks flush, hand coming up to stroke the new day pass that was secured around your cat’s back paw. It had tiny teeth marks on it, showing how your cat probably got out of the last one.

“I’m so sorry, Miguel!” You sighed, looking up at him as you scratched your cat’s warm belly to comfort yourself. “I just couldn’t find a sitter or something and I couldn’t leave my cat at home by itself, it’s too young.”

Miguel huffs, holding his hand out towards your cat who angles its head to rub against his large palm.

“It didn’t even have a day pass on, LYLA informed me of its presence.”

You wince, holding up the destroyed pass. “It broke off.”

Your boss takes the broken pass from you, examining it. “I’ll have LYLA issue you an animal friendly version of the pass.”

You blink up at him, surprised by his proposal. “But I thought normal pets weren’t allowed in HQ.”

Miguel glances over at you, already typing up the task for LYLA to complete. “Well, it’s only inevitable that your cat will be back until it’s old enough to be left alone in your dimension. You can keep it in here while you do your reports and missions so it doesn’t make a mess of my building.”

You thin your lips, the image of all the broken decorations and equipment filling your mind’s eye. “Sorry about that…”

Miguel sighs affectionately knowing he can never be fully mad at you or your feline companion.

“Just don’t sneak in anymore pets.”

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You spend some time with Ever...}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Violence, Angst, k!dnapping, bl0od, t0rture, g0re,

Chapter 19: Ever

There’s a distinct feeling. Losing something. A sort of unfathomable confusion as your brain tries to convince you that what you’re seeing isn’t true. It was just here, your mind reasons, this is where it’s supposed to be!

Only it’s not there. It’s gone.

You’re gone. 

Xavier had seen, with distinct, horrific clarity when the wyrmlord had hit you with its tail and sent you flying. The sound of the glass and the hole in the shop window is something he’s not likely to forget for a long, long time. Imprinted in the way traumatic things are. Both hazy like smoke but engraved with a heated blade into one’s psyche. 

Reinforcements arrived, and Xavier left his battle with the oversized lizard to go to you. The other Hunters and the one other Unicorn member that arrived could handle it, Xavier was running the instant he saw them. Leaping across rubble and the remnants of the fountain you adored.

He lunged over the ledge and through the open window of the flower shop. An overflowing amount of fresh spring flowers coverings the walls and now, the floor. Pieces of stems and leaves scattered among the shards of glass. Blood coated some of the pieces and there was a splatter pattern along the bottom part of the check out counter. 

The pale yellow of the kickboard dotted with speckles of your blood, a sign of where you’d landed. Only…you weren’t there. 

Xavier called out your name. And when nothing answered, he called out again. Again and again, rising in volume and desperation the longer you refused to answer him. There wasn’t enough blood to be deadly, but you were hurt at the very least. This was not what this patrol was supposed to be!

Xavier’s breaths are short and tight, fighting out of him like little gasps as he tries to come to some conclusion as to what happened. He grits his teeth, forces himself to take a deep breath through his nose, and focuses. 

There’s glass everywhere, and blood dotting the place among the petals from the dozens of destroyed flowers. But when he takes the second to really look at it, he sees the trail. A little line of dotted blood and a shift in the glass. A struggle?

It leads behind the counter. There’s a smudged handprint that’s missing the palm– your fingerless gloves. He hovers his own hand over the print and finds it matches the size of your hand. The ghosting feeling of your palm in his makes his stomach turn. 

He follows the dragged glass through the back of the store. The line of blood is distant and barely followable, but he finds each droplet like a breadcrumb you’ve left behind. 

When he meets the backdoor, he shoves it open. Back into the shadowy, damp alleyway. A dumpster on one side, and wide enough to fit a truck, but there’s nothing. 

Xavier pulls out his phone from inside his coat, thanking the gods that it’s not broken from the skirmish and dials the first number he can.

Xavier looks down at the ground of the alleyway and sees the tire tracks of something recent. With the phone still to his ear, he runs down the alley towards the street.

“Yello’?” Rafayel answers, “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now? What a slacker.”

“Rafayel.” Xavier bites out, and the edge in his tone cuts through Rafayel’s nonchalance. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Rafayel’s asking quickly, and Xavier hears the clatter of what can only be paintbrushes scattering to the ground. 

“She’s gone.” Xavier breathes, unable to believe the words are leaving his lips. “Get Sylus. Check the CCTV of every camera around my position.”

“What do you mean she’s gone!?” Rafayel’s voice is a roar, and there’s a pant in it that tells Xavier that he’s running. 

“There was a Wanderer. I lost sight of her for a second. A second!”

Xavier makes himself dizzy from looking every which way, searching for a vehicle he doesn’t know the make, model or color of. Like some divine intervention might tell him which one has you. He’s running down the street anyway, as fast as his feet can take him. 

