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jeonbots · 3 years

Text

AJAR (1) | Jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook - fem. reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: demon!jungkook, nogitsune!jungkook, troubled!oc, minor character death, mentions of death, mention of a car accident, oc keeps nightmare-ing, jungkook is a fear demon, nogitsunes love chaos, mentions of sex, drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content such as oral (f receiving), fingering, breast playing, nipple sucking; dark rooms, blood, wounds, drugging, taehyung is a prick i'm sorry, poor oc just wants to sleep peacefully, jk won't let her, partying, overuse of the pet name ‘sugarplum’

words: 5k

a.n.: heyyyy! ik i was supposed to post that wizards of wavery place au but i havent finished it yet, i wasn't happy with it so i decided to change it up a bit. this story however has been in my drafts for about a year sooo here's the first part! it's gonna be a 2 part story :)))) enjoy

part two

/!\ UNEDITED /!\

—

You don’t remember the first time it happened. Or vaguely. Maybe five, six months ago? You’re not sure. But you do remember the darkness and the loneliness you felt at that moment. When you closed your eyes and you felt your body fall in an endless hole, skin itching uncomfortably. You had realized it itched because it was on fire, agony screeching out of your mouth and resonating in– in nothingness. And then you saw it. Its black, mundane eyes staring back at you like it was a hunter and you were its prey. You felt like suffocating until you had dug your nails into your palms hard to wake yourself up. Your body had jerked forward and you had screamed your lungs out until your throat burned, the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably. From this moment forward, you hadn’t sleep an entire night without waking up crying out loud in the middle of the night, your friend rushing to you. The first week, it was the same dream. The fall, your body on fire, the suffocating air, the piercing black eyes and your anxious and frightened awaking state.

The eighth night, you opened your eyes and found yourself on a cold floor, darkness surrounding you. You blinked a few times before adjusting to the poor lighting and suddenly your body shivered as you felt someone– or something– watching you intensely. You turned your head sideways trying to find the source of your discomfort but nothing was there. Until you heard it. A laughter. It was more of a snicker really, but it ran through your whole being, shaking your insides. The voice that had mocked you out loud had been so cold and dark, almost resembling a demon that you flinched. You tried to get on your feet but the cry that broke through you stopped you. You plopped back down on the floor, looking down at your body, taking in the deep cut and the blood pouring out of your right thigh.

“Help me! Please!” You cried, tears running down your face.

No response.

You lowered your head and sobbed. “I want to wake up.” You whispered, tears soaking your shirt.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. You weren’t sure. You just knew that you had stopped crying at some point. The wound on your leg didn’t seem to stop bleeding and you felt the life force being poured out of you everytime blood gushed out of your leg. You had laid back down on the cold marble, eyes closed and your arms and legs splayed out on the ground, resembling a starfish. The snicker from earlier returned and you abruptly opened your eyes, going in a sitting position and frenetically whipping your head around the area, searching for the source of your torments.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

The mocking grew closer and louder, and before you knew you were pulled back down on your back, breathe knocking out of you by the sheer force of the impact. You felt your arms move on their own accord, coming to lay against your sides as slender fingers grabbed your ankle and dragged you across the room, ignoring your pleas and cries for help.

“Let me in, sugarplum.”

It was softer than the snicker, but you still caught the dark timbre lying underneath.

“Who–”

Your body suddenly came to a halt and when you looked up, a large figure was towering over you. The jolt of surprise coming out of your mouth when the stranger bent down didn’t go unnoticed as you could make out rosy lips smirking right at you in the darkness. You shuddered as the stranger passed their fingers up your leg, ghosting over your wound before pressing down on it harshly with his palm. You cried out and tried to back off but your attempts were futile as two strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, throwing you over a strong shoulder as they began to walk to some direction, you didn’t really know. You thrashed in the stranger’s hold, crying even more than before and before you knew, you were carelessly thrown on a mattress. Seconds later you heard footsteps and the click of a door, meaning you had been locked up in some room.

You sighed shakily as you glanced around the room. On your right, there was a small dusty bedside table with one drawer, a small lamp put on top of it and a box of matches right next to it. In the corner of the room, you could make out a maroon desk with some journals sprawled out on top of it and next to it a door closed, probably the one the stranger used to bring you here. However, on the opposite wall to your right there was another door. This one was slightly open. You frowned and forced yourself to get off the mattress, struggling to get on your feet. The second you were standing your legs gave away and you fell forward, landing on the nearest wall as your palms impacted your fall. The wall rubbed harshly against your skin as you let out a small cry, gasping at the pain running throughout your entire body.

How could a dream feel so real?

You brushed the thoughts off and started walking towards what you thought was your only way out of there, even if you knew deep down that it was not. You still were pretty much pressed against the wall, slowly making your way towards the strange door. When you finally reached it, you pressed a hand firmly against the wall as the other went to shakily grab the handle.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sugarplum.”

You froze.

No. Please.

You didn’t move. Not an inch. Not even to open the door completely or to turn around to meet your captor. But you sensed him shifting closer until his front was pressed against your back, an arm snaking around your waist to keep you close as you closed your eyes instinctively. His breathe fanned over your shoulder, lips brushing against your ear.

“Do you really want to face your biggest fears now?” He whispered.

“Please... let me go...” You whimpered.

“This is not the way out, sugarplum.”

He grabbed at your hips and spun you around and you yelped when you were met with familiar black eyes. Your own eyes grew wide and you took a few steps back until your back hit the wall softly. Even in all this darkness, the only thing you could make out about his appearance was complete dark and cold set of eyes.

“If you want out,” he followed your steps until he was hovering above your fragile and wounded form, “you just gotta let me in.” He ducked his head into the space between your neck and shoulder, nipping at your earlobe.

“Who are you?” You breathe out, staring at an invisible dot at the wall opposite to the one you’re pressed against.

He chuckled against your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. Yeah, that was straight up demonic.

He pulled his head out of your neck and leaned an arm on one side of your head against the wall and brought the other one around your jaw, lifting your head up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“Your worst nightmare, sugarplum.”

Then he laughed. It rang loud enough in your ear and you could hear the darkness in his mocking tone as he turned around and walked away from you. And suddenly, you were screaming. Screaming as you sat up in familiar warmth, hands fisting your sheets and tears running down your face. Realization dawn upon you as your cries had lowered in volume and you quickly pushed the covers aside, relief washing over you as your right thigh was not wounded. No blood, no horrible deep cut that made you want to puke. Your breathing was labored as you whimpered, the door of your room opening in a hurry.

“Fuck.” Your friend cursed out before making her way to you, sitting on the bed.

“I–I’m fine, I’m okay. It’s okay.” You avoided her gaze, hand coming to wipe off the tears on your red cheeks.

“No, you’re not Y/N. How long are you gonna keep this up? It’s been a whole fucking week and I don’t fucking know what’s happening to you. It scares the shit out of me.” Henri softly grabbed your head in her two hands, turning your head to meet her gaze as she rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs in a comforting way.

You breathed out shakily. “I think I’m going crazy.” You whispered, lower lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill out again.

“Let’s get you some help. Please.” She pleaded as she bore her eyes into yours. You nodded after a long minute and you saw the look of relief wash over your best friend’s face. She leaned forward as she pressed a kiss to your forehead then engulfing you in his arms. You rested your head on her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

“So, what happened before the incident?”

Three weeks later you were in seated in a beige sofa– a pretty comfy one, you had to admit– for your fourth therapy session with an older woman facing you on her baby pink armchair, her auburn hair styled up in a neat bun, a white dress-shirt tucked in a surprisingly colorful long skirt covering her legs as she had crossed one over the other. You learned after your first session that she liked fashion, noticing that her outfits were always on point and that she definitely should give you some advice. When you had woken up this morning, you had taken a quick shower and thrown on a grey sweater with matching grey sweatpants, not bothering to put make-up on. Why would you? You were about to talk about your deepest fears with a total stranger. You were glancing at the clock hung up on the wall nervously before she spoke up again at your silence.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Y/N.” Her tone was soft and you felt your throat tighten.

You cleared your throat rather awkwardly. “Uh, I was out with some friends.” You nodded mostly to yourself but she hummed, telling you that she was all ears even though she was sometimes glancing down at her notepad to write something. “And, uh, there was this new club that opened on South Lake. We wanted to check it out and we were dressed accordingly so... we went. When we arrived there, the club was pretty full and we lost track of each other at some point... Uh, and I was pretty drunk. So I made out with a friend of mine and we uh, fucked. Yeah, pretty intense fuck if you ask me.” You laugh awkwardly as you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. She was comforting, somehow.

“So yeah, I fucked the guy then I called my br-”

The words died in your throat as you froze. Clarisse felt you tense under her stare but nothing changed on her face.

“You were going to talk about your older brother, Jason?”

You lowered your head and started fidgeting with your fingers placed in your lap, gulping as you felt your eyes water. You hadn’t realized in your storytelling that you were going to have to bring up that subject at some point. You nodded shakily, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I should’ve never done that.” You whispered and the last words came out in a broken whimper. The woman opened her mouth, about to talk but was cut off by your sudden voicing.

“Is it over yet?” Clarisse jumped slightly at the way you had abruptly raised your head, looking at the awful clock as you brought your hands to your face to wipe off the tears with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Y/N–”

“Oh,” you fake-heartedly laughed, cheeks still stained with wetness, “would you look at that! It’s been an hour already.”

“Wait–”

“Goodbye, Ms. Blackwood.”

You had already grabbed your bag and bolted out of the door as Clarisse sat on her chair, dumbfounded.

You never went back to therapy. A small part of you felt bad for leaving the kind woman in her confusion but the other part– the larger one– was relieved you didn’t have to go through painful memories anymore.

College isn’t as hard as you’ve imagined. Ever since your brother’s death you had found the world of books and words fascinating. At first, your roommate would ogle at you like you were some kind of wild animal who had escaped from the zoo then she understood the change in behavior. You were quite the party girl before the car crash; always going out with friends, having fun in summer homes or going to frat parties. And now you’ve become what people call a ‘bookworm’. Of course, it doesn’t take your mind off the horrendous and painful nightmares you’re having every night, but it helps get yourself distracted from the intense ache in your chest. At first you had tried booze to keep your mind off the terrible monsters haunting you but all it did was giving you painful aftermath headaches and a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach. The last time you got really drunk, you threw up your entire stomach in some random front lawn and you collapsed on the grass, dazing off to a sleeping state. And your eyes closed slowly until you woke up in a familiar dark room, pleading and begging to be released.

You swore you’d never drink again.

“Y/N!” A warm breathe tickles the side of your face and you turn your head sideway to face the person who’s arm is draped around your shoulders, the other coming to settle around your waist, clinging to you loosely.

“You’re drunk,” you state, looking at your friend’s giggling form.

“And you’re not,” she pouts as she leans a bit more on your frame. “Come on, get drunk with us Y/N.” Her words are slurred.

“Henri,” you sigh. Your nightmares aren’t unknown to your friend, in fact, when it first happened, she was the first person you called, your sobbing making her heart ache through the receiver. She had decided to join you that night, knocking at your door fifteen minutes later, hands full of junk food and candy. You had spent majority of the night laughing and eating your fears away, Henri wanting to make you feel better. After that night, she’d decided to move in with you.

You look down your half-empty cup, the brown-ish liquid taunting you. You can practically see its mocking smile, waves of gold beaming through the dark beverage. “You know I won’t.” Before she can protest though, her warmth disappears and you hear her gasp and you see from the corner of your eyes the boy you recognize as her boyfriend Justin pressing his lips against hers, silently rolling your eyes.

The living room is packed with people grinding against each other, kissing in corners or going up the stairs, probably to fuck their sexual frustration away. Justin’s frat house always throws the most anticipated parties in the campus, and of course Henri wouldn’t miss it for the world. They’re like– the must-go parties, house full of free booze and weed in every corner, half of the campus always attends them. You hadn’t gone to a party in forever though, still traumatized by the last time you were blackout drunk but Henri had insisted the whole week and you said yes just a few hours ago. You didn’t feel like dressing up but she almost screamed at you to at least make an effort and you settled on a high-waisted black denim skirt that stops mid-thigh and a black tube top tucked underneath with some white sneakers after a long hour of Henri rummaging through your closet.