The Lightblade hunter runs twenty blocks one way before doubling back, and he can’t breathe by the time Sylus pulls up on his oversized motorbike. Xavier’s hands are shaking, and it feels like his ribs are caving into his chest. 

Sylus tosses Xavier a helmet without a word, muttering about showing him where to go. Xavier robotically hops on the back of the bike and they take off.

“Caleb warned us!” It’s extremely rare to hear Zayne raise his voice, and so even the slightest raise in volume strikes all the harder, “He warned her to not leave the house! We should have never–”

“You’re the one who promised her nonsense!’ Rafayel snarls, pointing an accusing finger in Zayne’s direction, “You told her we wouldn’t just sit by. That she could look for him! Now look!”

“Fighting amongst ourselves will do little,” Xavier says and while his words are diplomatic, his voice is a wreck of malice. Tensions are running higher than they ever have. Thick enough in the air to cut with a knife. Layers of fear, disappointment, and rage making up the layers of this shit cake they’ve found themselves in. 

Sylus is the only one sitting. Head in his hands on the couch of their home, Mephisto sat on the coffee table in front of him. He hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten back. 

They’d spent three hours scouring the crime scene. Scanning for prints, footsteps, DNA. The tire tracks were analyzed. Sylus knew the make, the model, the year. The type of tire and when they’d last been replaced. He knew the VIN number and he knew the time to the very last second that you were thrown into the van. 

He knew too much. The grainy footage from the flower shop revealed too much agonizing detail of what happened. They were quick. Professionals. They’d been lingering at the edges of the square an hour before the Wanderer attack, and poised to take you the moment an opportunity arose. 

Snatched away as easily as a ripe fruit from the branch. Sylus was replaying the images in his mind even without Mephisto’s screen. Over and over again. The way you’d fought them. The callous way they’d shoved that gag into your mouth. 

“She was supposed to be at a safehouse,” Sylus lifts his head. He doesn’t raise his voice. There is no fire. No anger. Only the cold vacuum of a void inside him. “A million miles away from here.”

“Do we have any leads?” Zayne asks, turning to Sylus– a man who usually has answers.

“Beyond knowing what time and where she was taken from, not much.” Sylus admits, feeling nauseous. 

“She has my scale,” Rafayel says sternly, “I can’t track her with it, but it should keep her safe. As long as she’s wearing it.”

“A scale?” Zayne looks properly aghast, “A good luck charm will not protect her from these people!”

Rafayel has to bite his tongue from lashing back at Zayne. It is not just a good luck charm but a powerful talisman. You owning that scale was owning Rafayel. To wield that scale is to hold the leash on of the most powerful deities in existence. The power residing in a singular scale enough to ward off malice– those who would seek to do you harm will suddenly find themselves deciding against it. The allure of the scale lulling them in docility. 

“What do they want with her?” Xavier barks, “Why take her?”

“She seemed to believe it was Ever. They’re a biotechnical company. Josephine, her Gran, had connections there. We learned this after the explosion. It’s…I only have conjecture. Nothing concrete!” Zayne runs a hand through his hair, pushing back charcoal strands.  

“If we have nothing else, then we run with conjecture.” Sylus says as he stands. He goes over to Zayne and places an anchoring hand on the back of his neck, the skin there ice cold. “Tell us what you’re thinking.”

Zayne takes in a breath, and Sylus watches as the ice crawling across his skin spreads just a little further. 

“She has an aether core in her heart. Josephine used to work with– or for – Ever. I think…I think Josephine took her in because she was one of the experiments. And it’s not that big of a leap to think Caleb was too. Experiments on Evol and the protocores. If– and this is if– If Josephine defected and took those two with her, then Ever would likely want their investments back.”

“Investments…” Rafayel murmurs, “Why didn’t you mention any of this?!”

“Because it’s speculation!” Zayne uncharacteristically bites right back. “Her history is not mine to share. It’s none of any of our business.”

“It is our business when her life is in danger!” Flames lick at the tips of Rafayel’s fingers as he swipes his hand across himself. 

“She hasn’t exactly been hiding.” Xavier places his hand to his lips contemplatively, “Why come for her now? What’s changed?”

“Nothing will get solved if we hang around here!” Rafayel rushes over to the entryway, grabbing a light jacket and throwing it over his shoulders, “I’m going out to look for her.”

“Wait!” Sylus snaps, “Go, do what you can, but we agree to meet back here– six am. If you find her, send a text, but if you haven’t we meet back here, no matter what.”

Rafayel takes a second to pause, and then nods. Disappearing out of the house and slamming the door behind him. 

Zayne places a hand to Sylus’ back, “I’m going to head to the hospital, put a lookout at emergency rooms for her. If– when she escapes, she might end up there. I also have some colleagues I can contact for help.”

Sylus nods and kisses Zayne’s temple before he goes. Which leaves the two fair haired men standing uncomfortably in the too-cold living room.

An ominous feeling falls over the room. If any one else were there, they’d break out in inexplicable goosebumps. The hair-raising feeling of death that a prey detects before the predator's jaw clamps down on their neck. 

“How much–” Xavier clears his throat and speaks very quietly, like you somehow might hear him, wherever you are, “How many lives is too many?”

Sylus snorts. The question lingers in the air for a moment, the two of them silently debating the answer. How many lives is yours worth? How much destruction is worth getting you back? How far can they go and be forgiven?

Sylus adjusts the bracelet at his wrist, the weight of it feeling a little more heavy today, “Do what you must, my prince. And I’ll do the same. What the others don’t know won't hurt them.”

A sharp sting in your arm, and then you’re awake. The zing of some synthetic drug that drags you, kicking and screaming from unconscious into sharp alertness. 

The room is blinding and silver. The fluorescent lights above you sting your eyes and when you try to lift your arm, you find it strapped at your side. Flat on your back on a hard exam table– not even the half-inch cushion you usually get in a doctors office between you and cold steel. Straps keep you secured to the surface across your chest, your stomach, and your thighs. 

“Take some deep breaths,” A cool voice says from beside you, and when you try to move your head you find another strap across your forehead. You strain your eyes to find a nurse in silver scrubs, dark blue stitching along the sleeves and her face covered in a white surgical mask. “That’s it. You’re safe now. Just relax…”

Her voice is soothing, but you’re not soothed. You’re strapped down in a brightly lit room on a cold table with an IV in your wrist and probes attached to your chest. You’ve been stripped down and changed into a buttoned up tank top and loose pants. Sterile and white. 

“Where–” You’re shocked they haven’t gagged you, “Where am I?”

The nurse holds a tablet in her hands, and focuses on tapping away at your chart, “You’re safe. I’m sure they’ll explain everything, now– how do you feel? Any lightheadedness? Nausea?”

You lick at your bone dry lips and struggle a little against the harsh bindings, “I’m…These hurt. Can you take them out? Can I sit up?”

The nurse’s eyes crinkle in amusement, “They’re for your own safety, miss. Don’t try and fight them. You’ve have a very busy day. Now, again, how are you feeling?”

You grit your teeth, “I feel like I was kidnapped and now I’ve got some nurse asking me if I’m okay while I’m strapped down like a frog for dissection!”

The nurse’s expression is hard to determine under the mask, but she seems contemplative, “Aggression. I’ll note that down here…”

She taps away nonchalantly on tablet and the sound of her fingertips grates on your sanity, “Hey! Where the hell am I? Is this Ever? Do you work for Ever?”

The nurse looks up, “The doctor will be in shortly. You can ask him your questions...”

You thrash against the straps, wiggling your shoulders with enough force the table underneath you jumps an inch. With a satisfying squeal, the nurse scuttles back and shuffles out of the room. 

You spend the next immeasurable amount of time trying to wiggle out of these straps. It could’ve been ten minutes, or it could have been hours– the unchanging lights and the lack of any clocks make it torturous, and maybe that’s the point. 

When someone else enters, it’s a sharply dressed woman with a charcoal grey skirt suit and glossy black heels. Her golden blond hair is swept up into an elegant chignon and the Ever emblem on her chest shines with neon blue and chrome. 

“Good morning!” She greets like the two of you have just run into each other getting coffee. She comes up to the side of your bed and you see the sparkle of her silver earrings from where they dangle on her ears. She’s so put together you’re sure there has to be glue involved somewhere. She smiles tightly at you, red lipstick stretching over pearly white teeth, “It is so good to finally meet you. The previous head of the department never shut up about you, and to finally get to meet you– in the flesh! It’s just– Wow! Such an honor!”

“Wish I could say the same.” You hiss sardonically, “But I find it hard to be cheerful while I’m strapped down.”

“Oh that, you'll have to forgive me for that. We weren’t sure how you’d react to coming out of it, we have the reports from when you were younger, but you know how it is! Times change, and all that.”

She’s annoyingly chipper. A saccharine sort of friendly that makes you want to trip her in the hallway just to make her stop smiling for half a second. 

“Wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if you hadn’t have snatched me off the street.” You bite and the woman doesn’t even blink.

“An unfortunate circumstance. We sought more civil avenues, but found them all blocked for one reason or another. Josephine was a pioneer, but also so horribly stubborn! Anywho! I should introduce myself. I’m Carlee Antham, Head of Bioengineering and Biotechnology here. I run the place, so to speak. So, you’ll be seeing a lot of me. Oh! And my colleague, Dr. Riston Clark. He’s the head scientist. We’ll be taking care of you.”