“Y/N!”

Turning your head to the familiar voice, you smile as the dark-haired man you’ve grown to appreciate the company of walks towards you with his own beaming smile.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” He engulfs you in his arms as you giggle before awkwardly patting his back with your free hand.

“I’ve missed you too, Taehyung.”

Justin was the one to introduce you to Taehyung at his birthday party three years ago. He had been Justin’s drug dealer for quite a few years and he had been hooking you up ever since. Deciding to stop doing drugs ultimately made you stop calling Taehyung for weed and cocaine, and you two lost touch as the months went by.

“It’s been– what, about a year?” He says as he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. You briefly glance at his appearance, loose black dress shirt and the tight fitting jeans hanging on his hips. The shirt’s collar is large enough to have his collarbone peeking out of the fabric, your thighs clenching under your skirt. You skillfully hide your evident arousal as you learned to do over the years and look back up only to find yourself squirming when you notice his lingering gaze on your breasts covered by the thin fabric of the tube top. He slowly licks his lips and you bite back a whine, your slick arousal already starting to seep through your panties and onto your inner thighs.

“Ten months,” you correct with an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” he looks back into your eyes at your words and nods before looking around the place, not an ounce of shame taking over his features for being caught staring. “Uh, I haven’t had the chance to, uh, say it but I’m sorry for your loss.”

You gulp as you look down at your drink. “Thanks–”

“W-well not the chance but you know what I mean.”

You giggle as you shake your head. “It’s okay. Thank you, Tae. It really means a lot.”

Memories flood through your mind as you recall the times you would get high with Henri, Justin, Taehyung and a few other friends before the accident, all spread out on the couch and the carpet of some random house as you’d talk and laugh about basically anything. You’d say those were the happiest moments of your life and you’d do anything to turn back time and have this short yet vivid moment of happiness running through your veins just one more time, dopamine spreading through your whole being. And those nights you had spent in Taehyung’s bed, his cock pounding your walls as he sucked bruises onto your skin, the delicious drag of his length sending you over the edge.

As if answering your– unwanted –prayers, Taehyung slowly approaches you with a sly smirk, a hand propped on the counter beside your hip as he leans over your figure. You look up at him quizzically.

“I thought maybe,” he licks his lips as he glances down at your lips and back at your eyes, “you’d want to have some fun.”

You raise an eyebrow as his free hand digs into his jeans’ pocket, a small plastic bag dangling from his fingers as he lifts his hand at eyes level. You’d recognize those blue pills anywhere.

“No.”

“C’mon, Y/N. Just one, like old times.”

The hand that was on the counter comes hovering your neck, his slender fingers softly caressing the skin there. You shudder as his palm grabs your nape more firmly, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck.

“Taehyu–”

His sudden lips on your ear clamps your mouth shut and your eyes flutter, the lids closing as he starts to suck on the lobe. The grip on your half-empty cup weakens and you hastily put it down on the counter behind you, a few droplets of alcohol spilling on the marble. He presses his chest against yours as he starts kissing down your neck, licking and sucking until he reaches your collarbone where he vacuums the skin in his pink-tinted lips, a whimper making its way past your own. His arms snake around your waist and press you even harder against him as you grab his biceps for leverage, his hard-on poking at your thigh as you gradually let your head fall back.

You don’t notice the small blue pill he manages to sneakily drop into your beverage, its shape dissolving in the drink to slowly disappear into the abyss of its intoxication.

“Holy fuck.”

Your back arched against the mattress and your eyes closed in unadulterated bliss as Taehyung laps at your clit, you moan shamelessly as your hips jerk at each flick of his tongue against your cunt. He hungrily devours your sex and your buzzed state doesn’t protest even after your third orgasm. You still haven’t touched his cock.

“Ho– fuck– Tae, stop, I can’t– ngh– too much.”

He reluctantly leans away from your pussy, mouth and chin covered in your juices as he hovers your fucked out state, his smirk growing wider as he wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

“I still gotta fuck you full of my cum, baby.”

You release a shaky breath as you bite your lower lip, one hand seductively traveling down the expense of his chest through his shirt as your lust-painted eyes drink in his features. As you reach down his jeans, you subtly grab his crotch as you palm his hardened length, his breathing growing heavier.

“You’re still that needy?” He chuckles and you nod, boring your eyes into his as you lean forward to pepper kisses on his jaw.

You whine when his deft fingers rub your slit, coating his digits with your cum. “Fuck me, please. It’s been so long.”

“I know baby, I know.” He suddenly shoves two fingers in your sloppy hole, a moan slipping past your lips. “Gotta stretch you first for my cock.”

The sudden yet pleasurable stretch has your eyes rolling back in your skull, his skillful fingers pumping in and out of your heat at a delirious pace as your hands fist the sheets beneath you. His thumb comes rubbing at your clit and your hips jerk in his palm, loud moans escaping your parted lips. The stretch of a third finger in your walls has your orgasm spiraling at full speed, untamed pleasure hitting you for the fourth time tonight, your lips parting in a silent scream as you plop your head back down on the sheets.

“Fuck,” the man curses under his breath as he lazily fucks you through your climax, his own hard-on becoming way too painful. You slowly catch your breath as his fingers slip out of your heat and he presses his hips into yours, your thighs caging his waist.

You smile up at him through closed eyes, your high slowly descending and when your heartbeat regains its original pace, you open your eyes.

And your smile falters.

Familiar cold dark orbs are staring right back at you instead of the warm brown of Taehyung’s pupils, and you try to squirm away but find it impossible as the same invisible force pins you down.

“I– you–”

He chuckles.

“Sugarplum, long time no see.” His hand strokes your hair and you whimper, your legs still locked around the man’s waist.

“Please,” you whisper weakly, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sugarplum.”

In this new lighting and his proximity, you can see the man’s face clearer than any of the previous encounters. As he leans forward to nose at your cheek, you can finally see his features and your lips part in shock.

His eyes are beautiful. A dazing shape, his dark orbs morphing into soft doe eyes, the tip of his nose almost kissable and his lips– God, his lips look delicious. Soft, plump lips so inviting, and you can’t help the hand hovering his face, your fingers gently caressing his plumpness. His dark hair falls messily around his head and you have the sudden urge to comb your fingers through his locks just to feel the silk-like strands through your digits.

He is demonically magnificent.

His free hand reaches to envelop your curious one, his eyes boring into yours. You shudder under his gaze and instead of cowering, you bring your other hand to push a strand away from his forehead.

“See? I’m no monster.” He smiles sweetly– almost too sweetly– and you gulp.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’ve told you countless times, sugarplum.”

His hand slides to your wrist in a harsh grip and you gasp as the other hand curls around your neck, squeezing your throat as he cuts off your air supply.

“Let me in.”

You whimper as the grip on your throat is unbearable, making you writhe under his hold. His hips ruth into yours and your naked cunt rubs against the material of his pants harshly, the outline of his obviously hard cock digging into your slit. As you feel yourself slowly falling into unconsciousness, he releases your throat and ascends down to your collarbone, reaching your tube top and pulling it down, a moan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your bare breasts. Each of his hand cups your mounds, his thumbs and forefingers pinching each pebbled nipple as you whine, your teeth caging your lower lip in a futile attempt to keep quiet. He notices that and releases a breast to harshly slap your thigh around his waist. You jolt in surprise and look at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t hold back. You sounded so sweet earlier.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he dives his head in, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck on the mound as he squeezes the other with his hand, pinching the nub in between his fingers. The moan that escapes your lips is unraveling, your hips automatically grinding against his in hope to find purchase. When he’s done with one breast, he does the same to the other one before pulling away, a hand stroking your hair affectionately as he stares at you.

“So beautiful.”

The blush on your cheeks isn’t going unnoticed and he smirks, his gaze lingering on your breasts heaving due to your ragged breathing. He then looks back up at your face before leaning forward and gently pecking your lips in a close-mouthed kiss, once, twice, then he starts trailing down your jaw to your neck, sucking bruises for everyone to see. You whine as you thread your fingers in his hair, and before you register it he has plunged two fingers in your heat, your stomach clenching to oversensitivity.

You moan as you buck your hips in his hand, surprised to even have enough energy to respond to the demon’s ministrations. His fingers are thick enough to hit all the right places and when his thumb strokes your engorged clit, your fifth orgasm of the night couldn’t have come sooner, a drawn-out moan escaping your swollen lips. As your walls squeeze his fingers deeply in your pussy, he groans above you before planting kisses down your throat. Leaning away from your neck as he pulls his fingers out, your arousal drips down his digits and you see strings of your slick juices connecting them when he parts them. Embarrassment manifesting in the red of your cheeks, you stare at the man happily lapping at his arousal-coated fingers, his pink lips wrapped around the skin.

“H–how did I get here?” You quietly ask as soon as your breathing came to normal. His furrowed eyebrows encourage the next words flowing past your lips, his digits falling free from the grip of his lips.

“I– I wasn’t asleep nor drunk and–”

The entire evening you made sure that you weren’t drinking too much, even had Justin’s special party booze out of tonight’s menu. Surely, you would remember if you had fallen asleep. Wait, had you passed out while Taehyung was fucking you? No way, you weren’t drunk. You hadn’t taken any substance or drugs or pills-

Pills. Blue, soft, dangerous pills.

Realization hits you in the guts and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. The way he had kissed your neck, your momentarily forgotten cup on the counter, his wandering hands–

“He,” you whisper, breath hitching as you choke out a whimper, “he drugged me?”

Gently, he places a kiss on your cheek. “Sugarplum.”

“He– he drugged me, and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” The aching in your chest is too much for your heavy state and you start blinking away tears you didn’t know had started to pool at the corner of your eyes.

He sighs above you, his breath fanning over your face. Plopping down on the space next to you on the bed as he frees himself from the grip your thighs had around him, his hand gently strokes your naked waist until he reaches your breast, softly rubbing the skin as his thumb lightly flicks over your nipple. In an attempt to soothe your pain, you assume.

Trust is overrated, you conclude.

Here you are; crying over a man you’d learn to like over the past few years as the man you’ve been running from comforts your burning heart.

“It is,” he affirms and you don’t even question how he managed to answer your unspoken thoughts. The sob that breaks past your lips is heart wrenching and you bring your hands to your face, covering the entirety of it as the tears flow freely down your face.

He turns to you and envelops your shaken form in his embrace, your chest pressed against his as he runs a soothing hand down the expanse your bare back. And that’s how you fall asleep that night, without the nightmare that usually haunts your sleepless mind and instead, you find solace in the very man you’d grown to despise.

-----

#jungkook reader #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook #jungkook smut #smut #angst #fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #taehyung #kim taehyung

144 notes · View notes

bastillewolf · 4 years

Note

Hey I know you probably have like a billion requests already but maybe you could do something where the reader is good friends with corpse (maybe with some unspoken feelings) and they ask him to visit their country side home lmao-

I'm really embarrassed about asking this and I know it sounds strange but being out in the country side can be really good for mental health and I just want this boi to heal--

I'm so sorry hahah

Thanks

That’s not strange at all, darling!! I love this ask! I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer this, my mental health hasn’t been very good lately. I suppose I found this ask rather appropriate and I guess that’s why I liked writing it so much. Hope you enjoy!

Sunrise, Sunset - Oneshot

Pairings: Corpse Husband / Reader.

“Yo,” is the first thing you hear as you open your Discord. It’s not his regular greeting, and he sounds more tired than usual.

“What’s up?” you asked curiously. “Everything okay? Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got really busy.”

“I can tell from your voice,” you chuckled. It had more of a rasp to it- if that was even possible.

“Yea, I can’t do too much for too long. I love that I’m able to work on music now, but it exhausts my voice so much that I can’t even stream sometimes.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” you comment.

“Probably. It’s almost done, so then I can stream more,” he replies.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Hm?”

“I’m talking about an actual break, from everything.”

You hear him exhale deeply as if he’d already been considering it himself. “That does sound very nice.”

“I know, I always have the best ideas.”