“Yeah? And who do I talk to about getting out of here?” You resist the urge to spit at this woman, greeting you like a hotel hostess. “You can’t keep me imprisoned here.”

Carlee smiles sheepishly and folds her hands together, “Technically, dear, you’re the property of the Ever corporation? You’re proprietary! Your DNA and your aether core and all that belong to the company and therefore, laws pertaining to unlawful imprisonment don’t apply.” She places a hand to the side of her mouth like she’s telling you a secret, “Took our legal team two years to check all the loopholes. What a headache!”

She laughs and reaches out to pat you on the shoulder, “So, nope. You’re here to stay, which is such fun! I’ve been dying to meet you– did I say that already? Well, anywho! I’ll be off. Dr. Clark will be in shortly and then we’ll get you all set up in your room!”

You growl low in your throat, “You can’t keep me here! I have people! People who will find me! They’ll kill you!”

Carlee, who had been in the middle of turning towards the turn, turns back to you on her little kitten heel, “Pardon? Kill me? That’s…well that’s quite harsh don’t you think? No, no, no. Don’t worry about any of that. This facility is impenetrable, and our security team is unmatched. So, let me assure you,” The woman’s voice drops into a near whisper and she leans over you to make sure you hear every syllable, “Should anyone attempt to infiltrate this place, it will be their own doom.”

She smiles, and this time? You do spit at her. Hawing back as much saliva as you can to lob it smack against her cheek. Carlee screeches in disgust and wipes it away, stumbling back and utterly aghast at what you’ve done.

“We’ll see, bitch.” You bark, “Do your worst!”

Her worst comes in the form of a Dr. Riston Clark. An tall, skeletal man. Ironically, he’s exactly what you would have pictured when thinking of a mad scientist. And later, if you survive this, you’ll laugh about it. 

Dr. Clark doesn’t bother with long winded, friendly introductions. He has work to do, it seems. Such busy, important work that he’s so engrossed in he doesn’t even look at you. At least, not at your face. He examines the vitals the probes pick up and takes a dozen vials of blood from your restrained arm. 

Then, a pair of large men in charcoal coveralls come in. The Ever emblem is on their back, a slightly darker gray than the rest of their outfit. They unstrap you slowly, and you can tell through their build alone that they’re the muscle here to restrain you the minute you act up. And act up you do. 

The instant you’ve got movement, you’re clocking the closest guy in the nose, shoving his nasal bridge up into his skull and grinning at the satisfactory crunch that sounds. 

The other guy holds you down, and try as you might, they’re a little stronger than you. A little. 

It has to be days right? Days that you’ve been here. Or maybe weeks? 

All you know is they’ve taken samples of you. Blood. Urine. Saliva. Flesh. You’re missing little one inch squares long your left arm and your back. Dr.Clark assures it’s only to get a baseline– they need to start from scratch since the last time you were here. 

You were here before? That doesn’t sound right. But something about these rooms. The sights, the smells, they ring like the memory of dreams you don’t recall. 

You’re allowed to rest, and you sleep so soundly on the hard mattress like its feather down with utter exhaustion. That’s one day, you think.

On the second day, you’re able to get a bite into one of the assistants when they strap you up to more machines. A good piece of flesh that you spit out at their feet and nearly make it to the door before the goons are on you again. This time, they pull your shoulder out of its socket, and you’re left to stew with that pain for the duration of the test. A lesson learned, Dr. Clark coos. 

That day sucks. They pump you full of something that makes your Evol explode. Like an untamed supernova inside of you it lashes out in bands of searing energy like solar flares. It hurts. God, you’re Evol is going to tear you apart. Each burst of energy makes your skin burn, bubbling with burns from something like radiation. 

Dr. Clark just watches. Watches and takes notes and hum in satisfaction when you finally collapse.

You get to sleep again after that. Another day. That’s two? 

You’re in a medical wing the next day, and the folks there are a little nicer. The nurses are gentle when they insert an IV, and they even warn you it’ll sting when they inject you with some cloudy liquid into you. Though, of course, no one answers any of your questions. 

Though that day, you finally get to meet Dr. Clark properly. He comes into your cramped little room that reeks of sterility with his white coat and badge with a picture of him that looks a decade younger. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks without looking at you. His gray eyes examining the tablet with your medical chart on it. You’re not a person to this man. Not even a patient. You’re a number.

”Like shit.” You answer honestly. Your head is swimming a little and it takes effort to even lift your head. You’ve been sedated— mildly, but you recognize the sensation. “Are you here to monologue, Dr. Evil?”

The tight lips of Dr. Clark twitch upwards, “Unfortunately not, miss. I’ve come to check in on your mental state. I’ve found— in my practice— that if the subject loses the will to go on, then the results of our excersizes will be affected.”

”So, you’re making sure I still want to live?” You huff dryly, “How kind of you.”