“You do, except you forgot about the fact that I can’t really go anywhere. I mean, I’d love to take a break, but if I just sit here at home, I’m gonna either end up doing nothing or start working anyways. I don’t see me relaxing that way.”

“I didn’t forget about anything; I just hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Oh?”

You’d be lying if you said that noise didn’t make you blush. “Remember how I said I live in the countryside? You know, it’s quite cosy here, and I have a guest bedroom to spare. If you want, but only if you’re comfortable with it, you could come over.”

It was quiet for a moment and your poor nerves were wondering if you’d said something completely wrong. You knew how he was about his privacy, but you’d figured that having known each other for a more than a few months now, you’d be at a point where you’d become actual friends, especially considering you always talked over Discord. At least, when he wasn’t busy.

“I... You wouldn’t mind?” he asked softly.

“Of course not!” You immediately replied, trying your best to make him feel as welcome as possible. “It’ll be so much fun! I was just worried you wouldn’t feel comfortable with it, otherwise, I would’ve invited you over a lot sooner.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes! I’m always looking for people to take care of my chickens.”

“You have chickens?” he sputtered.

“Sure do. And that was a joke, by the way.”

He didn’t really give you much time to prepare. He’d instantly asked if he could come over in two days, which meant you had to clean, do the groceries, and have another mental breakdown within that short time.

When he did arrive at your relatively small but homely cottage, you knew that even if you’d had more time, you still wouldn’t have felt like you’d prepared enough. You were incredibly nervous, especially as the cab slowed to a nerve-wracking speed until it finally stopped in front of your little wooden fence that really couldn’t keep anyone out of your garden because it was so ramshackle.

You nod your head to the driver politely, who got out of the car to unload a bag from the trunk. Then, the door opened, ringed fingers sliding across the yellow polish on the metal framing. He pulled himself up and out, finally allowing you to take a good look at his face.

His hair was dark and curly, as to be expected from what you’d seen in the pictures, though you could barely see it underneath the hood he’d pulled up. His dark brown eyes immediately found yours, and a shy smile graced his lips, which you bashfully returned with a small wave. It made you want to hit yourself multiple times. He paid the cabby and thanked him, allowing you to take a good look at his attire, at his frame, at his whole being. He was wearing a black hoodie with some chains around it, along with dark baggy trousers and, go figure, black sneakers. He was slightly slouching, probably so the driver wouldn’t be able to make out his face in its entirety, but overall he looked lean, even while his face was more pale and tired, with dark circles surrounding his eyes.

He locked the creaky wooden fence behind him, quickly closing the distance between you two with only a few strides. He dropped his backpack on the floor, saying, “hi.” “Hey,” you replied with that stupid smile still on your face and now quite possibly a hint of red dusting your cheeks. He just chuckled at the slight awkwardness of the situation, before wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug. He smelled like nice cologne, and he gave really good hugs. It said a lot that you could tell that from just the one. “Thanks for letting me come over,” he muttered, finally allowing himself to sound as exhausted as he looked.

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

When you met his eyes again as he pulled back, you knew he was quietly telling you that it meant more to him than that. Feeling shy under his dark gaze, you shook your head, saying, “Come on, let me show you around.”

It wasn’t that big of a tour, but it was home and it was comfortable, so you never felt embarrassed about it. You made enough money, to be fair, from your career through YouTube, but you’d never really had the heart to leave the house. At least you had a guest bedroom, and the garden was something to dream of. To trade that in for a bit more storage space would be such a pity.

“-and this is going to be your room, for however long you wish to stay,” you finish with a flourish of your hand. He set his suitcase down on the freshly made bed and nodded, glancing around for a bit before his eyes landed back on you. “Did I tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for me?”

You huff, “Once or twice now.”

“I’ll be off your back in a few days, don’t worry. I think I just needed to get out of my stuffy apartment for a bit.”

“Stay as long as you’d like,” you told him assuredly, “I know how stressful it can be and I haven’t even been through what you have. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

He shrugs, “I have my ups and downs. It’s mostly my health issues and anxiety holding me back.”

“Well, I hope you can relax a bit here, then. People seem to feel more at ease without a bustling city around them,” you said.

He glanced out the window and nodded. “Yeah, I immediately noticed it as I got out of the car. It’s so... quiet here. And the air, of course. It’s so much nicer.”

“I usually take walks in the early mornings. You should come along sometime if you’d like. The sunrise is always really pretty when you get up on the hill.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” you replied, clapping your hands together, “I’ll let you get settled and start dinner. The uh- the bathroom is shared, I left a stack of towels on the rack so you can use those.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

You nodded shyly, silently closing the door behind you as you stepped into the hall. You let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the wall, pressing the backs of your hands against your cheek in a vain attempt to cool down the heat and tone down the redness. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d reacted this way but the times you’d spend talking about everything and nothing with Corpse through Discord calls that lasted until the early mornings. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way. You didn’t want to risk the friendship you had with him, but the tingling that had sprouted in your gut the moment he’d gotten out of that car told you that this was going to be hard.

You knocked on his door quietly, afraid you were accidentally going to wake him when he didn’t want to be awoken. You didn’t know what kind of morning person he’d be, but he told you yesterday that he wanted to join you for your walk today. And while you were going to leave half an hour later than usual because it took you that long to work up the courage to knock on his door, meaning you were going to have to hurry a bit to catch the sun rising, you were still scared he was going to react grouchily. But when he opened the door, already dressed and ready to go, you realized you’d foolishly forgotten that this wasn’t just anyone, but that this was one of your friends; someone you already knew, even if it hadn’t been physically. Of course, he’d open the door with a smile, even though he looked more tired than the day before, which worried you.

“How did you sleep?” You made it evident in your tone that you were rather scared to ask the question, but it made him chuckle.

“I think you already know the answer to that. I don’t sleep well in general, so don’t worry. It has nothing to do with the bed or your hospitality.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, I don’t mind being woken up.”

He shook his head as he followed you downstairs and out the front door. “To be fair, I slept more than I usually would, but your rooster woke me up.”

You laughed, “Yea, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about that.” You held the wooden fence gate open for him, following him to the grass field until you were walking next to him. You silently picked up your pace a bit, worrying that you might miss the sunrise when you had promised it to him.

“I know, I know,” he replied amusedly, “Can we go see them later? The chickens?”

“Sure,” you smiled, “I also have a few ducks. You’ll love them, they’ll try to rip the shoelaces from your feet.”

“Sounds great.”

The walk to the hill wasn’t too far, but the hill was quite steep, which was always an exercise for people who walked with you for the first time, so you’d figured he’d start trailing behind you after some time. Thing is, he started trailing behind relatively earlier than you had expected him to.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you called out, “you good? We’re almost there.”

He nodded, though you could see him slightly panting, and you turned around to jog up the last bit until you reached the top. You could see a sliver of light start to peek over the horizon, making you glance back to see how far away he was.

But instead of having moved forward, he was now sort of slouched over, holding his stomach as he panted loudly. “Shit,” you cursed yourself as you sprinted back down until you skidded to a stop in front of him. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I should have slowed down-“

“It’s fine,” he waved you off, slowly catching his breath. “I can do it, I just take a bit longer.”

“I’ll carry you if I have to. I got us into this mess.”

He chuckled, but it sounded a bit hoarse.

“Come on,” you said. He furrowed his brow in confusion but followed you anyway. Walking along the side of the hill was tricky, but you made it around without any issues. He was able to keep up this time and gratefully plopped down on the grass beside you, just in time to watch the sun fully appear from behind the horizon.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yea, it never really gets old.” You laid down, feeling twigs of grass tickle the bareback of your neck.

He joined you, scooting a bit closer until your arms were brushing against each other. You couldn’t tell if he’d done it on purpose, so you acted like it hadn’t affected you, keeping your eyes fixed on the sky above you. At least, you tried. They flickered when you felt fingertips graze across your lower arm until they reached your palm, where his nails slowly dragged along your skin until his warm digits intertwined with yours. His rings felt cool against the heat and tingling you were suddenly feeling in your hand. He didn’t let go of you, not as you laid there for what seemed like hours, nor during the entire walk back.

‘Is this what friends do?’ you were silently asking yourself, watching the ducks try to free his shoes from its laces, ‘is this what friends do when they need support? Is this his way of coping, or is it-‘ You quickly shook the thought away. Of course, he wouldn’t think of you that way. He probably did stuff like this with all his friends. You knew how playful he could get, his guy friends included.

Yeah, it was just that. It had to be.

You were both laid back on the couch that night, stuffed to the brink with the famous lasagne you’d put together. The TV was on, but it sounded more like static noise in the background. “I think I can just fall asleep right here,” you hummed. The glass of red wine you’d shared – because neither of you could handle liquor – had created a pleasant buzz between the two of you.

“That seems a lot less comfortable than your bed.”

“You don’t know a thing about my bed,” you huffed indignantly.

It was quiet for a moment then, a sliver of tension seeping through the warmth of your home. “I think it’s probably about as comfortable as mine, otherwise you’re treating your guests too much,” he replied.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I’ve actually never slept in the guest bedroom. I might just be treating my guests too much and I’d never even know about it.”

He suddenly sat up and turned the TV off. “Come on,” he said and was already up the stairs by the time you’d made an attempt to move.

When finally reached the upstairs and were about to round the corner, you were suddenly picked up and slung over his shoulder, causing you to let out a loud shriek. “Corpse!” you laughed, “Please put me down!”

“You were taking too long,” he grumbled, dropping you down on the bed unceremoniously. He shuffled over until he was laying down next to you and lifted the covers up until it reached your neck.

“So?” he asked.

You had your eyes closed. “I might be treating my guests too much.”

He snorted. “Fucking knew it,” which made you laugh.

You laid there for quite a while, not really caring if either of you fell asleep with your regular clothes still on. “Hey Corpse?”

He hummed.

“I’m really glad you came. It gets lonely over here sometimes.”

He shifted, but because it was so dark you couldn’t really see what he was doing. Suddenly though, you felt him hovering over you, his elbows resting on either side of your face as his hand reached across to move a strand of hair to the side. He leaned down and hesitantly, his lips barely touched yours, a silent question if this was okay. You moved back against him, your hand finding his cheek in the darkness. His kisses were gentle, but passionate, which made your breaths heavier and deeper. When you pulled apart, you were both breathing heavily, mostly from the tension that had arisen.

“I really like you,” you admitted.

“Good,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you until you were tucked against his chest. You hit his arm playfully, “Cocky bastard.”

You hear the smirk in his voice as he said goodnight.

TAG LIST CLOSED!

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ghoulangerlee · 3 years

Note

kisses on the forehead or kisses from behind for Malex😊

so it takes me a while to write oops, but I didn't quite have inspiration but then 3x08 happened and well... y'know. I GUESS this could be considered a 3x08 coda because it takes place after The Kiss sorta. I haven't watched 3x09 yet so.

So, this is just. sweet and syrupy smut; there's both forehead kisses and kisses from behind ;;

Really though, sometimes you just wanna see Michael fucking Alex and like, write what you wanna see and all that hahaha.

Posted on tumblr bc I'm in denial that I'm writing for this fandom oop. (Side note: If you wanna support a writer I do have a ko-fi :). Please be gentle this is the first time I've written smut since like, before April this year.)

it's all under the read more because it immediately starts as smut, sorry adlkfjd.

------

Michael drops a tender kiss to the back of Alex’s neck as he settles on his knees between Alex’s spread legs, one hand curled around his thigh, shifting it outward until he’s spread just so.

Alex sighs out Michael’s name, turning his head to the side so he can watch the man from the corner of his eye—the early morning light is just now coming through the slats of the blinds, peeking through the curtains and it bathes Michael in a warm glow that almost makes everything feel like a dream.

It’s not though, a dream, finally after so much time apart, he—they can have this again, but slower now, less of a crash landing and more like coming home.

“This comfortable?” Michael’s voice is barely above a whisper, his words spoke into the soft skin behind Alex’s ear as he settles his weight down onto Alex.

A hum forces it’s way out of Alex’s throat, soft and pleased as he bends his other knee a little, using the leverage to push back against Michael, feeling where the other man is hard and ready, “S’good,” he finally manages, the words thick in his mouth, syrupy.