”I can be kind.” Clark hums, finally lifting his head to look at you. His downturned eyes level you with a lazy kind of attention. “You bonded well with the last head scientist. I’ve read through her notes. You loved her dearly.”

You go to sit up, but only manage a few inches before you fall back limply onto the hospital bed. The beeping of your heart monitor picks up for a moment, and then a sharp sting in your arm sends your eyes rolling back.

”Oh, I apologize. Any increase in cortisol detected will result in an increase in sedation.” Clark walks over to examine the glass vials attached to your IV drip, “You’ve been exhibiting signs of increased distress for the past two days. Higher than desired. Try not to stress so much.”

”You…Yo—‘ve be-en…” Your lips can barely form the words, forming around cotton and the resinous sleepiness of whatever drug they’ve got you hopped up on, “You— cu..ut…me…”

”You mean the tissue samples?” Clark says with a birdlike tilt to his head. It makes you think of Mephisto. That brainless cyborg bird that never lets you get away with anything. You’d give anything to see that stupid crow.

Clark inspects the IV port in your hand, and it stings when he does. “Be grateful for such small samples. We needed to see how your flesh reacts to different stimuli. I could have used the main source.”

You laugh, but it comes out in tiny, ineffectual wheezes. ”F-Fu~uc-k…y-you~u…”

Clark scowls and steps away, “Behave, and this won’t have to be so difficult. You’re a part of something bigger than you. Bigger than all of us. Get some rest. We’ll be back to it tomorrow.”

You wake up back in your room. The little grey space with a single can light in the ceiling, a bed, and a toilet. A utilitarian solitary confinement. 

Without any mirrors, it’s hard to check for any scars. You’re not sure what all they did to you yesterday but you want to make sure they didn’t steal any organs while they were at it. 

You spend that day in your room. Stuck. Maybe it was a day. But it could have been more. The seamless grey walls of your cell are like the untouched slate of chalkboard. You can scratch little marks with your nails if you try, and so you spend the next uncountable number of hours making shapes. Drawing little cats and crows and fish. 

The next day, they have to drag you from the bed, and you kick and bite at them the whole time. By the time you reach some new room, your handlers are just as bruised as you are. 

This room is small. Lined dark metal walls with a single chair in the center. You’re shoved into it and strapped into it on your wrists and ankles. There’s a table in front of you, a tiny surface that lies empty. 

Once you’re secure, one of the handlers, who you’ve named Knuckles in your head, gives you one good strike across your jaw for making their jobs harder. Kicking a puppy while it’s down. You spit the blood that rises in your mouth at him, and the other one– Stinky, you’ve called him– drags Knuckles away. 

There’s a two-way mirror on the wall facing you. You can see the slight distortion at the edges. It’s a mirror to you, but you know Dr. Clark and his imps are behind it. His voice comes through a speaker in the ceiling. 

“We’re trying a new series of tests today.” Dr. Clark explains most magnanimously. How kind of him to actually explain what he plans to do before he cuts you open. “You will be shown a series of protocores. Resonate with them, and we will measure the results.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask around the blood pooling in your mouth. You spit it down onto the ground at your feet and feel for the wound on the inside of your cheek. “What’ll you do if I refuse?”

A beat passes, “Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.”

One of the research assistants walks in. A glass cylinder with a floating pink protocore inside it. With a gentle touch, the short assistant with coke-bottle glasses sits it down on the pedestal in front of you. They give you an almost empathetic glance before they scurry out. 

The protocore floats in its chamber lazily. It’s a weak one, and you can barely feel the shift in its energy at all. 

“Now, Resonate with it.” Clark commands. 

For a moment, you debate disobeying. Maybe struggling against the straps at your wrists and ankles again. Maybe spitting again. Maybe screaming and crying and begging. But now…it’s only been two days and you’re so tired. 

Faith is a funny thing. The entire premise of it is believing in something you can’t see, touch or hear. Can’t prove beyond a longing in your heart. You have faith in your boys. They’ll find you. You know they will. But it’s faith. Faith and hope and fucking pixie dust and all that. 

So, you do it. Obey and stay alive. Give them enough time to find you. What a waste it would be if you’re dead when they get here.

You reach out with your Evol to resonate with the protocore. Its energy touches yours and it's a disgruntled feeling from the crystalline substance. It fights against you for a moment, but then the connection is made. A tether between you and this piece of the cosmos. A chip from a star that fell out of the Deepspace tunnel.

It’s unremarkable. And so are the others. A dozen or so protocores you resonate with. Each one is a little bit spicier than the last. Your body aches in protest from being stuck in this chair for hours and from the overuse of your Evol. What an uncomfortable day, but at least they aren’t cutting into you anymore. Silver linings, you guess. 

A red one is brought in, and you feel it before you see it. The assistant carrying it is wearing thick gloves, like oven mitts. And when you resonate with it, you feel like your skin is on fire, burning from the inside and by the time it's over you’re drenched with sweat. Blistering burns wind up your arms, bubbled flesh like someone has poured something corrosive over them.

What’s the point? You’re aching mind weeps. Why? What could they be measuring if not how long you’ll last before you’re torn apart? If death is the outcome it’s not happening soon enough because each one is some new, fresh, horror.

Somehow, when the last one is brought in, you know it's the last one. The  molecules in the air bend and twist to conform around this palm-sized crystal the color of the night sky. As the assistant sits it down, the dim lighting refracts around it. It shimmers in multi colors like an oil slick, but hits your eyes wrong. Like it’s being lit from a different source that you can’t see. 

You can’t tear your eyes away from it. The pressurized energy expands around the core and into the room around you. Your ears pop and it takes a little more effort to breathe than it had before. 

If Clark gives you the command to resonate, you don’t hear it. Because you’re already doing it. Drawn in by this inexplicable pull that laces around your marrow. Every nerve in your body tuned into the protocore like it was some missing part of you, and at long last, you’ve found it again. 

The connection between your Evol and the protocore is violent. The smacking of two magnets sliding across space and directly into each other with such force they disintegrate. A scream, tears through your throat, but your ears don’t register it. They’ve long since gone deaf with the static of what can only be the cosmos. 

The stars are speaking to you. Whispering to you in hushed lovely tones like life-long friends. Your body wittles down to its very atoms– no longer locked in their quantum space but free to float in the void between universes.  And you…remember.

<- Previous Next ->

[felassan]

"Thorne" is a cool surname for Grey Warden Rook.

There's a dagger in DA:O called Thorn of the Dead Gods, which is Grey Warden-themed.

Item description: "No simple blades, these daggers date back to the time of the First Blight. They were crafted in the Tevinter Imperium as weapons to fight against the darkspawn horde, and fell in battle with the mages that first wielded them."

It's associated with Codex Entry: Thorn of the Dead Gods -

"In the moment that it struck, the blade of the Grey Warden who killed Toth, Archdemon of Fire, shattered into three pieces. After the Battle of Hunter Fell, the Wardens carried their fallen brother to Weisshaupt for a hero's burial, but the broken pieces of his sword were left behind. For years, the shards lay forgotten on the battlefield. Steel became etched with the corrupted blood of the dead god. They were eventually discovered by a Nevarran woman, searching among the bones for a sign of her lost son. She sold them to a blacksmith, not knowing what they truly were, for ten bits. The smith, however, knew that he had purchased more than scrap metal, and fashioned the shards into three identical daggers: the Thorns of the Dead Gods. They left his hands and were scattered to the far corners of Thedas. But everywhere they went, the Thorns left misery and loss in their wake. The woman who unearthed them died soon after of plague. The smith fell into his forge. Each person who has held one of the Thorns, even briefly, has died an untimely death."

[atlabeth]

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly. 

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere. 

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off. 

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray. 

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table. 

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them. 

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate. 

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t. 

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them. 

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened. 

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring. 

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”  

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—” 

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?” 

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors. 

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.” 

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol. 

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.” 

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you. 

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.” 

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.” 

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion. 

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.” 

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.” 

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—” 

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.” 

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.” 

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.” 

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.” 

You nodded. “With my life.” 

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way. 

2. The Pelican 

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken. 

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots. 

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at. 

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind. 

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.” 

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.” 

“So we meet again,” you said placidly. 

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.” 

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?” 

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.” 

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.” 

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder. 

“Will you sit still?” you snapped. 

“I am,” Nikolai said. 

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.” 

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.” 

You scowled, only making his smile grow. 

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.” 

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.” 

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.” 

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.” 

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.” 

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly. 

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?” 

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused. 

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.  

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything. 

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head. 

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.” 

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.” 

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point. 

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving. 

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently. 

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.” 

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.” 

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims. 

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.” 

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away. 

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka. 

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked. 

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?” 

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?” 

“Answer the question.” 

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back. 

When you did, he was gone. 

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all. 

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart. 

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle? 

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over. 

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause. 

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone. 

“Vlachka for your thoughts?” 

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood. 

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King. 

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said. 

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?” 

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.” 

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.” 

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?” 

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?” 

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.” 

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” 

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—” 

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.” 

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.” 

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.” 

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.” 

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”  

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.” 

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly. 

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked. 

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.” 

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either. 

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.” 

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him. 

“You’d do that for me?” 

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?” 

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again. 

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.” 

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?” 

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.” 

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it. 

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina. 

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly. 

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.” 

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long. 

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile. 

He knew exactly what he did to you. 

4. The Bittern 

Sergei sold you out. 

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get. 

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite. 

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save. 

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did. 