A soft hiss falls from Michael’s lips, the rush of cool air against Alex’s skin making him shudder, already so over sensitive from the soft, careful touches that Michael had woken him up with that morning. “I think we can make it better than just good,” he whispers, pressing another kiss behind Alex’s ear, “You up for it?”

Alex snorts softly, reaching back to halfheartedly swat at Michael’s side, the early morning must be getting to him, the new vulnerability of the two of them being together make Alex a little sentimental, a little honest, and before he can stop himself—“I’d been hoping for something like this for longer than I’d been willing to admit to myself.” He admits, voice quiet but clear, “I couldn’t dare to hope and now…”

Though he trails off, Michael seems to understand the implication as he shifts to the side, just enough to make the next kiss land somewhere near Alex’s lips, and when Alex turns his head just right, he catches Michael’s mouth in a kiss so sweet and slow that Michael’s weight presses him down more into the bed as a warm hand curls around his jaw, taking some of the strain off, holding him there for several long moments.

Distantly, Alex realizes that it’s Michael’s left hand, something that was once a reminder that what they had couldn’t be anything beyond a secret somewhere in the desert, but now—there’s no bandana wrapped around his hand anymore, there hasn’t been last night when Michael kissed him at the Pony, either, and something releases in his chest, something warm and happy—love.

“Michael,” Alex murmurs when they finally break apart, “Michael, I need—”

Michael’s lips press against Alex’s temple, “I’ve got you,” he whispers, dropping another kiss to his hairline before he pulls back, grabbing for the lube he’d tucked under his shin earlier, trying to warm it.

He smooths a hand down Alex’s back, shushing him softly when he makes a noise of discontent, “I’m not going nowhere,” he promises, voice low and full of intent, “Finally got you where I want you and I plan to take advantage of it.”

As he speaks, he’s squeezing lube onto his fingers, spreading it slowly as he closes the cap and drops it back down to bed, “Easy now,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alex’s shoulder blade as he presses a finger into him slowly.

“Michael,” Alex breathes out then, at the careful, gentle touch, slow and easy like they’ve got all the time in the—

Oh. He realizes as Michael’s finger slides in deeper, they do have time now, they can afford themselves this luxury of taking things slow, of exploring each other and relearning everything that drives the other crazy.

“Michael,” he says again, clenching his fingers in the sheets, pressing his forehead against his wrist as he squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of emotion that seizes him.

It’s new and he thinks, briefly that he might be moving way too fast in the grand scheme of things but this is what love feels like. This is what loving Michael Guerin is supposed to be.

Michael presses a kiss to Alex’s shoulder, “You still with me?” he murmurs, curling his finger in a way that has Alex gasping and shifting under him. “Seems like you’re thinking too hard for what’s going on right now.” He whispers the words into Alex’s skin, and Alex can feel the curl of his lips as he says it, playful and teasing.

“Thinking about you,” Alex manages, the words muffled into the skin of his wrist, “Always thinking about you.”

Michael hums at that, and Alex hears the click of the lube cap again before another finger presses inside him, the suddenness causing him to gasp, “I’m right here, baby,” he says, voice filled with soft amusement, “Don’t have to think that hard about me.”

When Alex groans this time, it’s mostly out of exasperation, “Michael,” he says, “Don’t be a dick.”

Michael laughs then, leaning over to press a kiss to Alex’s temple, “Darlin’,” he coos, “I’m just teasing you, helping you relax a little,” he murmurs, “Tryin’ not to blow my load while I finger you, baby. Thinkin’ about how after all this time, it finally feels like I’ve come home.”

“Jesus,” Alex groans, “I’m not going to last if you keep talking like that,” he says, with the slightest hint of desperation in his voice.

Michael hums, pressing another kiss to Alex’s temple, “Think you can handle another?”

“Could probably take you now,” Alex murmurs, shifting under Michael again, a little in impatience, a little to get friction against his dick, “Didn’t want to come across as too easy or too much so soon, but—”

Michael shushes him again, “I’ve always liked how easy you get for me,” he whispers into Alex’s ear, “How much you wanted to be with me back then. Always eager to get your hands on me, always wanting mine on you…” he smiles when he feels Alex shiver, “It’s okay to want things, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get them.”

Alex makes a punched out sort of noise, “I want to feel you,” he admits quietly, shifting under Michael again, “Next time, we can go slower, you can draw it out for hours if you want, I just…”

“I’m going to hold you to that offer for next time,” Michael murmurs with a smile, “I’d love to get you all desperate and eager for me, keep you like this for however long I want,” he presses a kiss to Alex’s temple, then cheek, then jaw, “But this time, we’ve both wanted this for so long, I’d be a fool to draw it out for much longer.”

Alex makes some sort of noise in agreement and within the next few minutes, Michael is carefully sliding his fingers out of Alex, pressing a lingering kiss to the center of his back before the weight disappears—

Before he can think too much, before his lust addled mind can protest, Michael’s back, and suddenly, Alex’s need to see Michael kicks his hard in the ribs, “Michael, Michael,” he says, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears, “Michael, I want to see you, please.”

Michael’s weight disappears for a moment, and then his hands, warm and only the slightest bit sticky from lube are on his sides, helping him roll over until he’s spread out almost in the center of the bed, staring up at Michael with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes.

“There you are,” Michael says with a warm smile, settling between Alex’s spread legs, his palms resting against Alex’s inner thighs now, pushing outward just enough for Alex to feel the stretch of it, “Like this?”

Alex nods, pushing himself up with one hand so he can curl his other arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him down until their chests are pressed together, tilting his head up so he can meet Michael’s lips in a kiss—he throws every single feeling he can’t put into words into that kiss, curling his fingers into the back of Michael’s hair, tugging him closer.

Michael goes easily, one hand gently cupping Alex’s jaw to kiss him back just as sweetly.

“I love you,” Alex whispers when they part, breathing heavily, lips parted and red, tempting and Michael kisses him again, harder this time, a little more desperate.

Michael pulls away moments later, resting their foreheads together, “I love you too,” he whispers into the space between their lips.

Alex smiles up at him, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright and happy and Michael makes a soft noise, “Jesus, Manes, you’re going to kill me.”

“Only in good ways, I hope,” Alex says, running his fingers through Michael’s hair, “Now,” he murmurs, nudging Michael’s side with his knee, “I believe we were in the middle of something?”

Michael huffs softly, fondly, shaking his head at Alex before leaning down for another quick kiss, “You’ve got me all distracted again,” he mumbles, leaning back as Alex drops back down onto the bed, laughing softly to himself and looking so happy that Michael almost wishes he could take a picture of this moment and keep it somewhere he can look at it whenever he feels the self-doubt sink in.

“Let me distract you in other ways, then,” Alex says with a grin, finding the lube, half wedged under his thigh now, “I think you know what to do from here, right?” he asks, tilting his head in question.

Michael shakes his head, laughs and takes the lube from Alex, shifting closer as he squeezes some lube into his palm, “You’re the one who kept distracting me,” he says, hissing softly as he takes himself in hand.

Alex bites his lower lip as he watches Michael touch himself, “Uh huh, just giving you a chance to get yourself under control so it’s not over in two minutes,” he teases, raising an eyebrow at Michael when he looks up, “Now come on,” he says, somewhat impatiently. “I need you, Michael.”

Michael huffs softly, uses the hand already around his dick to steady it as he pulls Alex’s hips further into his lap, pressing the head teasingly against where Alex wants him the most—he waits, listens to the hitch in Alex’s breath before he pushes inside, slow.

It’s incredible, like coming home all over again and something that now Michael’s sure he could never live without.

Alex’s hands grab for Michael’s biceps, head pushing back against the bed as he moans, half Michael’s name, half gibberish, curling one leg around Michael’s lower back, trying to pull him closer.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispers, breathless, leaning close to press kisses along the curve of Alex’s jaw, “I’ve got you baby,” he repeats, feeling one of Alex’s hands come up to cup the back of his neck, holding him close, “Fuck, you feel amazing, so good for me, Alex.”

Alex makes a soft noise, shifting his hips further into Michael’s lap, “I missed this,” he admits with a sigh, sliding his palm up Michael’s arm, across his shoulder, “Missed us being together like this, feeling you like this.” He tilts his head, catching Michael’s lips in a sweet kiss. “You can move,” he murmurs into it. “I’m ready.”

The first several thrusts are slow, a little shaky, as if Michael can’t seem to believe he’s actually allowed to have this again, that this isn’t a dream, that Alex is here and real under him, whispering soft words of pleasure against his mouth.

Michael rests his forehead against Alex’s shoulder and Alex’s arms come around him, holding onto him as each near breathless affirmation grows in volume, Alex’s hands petting along his upper back, nails scratching against skin so gentle that Michael almost wants to cry—

“Faster,” Alex murmurs into Michael’s ear, palms spreading out against Michael’s skin as he digs his heel into Michael’s lower back, “Wanna feel it, Michael,” he whispers, “Wanna feel you all day, wanna remember this when I’m alone,” he drags his nails lightly up the center of Michael’s back, feeling him shudder under his touch, feels his hips quicken, feels the way Michael grabs him with both hands, hitching him higher into his lap, “That’s it—”

Michael makes a noise, something low and guttural as he pulls back from Alex’s shoulder, his lips finding Alex’s in a desperate kiss; deepening it almost immediately in a way that has Alex groaning into it, digging his nails harshly into Michael’s back.

“Gonna make you come first,” Michael mumbles as he pulls away, “Touch yourself for me, show me how good I’m making you feel, baby.” He brushes his nose gently against Alex’s before he’s glancing between them, watching Alex wrap a hand around himself, trying desperately to keep up with the quick pace Michael’s set.

It doesn’t take long after that, never takes long when they really get into it, Alex realizes somewhere distantly, they’d always been compatible sexually, everything about it explosive and mind blowing no matter the situation—but now, with Michael pressing kiss after kiss to every inch of exposed skin he can reach, with Michael whispering soft words against his shoulder, his chest, fucking into him just right, Alex can’t help himself—he gasps Michael’s name, long and low as he arches, feels Michael’s hand cover his as he comes, and together they stroke him through it until he’s sensitive and gasping, nudging their hands away with a shudder of almost too much.

Alex pulls him into another kiss, mostly gasping against Michael’s mouth, quietly urging Michael to keep moving, to keep going; half words of love and praise fall from his lips as Michael breaks away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Alex’s shoulder again, holding his hips tight enough to leave behind bruises and—fuck what a thought that is, and if Alex could get hard again, he probably would, at the thought of Michael marking him in a way that no one could see but the both of them would know.

“Come, Michael,” Alex whispers, tangling his fingers in Michael’s hair, giving it a light tug, turning his head to press a wet kiss to his temple, “Come for me, baby, let me feel you,” he murmurs, wrapping his free arm around Michael’s shoulders, holding onto him tight even as the shocks of overstimulation become just on the side of too much—he gasps when Michael’s teeth close over his skin, right on the curve of his shoulder and with one more good tug of his hair, Michael’s swearing softly into his skin, hips moving in quick, short thrusts as if he can’t help it.

Alex feels the warmth, the way Michael’s thrusts taper off until he’s pressed as close to Alex as he can, buried deep inside him, gasping wetly against his shoulder as he comes down from his high, Alex’s hands gentle now, one petting over his sweaty back, the other gently scratching Michael’s scalp.

“Fuck,” Michael eventually mutters, pulling back so he can look down at Alex, “We’ve still got it, huh?” he asks, face adorably flushed, looking completely fucked out as Alex feels and Alex laughs, gently pulling Michael down into another kiss.

Michael goes to pull back, to separate them, to clean up, but Alex just makes an impatient noise against his mouth, tugging him deeper into the kiss, into his embrace, until Michael’s weight is resting fully on Alex, pressing him down into the bed.

When they finally do separate, Alex laughs a little, brushing Michael’s hair back from his face, “I know we should clean up, maybe get breakfast, but I kind of want you right here for a little bit longer.” He admits softly, framing Michael’s face with his hands. “We have a lot to do still and I’m not ready for this to end just yet.”

“The afterglow?” Michael asks, leaning into Alex’s touch, eyes fluttering closed, smiling when Alex hums in reply. “I think we can stay like this a little bit longer, don’t think the world’s gonna end just yet.

Alex glances over at the window, where the curtain’s parted just enough to let in the early morning light—and Michael huffs a little, waves his hand as the curtains close on their own, the room suddenly a little darker than before.

“Michael,” Alex says, snatching his phone out of the air from where it’s floating just beside them, “What—”

“Set an alarm, give us an hour, and then, we’ll get ready and go save the world,” Michael says, “I think we can afford that, don’t you?”

Alex looks between his phone, at the time across the screen—it’s not even nine yet, and then he looks down at Michael who’s staring up at him with such a look of love that Alex’s heart seizes in his chest, “Okay,” he finally says, “Okay, yeah,” he blindly fumbles his way through setting an alarm, tossing his phone down onto the bed when he’s done, “An hour. Breakfast then? We can go to the Crashdown, together,” he says, extra emphasis on the word together.

Michael’s smile is bright, and he leans down, presses a kiss to Alex’s mouth, “I knew I could convince you,” he says, shifting enough to rest his head on Alex’s chest, “An hour for us and then we’ll face the world together.”

#malex #rnm #my writing #i find that posting this on tumblr vs ao3 just makes me feel better #bc i dont feel like i should write for this fandom??? IDK #i might crosspost to ao3 eventually bc i do like this fic

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princecharmingmendes · 3 years

Text

Birthday Girl | Raul Mendes

Where Raul makes sure his girl will have the best birthday ever despite anything else

Hello everyone, pausing a bit on the Heart by Heart series (I'll be back to it Thursday as usual) to celebrate the beautiful and amazing @sinceweremutual birthday! This a small blurb/oneshot I started writing as soon as I found out her birthday was today, so I hope this was worth it. Happy Reading!

And honey, happy birthday! Hope you like it!

-*-

*Word Count: 3.5K+

*Warnings: stablished relationship, minor cursing and overly sweet Raul.

*Posted: August 15th, 2021.

-*-

Y/N loved her precious hours of sleep.

Loved the sensation of waking up and knowing she had some time to go back to bed and cuddle back into her pillows (or boyfriend if he haven’t left already). She liked sleeping in just a bit more on the weekends and taking naps after a long hard day. Last night was not an exception. Her day sucked and Raul was stuck at the hospital for a night shift, only being able to make it back home on the early hours of the morning.

They weren’t necessarily living together yet, but they’ve been together for almost two years, having known each other for a lot more than that and nowadays the pretty much were always together, but both had their own apartment, even though they’re barely separated. So she came back to his apartment since he promised he’d come as soon as he was allowed to join her in her sleep.

Her day sucked. Her boss was unnecessarily mean towards her for a mistake she did not commit and wasn’t her responsibility to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Then she had to spend the whole day fixing the other team’s mistake and it took over three hours and a bunch of paperwork, but at the end of the day she was able to figure it out. Only to receive a half assed apology, her boss blaming it on his wife’s strange behavior or whatever lame excuse he could find to put the blame on someone else.

So by the time she reached his apartment she felt dead at her feet, only having enough energy left to shower and pull on one of Raul’s hoodie over her head, burying her nose on his faint scent in the fabric, before falling onto her back in his bed and allowing herself to relax. What was supposed to be a five minute nap, ended up being the whole night, even skipping dinner in favor of resting in peace, nuzzling further into her boyfriend’s bedding.

Raul got home around 2 a.m. and found his girl asleep in his bed, holding his pillow tight to her chest and he could feel his heart swelling in his chest at the sight. He carefully dropped his things in the closet before coming out to check if she was still asleep and unperturbed with him roaming around, and his suspicious were confirmed by her steady breathing and peaceful demeanor. He decided it was best to take a quick shower before diving under the covers with Y/N and pulling her into his chest.

He was at the hospital for goodness sake.

As soon as he was out of the bathroom and back into his dark room, with only a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips, he plugged his phone, checking his alarms and carefully climbing onto the bed. But as soon as the mattress dipped under his weight, he noticed Y/N shifting on her side, and he stilled his movements to check if he had woken her up or was just a dream.

Y/N turned her face to his side completely, eyes still hazy and sleep clouding her senses “Baby?”

“Hi, sweetheart, it’s just me” he mumbled hovering over her with his hands planted on each side of her head to hold himself up, before he leaned down to press featherlight kissed all over her face.

“Kissy?” her voice small and soaked in sleep as she puckered her lips at him.

Raul let out a low and warm chuckle, making an involuntary smile appear in her lips as she looked up at him, feeling all fuzzy inside with the sound of his voice and the way he looked at her, before leaning down and placing a slow peck on her pout “you know you can get all the kisses in the world, my love, you don’t even have to ask” he then connected their lips again in a longer yet sweet kiss as she sighed into his mouth happily.

“Missed you” she said as soon as he pulled away, only to place his pillow back in its place so he could lay down properly, then pulling her pliant body to accommodate on top of his.

He hummed placing a kiss to her forehead as she curled her body around his, throwing a leg over his to tangle them “Missed you too, but I’m here now and you should rest, your four minutes voice message was enough for me to know you need to relax”

Y/N just nodded nuzzling her face in his neck sighing contently as he rubbed circles on her back, slowly drifting off himself as well “good night, darling, sweet dreams” he whispered into her hair but she was already asleep, but that didn’t stop her from tightening her embrace on him.

-*-

She had a peaceful night of sleep until being coaxed awake with a bunch of tiny soft kisses being placed all over her face, making her scrunch her nose before slowly blinking her eyes open. She was met with her gorgeous boyfriend hovering over her with his megawatt smile he reserved only for her shining bright. Y/N giggled softly tucking her head on the bicep on her left that was holding his weight above her. Raul couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“Good morning, birthday girl” he murmured a bit raspy as he dragged his lips across her cheek until she looked up at him with a smile on her face.

“Hm good morning” she mumbled sleepily letting her eyes fall closed.

“Oh no, don’t sleep on me” he whined and she giggled.

“I’m not sleeping, silly, just resting a bit”

Raul let out a low chuckle before kissing the tip of her nose “happy birthday, my love”

“Happy birthday indeed” she mumbled before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to lay on top of her.

But before he could smash her into the mattress he was quick to roll them both over “no, no sleeping again” he laughed sitting them both up with Y/N on his lap.

“Why not?” she was physically unable to stop herself from pouting.

He only smiled sympathetically at her “you made me promise you I wouldn’t let you skip work today, and that was only two days ago and I don’t break the promises I make to you”

Y/N groaned rolling her eyes “stupid past me who thought working was worth skipping a day with you when I’ll have a crowded night and won’t even properly be able to enjoy my time with you”

“Having second thoughts on your night out, sweetheart?” he asked teasingly and she nodded “well, good thing Angela texted me to tell me she’s not making it tonight so she’ll reschedule with you later”

“Really??” she asked with a smile “I know I shouldn’t sound too excited about this, but this week was so long and I needed some chill time, you and a movie would be wonderful”

He only giggled and leaned his forehead against hers “That can be arranged, darling”

“Good” she hummed gently with a smile.

“Kissy?” Raul begged with a pout but a slightly teasing tilt in his voice.

It took her a while to realize he was mocking her from last night and she felt her face burning up “oh fuck you” she said trying to leave abruptly, but his arm around her kept her pinned in his lap as he laughed.

“No, no, drop it, it was just a joke, you were just so cute last night, could never say no to you” he mumbled kissing her jaw “come in, don’t be mad at me, I’ll do that thing you like for dinner, yeah?”

“This doesn’t sound like a food offer” she said with knowing look in her eyes and he had a smirk on his lips before she had even finished her sentence, making a laugh bubble up her throat “you’re the actual worst!”

Raul threw his head back in laughter, placing a kiss on her cheeks “come on, it was just a joke, you know I’ll give you anything you’d want, doll” and his eyes were so serious and so tender she almost melted into his chest.

“Oh God, it’s barely seven in the morning, I’m barely functioning and awake, and you’re already flirting, how do you manage that?” she asked incredulously, looking at him and he just laughed shaking his head.

“Well, I can’t help it when you look like that” he mumbled leaning in closer, rubbing their noses together.

“Like what?”

“Like the love of my life” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the planet.

And he did it so easily, not even flinching at that, leaving her speechless.

Their relationship started with teasing and mindless flirting, becoming close friends pretty quickly. He flirted with everyone without even realizing, it was just natural, and she was just good with quick funny and slightly flirty remarks they just clicked. Their friendship blurred into a serious romantic relationship so easily, everyone surrounding them rooting hot it to happen. So this wasn’t necessarily a weird situation, they’ve been like this for years, but sometimes he’d utter the sweetest confessions between the little teasings and jokes with such rawness and adoration in his eyes that she’d end up frozen in place.

He did it because it would turn things a little easier to digest and he felt better that way, wouldn’t feel so intimidated since, and Y/N didn’t mind. She knew he could be honest and serious whenever he needed, but these tiny declarations that could be fitted into a casual conversation about their grocery list always caught her off guard. And it was so genuine and spontaneous, she couldn’t help but fall even harder for him.

So she just stared at him in awe for a couple of seconds before realizing she hadn’t said anything in return, before she babbled up a “I love you too”

Raul couldn’t contain the fond smile gracing his lips before he leaned in and pressed a long yet sweet peck at her lips “wait here only a sec, yeah?”

“What? Baby, you said no surprises!” she whined but got out of his lap anyway and he only smiled at her.

“It’s not a huge surprise or anything, I promise” he said before leaving her laying in his bed.

“Of course that is the only promise he’s able to break” Y/N grumbled under her breath grumpily.

Then she heard Raul chuckle as he approached the room again “I can hear you, you know?” and she only rolled her eyes from the bed and gasping as soon as she met him by the door.

He was holding a huge breakfast tray that had absolutely all of her favorite breakfast food and a beautiful flower arrange holding her favorite ones. The smile on her face was enough to make him aware that waking up after only 4 hours of sleep were worth it, and he’d do it all over again just to see her smile like that again.

“You didn’t have to” was all she could mutter.

Raul smiled and nodded “I know, I just wanted to make your day a bit better before work, and we can celebrate later”

“Thank you” she said in a hushed tone as he placed the tray on the nightstand, and as soon as it was out of danger of suffering a strike she lunged forward wrapping him in a hug as she knocked them both on the bed again “thank you so much”

Raul laughed wrapping his arms around her waist tighter “you’re so very welcome” he said as he placed a kiss to her hair.

“I love you so much” she mumbled squeezing him just a bit tighter.

“I know, love” he said with a hand tilting her chin up look at him “but I love you so much more”

“Ew” she teased and he laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and shaking his head.

He snorted making her laugh “Cruel beautiful thing”

Y/N leaned down to press a kiss to his lips “good thing you love me more than” mumbling before sitting back up to eat her breakfast.

And that was how she got ready for work, with one of the best breakfasts she’s ever had in her life, and sure the food as good, but that wasn’t all of it. She was still at home, in bed and content. Then after eating through light banter and little silly jokes, Raul followed her around his room and watched her get ready for work. She had enough stuff in his house she could easily live in there for a while, since it’s where they spent most of their time. So as soon as she was ready, with her boyfriend still hot in her tracks with every move she made, trailing behind her.

“Okay” she said as she grabbed her purse “this is your day off and I know you’re up super early for this and came home super late, so please sleep”

“Why? You plan on keeping me up all night?” he teased with his signature smirk and Y/N shook her head laughing.

She gently cupped his cheeks in both of her hands “you need to sleep, doctor’s orders, honey”

“I'm the doctor here” he protested and she only shook her head in response.

“Well, I’m in control here, mister, so to bed you go”

“Fine, but I’ll pick you up, alright?” he said pressing a kiss to her forehead and she nodded “Love you”

“Love you too”

-*-

Six p.m. sharp she heard her phone buzzing softly, indicating her overly excited boyfriend was already downstairs waiting for her. So Y/N started grabbing her things, letting him know she’d be there soon, and turning off her computer for the weekend. Before she could even get up from her chair, she saw her coworker and friend, Claire running towards her with a big smile on her face.