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over. 

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds. 

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough. 

And then your mind went to Nikolai. 

Nikolai. 

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety. 

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway. 

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?” 

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured. 

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?” 

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.” 

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle. 

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds. 

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate. 

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it. 

Saints, you wished you had. 

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai. 

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.” 

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you. 

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone. 

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling. 

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much. 

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened. 

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done. 

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it. 

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered. 

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel. 

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger. 

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him. 

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.” 

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?” 

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up. 

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were. 

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there. 

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part. 

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place. 

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.  

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much. 

5. The Shadow Fold 

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!” 

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall. 

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first. 

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning. 

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai. 

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?” 

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened. 

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name. 

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?” 

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back. 

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.” 

Darling. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.” 

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.” 

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.” 

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?” 

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.” 

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?” 

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.” 

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.” 

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said. 

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.” 

“Good.” 

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai. 

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?” 

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.” 

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.” 

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up. 

The Darkling’s Skiff 

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead. 

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive. 

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.” 

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.” 

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.” 

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled. 

A moment passed before he spoke again. 

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.” 

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on. 

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.” 

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.” 

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered. 

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—” 

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.” 

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating. 

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.” 

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had. 

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.” 

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris. 

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai. 

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest. 

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.” 

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.” 

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place. 

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you. 

And for now, that was more than enough. 

[luckymilkshakerebel]

A Fragile Break

Genre: angst ,hurt, comfort

Cast: changbin x reader

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the living room, and your heart immediately sank to the pit of your stomach. You stared at the shards of Changbin’s favorite figurine scattered across the floor, the one he had painstakingly saved for and proudly displayed in the center of the shelf. It had slipped from your hands while you were dusting, and now, the damage was done.

“Y/N, what was that?” Changbin’s voice called from the bedroom.

You froze, your hands trembling as you tried to collect the pieces. Just as you were about to hide them away, Changbin appeared in the doorway. His eyes immediately fell to the floor, where his cherished figurine lay in ruins.

“What… what did you do?” His voice was low, and the disappointment in his tone made your chest tighten.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, tears already forming in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” he snapped, his voice rising. “Do you know how much that meant to me, Y/N? That wasn’t just some random item—it was my favorite! I saved for months to get it, and now it’s gone!”

His words hit like a hammer, each one heavier than the last. “I know, and I feel terrible, but it was an accident, Changbin. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Sometimes it feels like you don’t think about anything! Do you ever care about the things that matter to me?” he shot back, his voice filled with frustration.

That comment broke something inside you. You stared at him, your lip trembling, but you didn’t respond. What could you even say? You hadn’t meant for this to happen, but now it felt like nothing you did mattered.

Without another word, you walked past him and into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Changbin didn’t follow, and the silence between you stretched on for days.

---

You and Changbin barely spoke after the fight. The tension in the air was suffocating, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. His words replayed in your mind on a loop, cutting deeper each time you thought about them.

But instead of wallowing in the guilt, you made a decision. You would replace what you had broken. You knew it wouldn’t erase the hurt, but it was the least you could do.

You started saving every bit of money you could. You skipped coffee runs, turned down outings with friends, and even sold a few of your own belongings to scrape together enough. It wasn’t easy, but you were determined. You have been searching everywhere and anywhere you can to find the exact same kind of figure that you broke. You have been quiet and stressed out to find out where to find.. and if there's no available in korea, you've been searching everywhere to post directly to korea..

In the meanwhile, Changbin noticed the change in you. He saw how quiet you had become, how you avoided being in the same room as him for too long. You no longer greeted him with a smile when he came home, and your usual warmth was replaced with a distant, hollow demeanor.

At first, he told himself you just needed space, but as the days turned into weeks, he grew restless. He hated the silence, hated seeing the light in your eyes dim.

One night, he found himself staring at the shelf where his broken figurine had once stood. The anger he had felt in the moment seemed so insignificant now compared to the emptiness that had taken its place.

“I was too harsh,” he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve listened. I should’ve—” His voice broke, and he slumped onto the couch, guilt weighing heavily on his chest.

---

Weeks later, after what felt like an eternity, you came home with a carefully wrapped box in your hands. You placed it on the dining table and called Changbin over.

He appeared in the doorway, his expression wary but curious. “What’s this?”

You gestured to the box. “Open it.”

Changbin hesitated before unwrapping the package. When he pulled away the last layer of paper, his eyes widened in shock. Inside was an identical version of the figurine he had lost.

“You… you replaced it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. “I know it’s not the same as the original, but I wanted to make it up to you. I’ve been saving up for weeks to get it.”

Changbin stared at the figurine, then at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders sagged with exhaustion. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks—you had been sacrificing so much, all because of him.