“Your prince charming is here!” she beamed and Y/N cringed at how loud she exclaimed.

“Keep it down, people are still working” she hissed at her friend but she only rolled her eyes at her antics in response.

“Come on, don’t leave him waiting!”

She shook her head laughing softly “okay, okay, I’m leaving”

“Happy birthday, girl, enjoy your six feet boyfriend”

Y/N looked at her funny “I will, thank you? What did he say to you?”

“Just go! And text me later!” she said as she pushed Y/N into the elevator, pressing the buttons and leaving her alone.

She laughed to herself, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she looked down at her phone, her foot tapping against the marble floor as she waited for the doors to open, and as they did, all the stress rolled off of her. Raul was standing just in front of her building wearing a beautiful button up, with a chain necklace hanging from his neck and peaking through the first opened buttons. His black shades covering his beautiful eyes and showing the reason behind his reputation of being a bad boy, when in reality he was just a softie.

But in his hands, he had another bouquet of flowers and as soon as he set his eyes on her, his face brightened up with a big smile. He was just leaning on his jeep and as she got closer he straightened his posture and took the final steps to meet her in between. He pressed a quick peck to her lips and extended the flowers to her, keeping their affection to minimum since neither of them were a fan of PDA.

“Hi there, gorgeous” she said trying to mimic his flirty tone and he only chuckled.

Raul opened the door for her “Hello, my love, ready for our birthday celebration?”

She kissed his cheek as she climbed in, bouquet on her lap as she buckled up “Is there food involved?”

“Of course, homemade and everything” he said closing the door before climbing on the drivers seat.

“Are you for real?” she asked as she turned to face him.

He only smiled starting the car, backing up and starting to drive them both to his place “Of course, could never lie to you, and it’s your favorite, even asked you grandmother for the recipe”

“Oh shit!” she squealed from her seat and he smiled at her nodding “you have to be kidding me”

“You can call her” Raul said teasingly “Or you could trust your very honest and loving boyfriend, both pretty simple options”

Y/N laughed shaking her head “you’re absolutely ridiculous”

“But you love me” he quickly added and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing harder.

“Of course I do, silly, it’s impossible not to when you’re literally being the best human being I’ve ever met and always making sure I’m happy” she said looking at the flowers on her lap before looking up at Raul.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry” he teased and she shook her head with a giggle “I just want to make you happy, promised it to your mom and myself”

“And you’re acing this” she said and he grabbed her hand, planting a kiss on the back of it before parking on the garage of his building.

“Baby, before we go back home, could you please grab me my wallet, I think it's one the glove compartment” he mumbled grabbing his phone probably to reply to someone’s text.

And she did, but she was not expecting what she saw.

Inside the glove compartment there were a bunch of polaroids of them and rose petals scattered around, and right on the back of it there was a little key hanging under the phrase ‘move in with me, please?’ written in his calligraphy. She was still processing the whole thing when he cleaned his throat slightly nervous, making her look up at him with wide eyes and still not sure what to say.

“I know this is your birthday, and this is technically a gift for me, but I really couldn’t wait another day” he said softly, seemingly shyer than his usual confident self, making her heart swell twice its size in her chest.

“Raul, I- yeah, yes, of course I’ll move in with you!” she practically jump on him as much as she could due to the fact that they’re still in his car and space was limited.

Y/N was quick to capture his lips in a searing kiss and she felt him relax under her touch, tucking her bottom lip between his two, a hand cupping her face as the other held her waist to give her some sort of support on the pose she had. She backed way to recover a bit of breath she didn’t think she would need when she lunged forward to her boyfriend, so instead the pecked his lips only about a million times, making him laugh and press one long kiss to her lips then leaning away completely.

“Glad you agreed to it, cause I already told your parents” he said a bit nervous about it, a sly smile gracing his features to match his rosy cheeks.

“Of course you did” she said with a smile “what about yours? Are they okay with it?”

“Are you kidding me?? Mom wanted you to move in like three years ago” he said as he grabbed the key and the photos from the glove compartment “sorry, sweetheart, this is actually symbolic since you already have a key and this is actually mine”

“Figured” she laughed as she grabbed her stuff “And what do you mean three years ago? We weren’t even officially together back then”

Raul shrugged “guess that’s a mom thing, she said something about having never seen me this happy before and she was sure we were in love with each other, turns out she was right, I already loved you back then and didn’t want to admit it, and yeah, you make me the happiest man alive, sweetheart”

“You're absolutely ridiculous but I still love you” Y/N admitted and he smiled at her.

“I know” he opened his door “your real present, meal and a few other stuff are waiting for you upstairs”

“Oh my God, you really went all in” she giggled getting out of the car, and as soon as she was out, he was quick to pick her up bridal style making her squeak “what the hell are you doing?”

He looked down at her, taking a while to cal the elevator “Isn’t this how we’re supposed to do it?”

“Baby, I’m sure it’s only the door, not all the floors and we’re not married” she said with a giggled

“Well, miss skepticism, just let me be a goofball once in a while” he said with a mocking tone.

“Once in a while?” she asked incredulously.

He had a pout on his lips when he spoke up again “Come on, no teasing when I’m trying to be a hopeless romantic, please let me do this and treat you right” he said with a smile

“Alright, whatever you want” she admitted in defeat as she giggled, wrapping her arms around her neck “just don’t drop me, please”

“Would never, sweetheart”

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes writing #the mendes triplets #raul mendes #raul mendes writing #raul mendes au #the mendes triplets au #mendes triplets #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you #raul mendes x reader #writing

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literaila · 4 years

Text

dwindling heartbeats

spencer x reader

request: hi!! could you write an angsty spencer x reader fic where reader and spencer are dating but reader ends up the main suspect in a case? i had a dream about it and i would love you to write it haha. you can come up with the ending (like wether reader was the unsub or not). thank you and i love your writing so so much and i think you could write it really well!!

warnings: criminal mind things, mentions of pain in all forms, anxiety, fear, anticipation?

She liked the way heartbeats sounded.

She liked to listen to them, beating. Quietly but forcefully.

She liked to listen to his heart as he slept. She liked to lay her chest on his head, to breathe in and out with him. She liked it when she could hear his heart flutter, over and over.

She liked to stay awake while he slept. She liked to watch his eyes dance with dreams, liked to watch his sweet smiles dead into the night. She liked to stay awake far later than he could, just so that she could catch these moments. These precious little moments she couldn't seem to get enough of.

She liked to listen to his heart. She liked to listen while her cheek was on his chest, while he held her close to him even in his sleep. She liked to listen to the cautious beating, the strength of his heart. She liked to listen to his heart dwindle off as she slowly fell asleep. She liked to listen to-

She always fell asleep eventually. Always closed her eyes just in time to hear his heart pound once more. She always stayed awake for that moment.

Spencer didn't know.

Of course, he was sleeping, there was no way he could know. And the nights when she stayed up until he woke, until it was morning and the sun was shining through his blinds, and the bed was so warm. Those mornings when she forgot to fall asleep at all. He still didn't know. She always pretended to be half asleep, pretended as she had just woken up. And he had never suspected a thing.

She liked to stay up late. To listen to the world breathe when everyone else fell asleep. She liked the quiet, the mystery that came with night. She liked how dark it was, how silent everyone could be, how peaceful the wind was when it knew not to wake any of the humans up. She liked to stay up late.

And listen to Spencer's heart. To watch his eyelashes flutter against his cheek. And watch him smile silently.

She liked the way hearts beat.

Spencer didn't expect to wake up alone.

He thought of the night before. Thought of all the words and all the laughs the two of them had shared. He thought about the wine they drank, the food they ate.

She was here with him, just last night.

So he hadn't expected to wake up alone.

Usually, when she stayed the night, she would promise that she’d be there in the morning. Usually, Spencer woke up to soft kisses against his cheek, fake biting on his neck. Usually, Spencer woke up with her still in his arms, exactly as she had been the night before.

But this morning, his bed was cold, he woke up to his alarm, and his girlfriend was nowhere to be found.

It was strangely dark in his room. Not sunny like most mornings. It was strange.

Spencer got out of bed within ten minutes, he figured that Y/N had needed to go do something, that she would text him later and apologize for leaving so early.

He wondered how he hadn't noticed her getting out of bed. He was usually a light sleeper.

He got dressed, already running late for work. He was lucky no one had called him in yet, lucky that the serial killers seemed to be taking a break this morning.

But right as he had that thought, his phone rang.

The cuffs were digging into her wrists. Bruises forming while the clock ticked.

At first, she had struggled, screamed at them to let her go, that she hadn't done anything.

But after ten minutes of that, she’d given up. Her body and her mind both done with trying to fight back. Done with trying to fight at all.

They were holding her in a room, one similar to the interrogation rooms she’d seen on TV so many times. In the shows where the criminal always got caught. It was cold, her chair was uncomfortable, and these handcuffs were digging into her wrists.

The cop had left five minutes ago, promising her that they would carry on soon enough.

If she was being honest, she barely had any idea what was going on.

All she knew was that she had planned to go get breakfast for her and Spencer. She got up early, after only a couple of hours asleep, and she’d left his apartment, making sure that she didn't lock it so that she could come back soon. So that he wouldn't have the chance to wake up before she got back. She’d been planning to surprise him.

But when she was walking on the street, a man had approached her, his badge out, his face stern. It was then and there that she had been arrested. Put into handcuffs, sat in the back of a police car while they drove her to the station.

She was so high on adrenaline she couldn't remember if they had ever told her why she was being arrested. She couldn't remember if the man had ever said anything, if he had ever done anything but accuse her and then tie her up. She just couldn't remember.

But her palms were sweaty. She was nervous, even if she didn't think she had done anything wrong. They had brought her in for a reason, hadn't they? They had something against her, some evidence that would prove her guilty for whatever crime she had committed.

God, she wished Spencer was there. He would know what was going on. He would talk to her. He would tell her that she hadn't done anything wrong, that it was going to be okay. It was going to be just fine.

She had just gone to get them breakfast.

And now, and now she was sitting in a grey room alone, practically thousands of miles away from anyone else, from any civilization. She was cold and tired and these handcuffs were bruising and pulling on her wrists over and over.

She wanted to cry. She really wanted to go home.

Why was she so nervous?

Why was she there?

Where was Spencer?

Hotch had pulled him back. As soon as he saw her, Hotch was stepping in his way.

None of them had known. No one had told them anything about a suspect until they were already at the police station, already standing there looking at them. Looking at her. At the girl who they were all familiar with.

When Spencer had first arrived at work, all he knew was that there was a new case. He knew that there were five people dead. Five people in the past three weeks. He was told that those five people probably weren't all, that all of the evidence was pointing to a rapidly devolving unsub, one that wouldn't stop until caught. He knew that all of the bodies were found with multiple stab wounds and head force trauma.

He knew that they were supposed to find whoever was doing this, that he was supposed to help them find the unsub.

But, after a long car ride and many unanswered texts to his girlfriend, he had never expected to see her sitting in a chair so close to him. He had never expected to see her looking around mindlessly, like all of the people who sat in those kinds of rooms did. He hadn't expected to see her next in handcuffs, with wild hair, messy makeup, and tear stains running down her face.

They hadn't even known that there was a suspect yet. They had only been called in this morning.

And Hotch was holding him back.

“Reid.” He said, probably more than once, but Spencer wasn't listening. He was looking at his girlfriend.

She wasn't looking back.

“Detective, no one mentioned anything about a suspect. Why hasn't anyone told us?” Derek said, already catching on to the situation. Rossi and Morgan took steps forward, in front of Spencer so that he couldn't go any further, while Hotch kept his hand on Spencer's shoulder. Holding him back still.

Emily and JJ both seemed to get the hint, they moved on to checking over the files again.

But none of them could hide their glances over to her.

Her.

Spencer's girlfriend, the one that they had all met multiple times. The girl that had changed Spencer so deeply. The usually happy girl, smiling like there was no tomorrow. The girl who was usually right at Spencer's side. The first girl that Spencer hadn't been able to hide from any of them. She was his girlfriend.

She was sitting a room away, handcuffed to a table.

“We only just picked her up this morning, after security evidence came back from the last crime scene.” The Detective answered, no doubt suspicious of the behaviors of the team. It didn't take much brainpower to see that they weren't thinking all that rationally.

“Has anyone been in to talk with her?” Rossi asked.

“We’ve been backed up all morning and-” Hotch stopped him with the palm of his hand. Telling him with only a motion that he didn't need excuses. Spencer was on fire, furious with the detective, furious that anyone assumed that she would do anything, that his girlfriend would cause any harm.

“I can talk to her,” he said, breathing out the anger, trying to remove Hotch’s grip from his shoulder. His eyes were crazed, he ran a hand through his hair, desperate to hear her voice assure him she was okay.

“Reid.” Hotch said again, his face stern, his thoughts not wavering on this one. Spencer couldn't talk to her, it would be a violation, and a terrible idea. A bad situation for the two of them.

Rossi had moved the detective away from them, knowing that what Spencer needed was a moment of privacy, and started distracting him with questions of his own. Questions about the crime scene, about the evidence against Y/N.

Derek walked over to the two of his friends, facing toward the room with Y/N in it.

“I can do it,” he said, whispering so only the three of them could hear. “It won't be a violation of any rules, and I think she’d do well with someone she's familiar with.” He continued, his eyes now focused on Spencer, and how angry he looked at just the thought of not being able to go in and talk to her.

“Morgan..” Hotch said, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“Hotch, the kids not going to let one of the cops here talk to her, and you’re not going to let him. I can do it.” He assured, face lack of any emotion. He wanted to prove he could be rational. That he could be professional even with Spencer's girlfriend.

Hotch finally nodded, dragging Reid, who was scowling at the sight of his girlfriend still, farther away. “Spencer, maybe you should take a moment. Collect yourself. Go get some air.” he said, trying not to sound like a boss, but rather a friend. Trying to give Spencer the hint that he didn't want him watching.

Spencer didn't catch on, too distracted with Y/N.

“I’m staying here.”

Spencer was firm on that. He couldn't leave her. He didn't know why, or what she had done, but he knew that it was a misunderstanding. He knew that as soon as she was let out of that room he wanted to be there. He knew that she was going to be traumatized, that she probably already was. He couldn't leave her. He wouldn't leave her to be alone with a bunch of accusing strangers.

“Spencer-”

“I’m staying here,” he repeated, moving his eyes away from her for just a second, just so he could make his point clear to Hotch.

And after that, Hotch didn't try to make him leave.

She was almost asleep by the time the door finally opened.

The police officer from earlier had promised that they would get to her soon, that she would be let out of the cuffs as soon as she could be questioned. But it felt like hours since then, and she was sure that whoever that cop was, he was a liar.

She was beginning to get restless, bored with this situation, with not knowing what was going on. She was tired and angry, and all she really wanted to do was go home and listen to Spencer’s heart some more. That would help. She wondered if she could ask.

She shook the thought out of her head. Looked around the room again. Looked for anything to keep her awake.

She wanted to rub her eyes, wanted to get some of the sleep out of her system, wanted to be alert again so she wouldn't miss anything else. But her hand was asleep, her wrists were sore, and she still couldn't move.

She still had no idea what was going on.

She was almost asleep when the door finally opened.

When the familiar face walked into the room.

“Y/N,” Derek said, nodding at her, taking in her obvious distress.

But when she saw him, her mood visibly changed. She almost brightened, almost become someone completely different from the person she was five seconds ago. Her restlessness was gone, she was no longer tired, her eyes widening as he sat down in front of her. She was happy to see someone familiar, someone who wouldn't immediately accuse her.

“Derek,” she said, a smile now accompanying her face. Her eyes were no longer sullen, no longer looking around the room confused.

She sat up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wanting to get pleasantries out of the way before he had to question her. He hated that Spencer was behind the glass, was watching them. He hated that he had to do this to his friend's girlfriend in front of him. He hated that he knew Spencer would be listening to every word, that he would be counting the minutes down until Derek could prove that she was innocent.

“Why am I here?” She asked instead of answering his question. Ignoring it. Derek was shocked to see that she was actually being serious. Her question was warranted. She was actually confused.

“Didn't the cop that arrested you explain everything?”

Derek, and Y/N for that matter, both knew that it was protocol for police to explain why they were arresting someone. They both knew that if they had broken that rule, this situation could change significantly.

She nodded, then upon seeing his confusion, continued. “I can't remember what they said, I was scared. I don't remember anything after they handcuffed me.”

Derek was still confused. She wasn't someone who would panic in a moment of fear, she wouldn't lose her memories just because she was scared.

This entire situation was strange.

“You’re being charged with the murder of five people.”

And, then, her face changed.

Went from complete curiosity, to dispair. In a fraction of a moment.

Her eyebrows creased, her lips frowned, she was staring at the ground, her entire body tensed at Derek’s words.

And her mood was flipped again.

Tears ran down her face.

She was confused, and worried, and terrified. She had no idea how she could be in this situation? How she could be thought of as a murder? She had no idea why, no idea how, no idea what to do.

“What?” she whispered. Her voice was failing her, her chest was collapsing, her mind was running in circles.

“They have security tapes of you exiting a building, moments after Samantha Brith was killed in a pharmacy three miles from here.”

She was almost asleep by the time she heard the words.

Spencer hated watching this.

He hated that he wasn't in there with her. Hated that he never called her when he woke up, that he didn't think anything of her being gone except for that it was strange. He was angry and confused, and he didn't know when they could have gotten the video of her.

He’d watched it. Once. But multiple times in his head. He replayed it with every question that Derek asked, remembered that she was supposed to be with Spencer that night. That they were asleep when that happened.

How could she be there?

The rest of the team was busy profiling the actual murderer. They were trying to find evidence that provided a different solution other than Y/N. All of them knew that it couldn't be her, it obviously couldn't be, they just had to prove it. Because it wasn't her.

Hotch came to talk to Spencer every couple of minutes. Made sure that he was still okay.

Which he wasn't, but the thought was nice.

Hotch also asked him questions. Wondered how many serial killers devolved as fast as this one was, wondered how exhausting it would be to cause that much harm against a living person. He asked Spencer these questions, and he always got an answer, but Spencer wasn't really listening.

He was watching her. Always watching her. He watched her move her hair out of her eyes, watched her mood change with every question. He watched her hesitate with her answers, saw her confusion.

He watched her with desperation, with another feeling that he didn't know how to describe.

He wondered why she looked so scared. He supposed he could guess the answer. He supposed he would be scared too.

“Spencer,” Hotch spoke, checking on him for the seventh time. “JJ and Emily are going to go ask the bank owner some questions, to gather information about the crime scene of the third body.” He spoke as if Spencer was listening as if he cared when his girlfriend was being interrogated in front of him. “Spencer?”

“Hmm?” he said, still not really listening.

“How is she?” Hotch asked, getting his attention for the first time.

“She seems okay, she looks better than um, earlier,” Spencer said, never once looking at Hotch, keeping his eyes on her.

“Okay. She's going to be alright you know?”

Spencer nodded.

He watched her some more. Felt the desperation in his chest. Felt the fear building in his brain.

When she finally asked for Spencer, the questioning was over.

Derek had asked her so many questions, some that she didn't know how to answer.

No, she didn't remember where she was on the 15th, she didn't know what time she got in bed, she didn't know any of the victims, she didn't know she didn't know. She kept repeating it over and over. No. No. No. No.

She felt like screaming.

It seemed like she didn't know anything. Why didn't she know anything?

But, as soon as Derek nodded, told her that he had asked enough. She asked.

“Is Spencer here?”

She couldn't see him wince at his name from the other side of the wall. She didn't see him lean in a little bit closer to her.

“Yes. He's outside.” Derek said, offering her a smile. One that was small, one that didn't really do anything to ease the feeling in her stomach.

“Can I talk to him?” She asked, her eyes hopeful, her shoulders relaxing with the news that he was there. With the thought that he wasn't far away, that she wasn't alone anymore.

“I don't-” Derek cleared his throat “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

She wanted to cry. Wanted to scream at this friend of hers. Wanted to break through these handcuffs and go to see him. She just wanted to.

She nodded hesitantly. “O-okay. But um, if I can, I’d like to.” She swallowed her scream, forced her tears down her throat, and tried not to pull on the cuffs. Her wrists hurt too much.

Derek nodded, felt ashamed to not have an answer for her. Felt terrible that two of his friends both wanted the same thing so desperately and he couldn't give it to either of them.

When he exited the room, leaving her alone once again, Hotch and Spencer were talking in front of the door. Arguing.

“She asked!”

“Reid you know I can't let you-”

“Hotch she's probably terrified! She needs someone to talk to her, we don't even know what happened yet!”

“Spencer-”

“Please!”

Derek sighed, rubbing his eyes as he walked over to the two of them. Spencer was getting irritated, no longer just at the police, but now at Hotch.

"Hotch," Derek said, interrupting their conversation before it could go any further.

"How is she?" Hotch asked, Spencer, staring at him in disbelief.

"How is she Hotch?! She's pretty fucking terrible I'd assume." He scoffed, turning away from the other two men to watch his girlfriend wipe tears from her eyes.

His beautiful girlfriend. Alone. A murderer.

He almost laughed at the thought.

"Spencer," Hotch said, using a voice similar to one he used with Jack. Spencer was testing his limits, being disrespectful, not following rules. Not acting like himself.

"She's relieved that we're here," Derek answered, watching Spencer stare at her, giving Hotch a fearful look.

Spencer muttered something that neither of them could hear.

"Does she have solid alibis?"

"She doesn't remember much from those nights. Everything is blurred Hotch. I don't know." Derek sighed again, exhausted.

Hotch lowered his voice to ask his next question. "Do you think it's her?"

But even when he whispered, Spencer could hear him.

And the sudden fury he felt in his chest was expected.

"Of course it's not her! She would never do that!" He had never expected Hotch to be doubtful. He felt betrayed at the inference that he would ever love someone who could murder all those people. He had expected his friends, his family, to have his back. To have her back.

"I'm talking to her." Spencer said, a final statement to the two men. He was finally finished listening to everyone else talk, finally finished listening to anything.

"Spencer-" he heard from behind him as he opened the door.

As he walked into the room.

To her.

"Spencer,"

The relief was palpable in her voice. Her body fell apart immediately at the feel of Spencer's hand against hers. It was such a feeling, so different than before. It was like she could finally breathe, she finally knew how to speak.

Now that he was here.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, wrapping her hand in both of his, hating how cold she felt.

She wished she could move closer to him, wished she wasn't chained down. Wished they were still in bed. Wished he would hold her again.

"I'm fine," she whispered back, her eyes concerned. More worried about him than she was about herself.

"You're so cold," Spencer responded, ignoring her lies, ignoring how scared she still looked. He was so glad to be next to her. To be talking to her. "Are your wrists okay?" he asked once he looked down, seeing the red marks around the wrist that was chained to the table.

"I'm fine Spence." She answered, trying to smile at him.

They both sat there for a moment, both remembering the pleasant night they'd had together last night, both thinking about moments that weren't like this one. Moments that weren't quite so scary.

And finally, when they had both breathed in all the time together they could spare, when they had finally used up all the oxygen in the room, Spencer spoke up.

His words brought miles between them.

"You didn't do it?" he said it as if the words hurt him. Like those words would hurt him more than they would hurt her.

She didn't see how that could be possible.

"I don't-" she started, her voice shaking as she felt the feeling in her stomach again. The nauseous feeling. The terrifying one.

"You- you didn't do it? R-right?" Spencer asked again, looking up at her.

And she saw it in his eyes. She saw it. And she knew the answer.

"Right." She breathed out, squeezing his hand.

And Spencer nodded, nodded like the words had solved everything like the words had removed this handcuff from her wrist like he could walk her home now. Like everything was fine.

"Okay," he said, giving her one of his small smiles. "Okay." He said, again, squeezing back.

Okay.

She didn't do it.

"I'm going to get you out of here."

"Spencer-"

"I'm going to get you out of here. Okay?"

She nodded. Spencer took a breath in.

Okay.

She remembered that night.

She remembered the cold wind against her cheek.