“Y/N…” He set the figurine down and stepped closer to you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I wanted to fix what I broke. I know how much it meant to you.”

He reached out, gently cupping your face and tilting it up so you were forced to look at him. His eyes were filled with regret. “I don’t care about the figurine anymore. I care about you. And I hate that I made you feel like you had to do this to make things right.”

“But you were so upset,” you whispered. “You said I didn’t care about the things that matter to you. I just wanted to prove that I do.”

Changbin’s heart ached at the pain in your voice. “I was wrong to say that. I was angry, and I let my emotions get the best of me. But none of this is your fault. It was an accident, Y/N. And I should’ve seen how much it hurt you too.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and this time, you couldn’t hold them back. “I just wanted to make you happy again.”

Changbin pulled you into a tight hug, holding you as if he were afraid you might slip away. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve been such an idiot, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m begging you to give me another chance.”

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting. “I just wanted things to go back to the way they were.”

“They will,” Changbin promised, his voice firm. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’ll never let my anger come between us again. You’re more important to me than any stupid figurine.”

---

From that day on, Changbin made it his mission to show you how much he cared. He planned little date nights, left sweet notes around the apartment, and made sure to remind you every day how much he loved and appreciated you.

It wasn’t just words—he proved it through his actions. He listened more, paid attention to the little things that made you happy, and made sure you never felt taken for granted again.

In time, the hurt began to fade, replaced by the love and trust you had always shared. And as you and Changbin sat together on the couch one evening, Dori curled up in your lap, you realized that even broken things could be mended—if both people were willing to put in the effort.

Life slowly returned to something resembling normal, though there were moments where the silence between you and Changbin still lingered—echoes of the distance the fight had created. But Changbin was determined to bridge that gap completely, refusing to let the damage remain.

One Saturday morning, you woke up to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. Groggily, you made your way out of bed to find Changbin standing by the stove, surrounded by bowls, utensils, and what looked like an entire carton of eggs spilled across the counter.

"Good morning!" he exclaimed, grinning sheepishly as he wiped his hands on his apron.

"What's all this?" you asked, blinking at the mess.

"I wanted to surprise you with breakfast," he said, gesturing to the frying pan where some pancakes were sizzling—albeit a little unevenly. "I thought you deserved to relax for once, especially after how much you've been doing lately."

Your lips twitched in amusement. "Looks like you're the one who needs to relax. You’ve got eggs on the floor."

He followed your gaze and groaned. "Okay, so maybe I’m not the best at this, but it’s the thought that counts, right?"

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head as you grabbed a towel to help him clean up. "It’s definitely the thought that counts."

---

Later that day, Changbin suggested a walk by the river. The air was crisp, the sun warming your skin as the two of you strolled side by side. He was uncharacteristically quiet, stealing glances at you every so often as if trying to gauge your mood.

Eventually, he stopped and turned to you. "Y/N, can I say something?"

You looked up at him, surprised by the serious tone in his voice. "Of course."

He took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. "I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened. About what I said to you that day. And I need you to know how deeply sorry I am. Not just for the fight, but for how I made you feel."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand to stop you.

"Please, let me finish," he said softly. "When I said those things, I wasn’t just angry—I was scared. That figurine, as stupid as it sounds, was something I cherished because it was a reminder of what I could accomplish if I worked hard enough. But I realize now that it doesn’t matter. You’re the one who makes me feel like I can do anything, Y/N. And the fact that I made you feel unimportant… I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his heartfelt confession. "Changbin, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I know you didn’t mean it."

"But I hurt you," he insisted, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. "And I don’t ever want to do that again. You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. I need you to know that."

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, letting his words sink in. Then, you gave him a small smile, squeezing his hands. "I know, Changbin. And I forgive you."

The relief on his face was immediate. He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "Thank you," he murmured. "I promise I’ll do better. I’ll always do my best for you."

---

True to his word, Changbin worked hard to show you how much you meant to him. He went out of his way to spend quality time together—planning spontaneous movie nights, taking you out to your favorite spots in the city, and even writing a little song for you that he shyly performed one evening when the two of you were curled up on the couch.

The song was simple but beautiful, a melody filled with heartfelt lyrics about love, forgiveness, and cherishing what truly mattered. By the time he finished, you were in tears, and Changbin was smiling sheepishly as he set his guitar down.

"Was it too much?" he asked nervously.

You shook your head, wiping your tears with a laugh. "No, it was perfect. You’re perfect."

He blushed at your words but pulled you into a warm hug, his voice soft as he whispered, "I’m just trying to make sure you never doubt how much I love you again."

And you didn’t.

With time, the wounds from the fight healed completely, replaced by a deeper understanding and love between the two of you. While the broken figurine would always be a memory of that difficult time, it also became a symbol of the strength and growth in your relationship—proof that even after something breaks, it can be rebuilt stronger than before.

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