She remembered the hand around her waist.

She remembered that feeling.

She'd basked in it.

She'd lived completely numb from that feeling.

And then she'd found it.

She felt the kissssssss against her cheek.

So soft.

"Reid."

Spencer figured that Hotch was going to yell at him, maybe suspend him in the worst-case scenario. He knew that what he did was disrespectful, but he didn't regret it.

How could he when he got to talk to her? How could he regret getting to hold her hand? Getting to hear her voice when she was with him again? Getting to be next to her?

He couldn't. He just couldn't regret it, even if he knew it was wrong.

But when Spencer went to Hotch, there was no reprimanding. Hotch didn't even look mad. Just concerned. His eyes were hesitant, and when he put a hand on Spencer's shoulder, there was nothing but fear in his eyes.

fear.

Why fear?

"What?" Spencer asked, confused. Why wasn't he yelling at him?

"Reid."

"What Hotch?" Spencer asked again, more insistent, starting to get worried. He felt that feeling in his stomach.

"We found something."

Spencer listened carefully.

She remembered the cold air against her skin.

She remembered smiling.

She remembered.

"Before we got here, Y/N was asked for DNA. At one of the first crime scenes, there was DNA left behind, and the lead detective figured that if her DNA was a match, he would have all the evidence he needed."

Spencer nodded. Still confused.

He didn't see the silent shame Hotch felt.

She liked heartbeats. She liked the in and out, she liked the wind, she liked lots of things.

She liked it when she was alone, when she was with him.

She liked she liked she lied. She liked.

She liked heartbeats.

"While you were in there.."

Everyone slowly came over to the pair.

All of Spencer's friends, going over to him, all of them with the same look on their faces. All of them worried. All of them concerned.

Spencer looked back at Y/N. She looked upset.

He wondered when he could get her out.

He looked back at Hotch.

She listened to him every night. But sometimes, she got bored. She got restless. She needed to do something.

She was very good at sneaking out of bed without a notice, without waking Spencer up.

It was fortunate.

She left so many times. So many nights she snuck out.

So many times.

She always made it back for sunrise.

"Spencer, Y/N's DNA..."

Spencer nodded for him to continue. He needed Hotch to get to the point so that they could get her out, so that he could hurry up and get her away from here.

He wanted to go home with her, wanted to see her smile her real smile again. He wanted this to all go away, wanted this fear in his mind to leave.

Get to the point.

"What Hotch?"

She liked it. She hated it.

She liked the quiet of night. She liked how mysssssterious it was.

She liked it, oh god oh god.

She wasn't going to throw up.

Not again.

Not this time.

"It was a match."

Everything.

It had to be.

It had to stop.

Okay?

She liked the way heartbeatss sounded.

She liked to listen to them, beating. Quietly but forcefully.

She liked to listen to his heart as he slept. She liked to lay her chest on his head, to breathe in and out with him. She liked it when she could hear his heart flutter, over and over.

She liked to listen as they faded away.

She was so tempting.

She was a beacon in every room. Everywhere she went. She was a temptation far too charming to resist.

Every night, she stared, watched someone's eyes. And she tempted them so far.

She charmed them without a blink. Without a breath.

She liked it.

She didn't have to do anything before they were lured into her hands, pulled so far in by her wit, by her smile, by her eyes which were oh so hard to resist.

She was irresistible.

And a temptation none of them could ignore. Every one of them.

Every. Single. Time.

She was perfect, far toooo perfect for them far too much far too many far too fun.

She didn't have to think about it every night she snuck away. She didn't have to blink, she didn't have to breathe, she just had to stand there. Just had to feel the cold wind on her chest, on her cheek. She just had to listen.

As the heartbeats dwindled away.

As they faded into the distance.

She was far too perfect to resist. Far too perfect. She was so smart, so charming, so much all at once. And she always knew how to catch them. She knew how to lead, lead them to the end of the earth. She knew she knew how to push them off when they weren't looking. Push them so far, too farrrrr off the edge.

She knew how to kiss them so soft, so quiet as they were done, she knew what she was doing.

She remembered everything. Every night.

She snuck back in bed, she listened to his heart. She liked the way it dwindled off as she fell asleep, the way it faded.

She liked it.

Heartbeats. Disappearing.

my masterlist here.

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seasonschange-butpeopledont · 4 years

Text

The Best Man

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, a few curse words

Word Count: 2,560

Author’s Note: A fun part about getting older is that all of my friends are married or engaged now, and sometimes weddings bring up some insecurities. A more than a bit of venting going on here. This is my first time writing for the love of my life Marcus Pike and I’m very nervous/excited.

Summary: When your best friend asks you to be the maid of honor at her wedding, you’re convinced that you’ll never find your own happy ending- until you meet a certain groomsman.

Taglist Form - Masterlist

You weren’t proud of the feelings of dread that washed over you as you sat in the parking lot of the wedding venue. You’d been sitting in your car for just a little longer than socially acceptable, given that the rest of the bridal party had likely already gathered inside. You just needed to make it through the next two days, and then you could go back to your apartment, wrap yourself in a blanket, and wallow in your feelings.

You thought you’d be better at ignoring the green-eyed monster that was currently threatening to ruin what was supposed to be a happy occasion.

You’d dutifully sat through dress fittings, gave thoughtful opinions on flower arrangements and centerpieces and invitations, and meticulously planned the bridal shower and bachelorette party. It was your job as the maid of honor to make sure that everything went off without a hitch on your best friend’s special day.

You were happy for her- so happy for her. You’d never seen her like this, and you knew that she and Greg were going to have the perfect lives together. A fairytale wedding, a beautiful home, a loving family with two-point-five kids and a golden retriever in the backyard. A cliche to be sure, but you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that Melissa had found her perfect match while you were still decidedly and hopelessly single. You buried those feelings down deep, enduring it all with a smile.

It would happen for you eventually.

Probably.

Well, you could hope, right?

When you finally made your way inside, Melissa had already worked herself into a panic. The best man, Marcus, was nowhere to be found.

Mellissa had told you a little about Greg’s best man. You knew that he worked for the FBI, that he and Greg had been in a band together in his younger days, and that he was flying in from Washington D.C. for the wedding. His flight was supposed to arrive an hour ago, and then he would take a cab from the airport to the venue.

Clearly, that plan had derailed at some point.

“Greg, we only have the rehearsal space for another twenty minutes-” Melissa reminded him impatiently.

“He’ll be here, Mel. I swear, the one time he’s late for anything…” Greg sighed, shaking his head. He pulled his phone from his pocket, presumably dialing the best man’s number again before holding the phone to his ear. The silence seemed to drag on forever as Mellissa glared daggers at her husband-to-be. “Damn it, Marcus, turn your phone on...”

You tried to deescalate the situation, placing a calming hand on Melissa’s shoulder and quietly reminding her to breathe. With patience wearing thin all around, the last thing you needed was for Bridezilla to make an appearance today.

“Why don’t we just run through the ceremony without him, and he can follow my lead tomorrow. All he really has to do is stand there and hand you the rings, right? Does that sound okay?” You looked back and forth between the couple hopefully, and they nodded in agreement.

“Good. Happy thoughts, you two. It’s going to be the most magical day of your lives, I promise.”

You’d woken the next morning with a tension headache from hell, and it had stuck with you all morning. As calm as you’d made yourself out to be earlier, the case of the missing groomsman was still bothering you.

As you and the other bridesmaids got into your places for the ceremony, you ran through your mental checklist. As long as Greg’s friend was standing up there at the altar when those doors opened, you had everything under control. You’d even managed to wrangle the flower girl, Greg’s rambunctious niece, into a somewhat poised state, promising her an extra piece of cake later if she would just keep it together during the ceremony and pictures.

On the other side of the doors, you heard the music start, and one by one, the bridesmaids shuffled through the doors. When it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, smoothing your hair to the best of your ability with your bouquet-free hand and hoped for the best as you walked through the doorway. Three thoughts always stuck in your mind during these kinds of things:

One, you really, really hoped that you wouldn’t trip on the hem of the dress and bust ass in front of all of these people, effectively ruining the ceremony and humiliating yourself in the process.

Two, Am I taking too long? I’m taking too long. Oh fuck, all of these people are staring at me wondering why I won’t hurry up, aren’t they? This isn’t my wedding, I should just-

Three, you wonder what it might be like if it was. For a split second, your dress is white, your heart is fluttering, and the man of your dreams is waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Your eyes go there without really meaning to. Greg is there, of course, sweating bullets. Idly, you wonder if the photographer can fix that in editing. God, you hope so. Poor Melissa.

Then your gaze moves slightly to the right, and the fluttering in your chest returns.

Whatever lingering annoyance you had with the best man and his lack of punctuality was out the window now, his warm brown eyes melting your resolve in an instant. He smiled, showing off the dimples in his cheeks and you felt yourself returning it before your brain had time to interfere. Reaching the altar and planting yourself in your designated space, your nervousness has morphed into something you can’t quite identify, but don’t have much time to linger on. The flower girl is already making her way down the aisle, distributing the petals in the way you hand practiced repeatedly last night, much to your relief, and your heart is still racing long after Melissa walks through the doors.

Time always passes strangely during these types of things. The ceremony begins after you almost miss your cue to take the bouquet from her, and she shoots you a confused look over when it passes into your hands. As the officiant drones on and on about the bigger meaning of what is taking place here today, you find your arms aching as you try to hold both bouquets still. You wonder if you would be sore later from holding your arms this way for so long, and silently hope that everyone remembers not to lock their knees as you all try to remain frozen in place for the better part of an hour.

Finally, the officiant arrives at the portion of the ceremony you’d all been waiting for, the vows. The words of love and commitment that made your insides all warm and fuzzy. The best part of any wedding, hands down. A guaranteed tear-jerker, and, more importantly, the signal that all of this would soon be over.

“I, Greg, take you, Melissa, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part.”

Oh, what you would give to have that... The thought brought a lump to your throat, the tears in your eyes somewhere between happy and sad. Longing. That was the word for it. You forced yourself to look away from the scene, giving yourself a moment of reprieve from your own insecurities.

You didn’t mean to make eye contact with Marcus at that moment, but you found him looking back at you. The space between his eyebrows creased slightly as he noticed the pain in your eyes.

Receptions always seemed to drag, especially when you were unlucky enough not to check the plus-one box on the invitation. The bridal party had gathered themselves at one long table for dinner, but the cake had been cut well over an hour ago and all that was left was smalltalk and dancing. Or, in your case, people-watching.

You sighed, your chin resting on your hand as you watched the couple sway to the music. They looked like they were lost in their own little world, their foreheads touching as they spoke in hushed whispers that no one could hear but them. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone had looked at you like that. Actually, you weren’t sure that anyone had ever looked at you like that.

“They seem happy, huh?” A voice said from beside you. You hadn’t noticed the chair being pulled out or the tall, tuxedo-clad body dropping into it, but you looked over your shoulder to find Marcus beside you. You hadn’t dared to speak a word after the ceremony or during photos, but you had spent a good portion of the evening mesmerized by the soothing sounds of his voice as he gave the speech for his toast. It was low and raspy and warm, like whiskey and honey, and it gave you goosebumps now that it was finally being directed towards you.

“I would hope so,” You agreed quietly. “They did just get married two hours ago.”

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, giving you an inviting, hopeful smile and holding his hand out to you. “No pressure, but I wouldn’t really be fulfilling my best man duties if I didn’t ask the maid of honor to dance.” You nodded gratefully, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up and lead you out towards the dance floor.

“Can I ask you something?” He wondered, his voice quiet at the pair of you swayed to the music. Marcus had, it seemed, become your unofficial dance partner for the evening. He danced like a dork during the fast songs, but the slow songs were where he really shined.

“Go ahead,” You nodded.

“Earlier you seemed kind of… down. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Was it that obvious?” You cringed. You hoped that Melissa and Greg hadn’t picked up on your moodiness.

“I’m pretty good at reading people. Comes with the job, you know? Are you not a big fan of weddings?”

“No, I love weddings,” You shook your head. “Sometimes it just feels like… You know that phrase, ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride’? Well, that’s the unofficial title of my autobiography.”

A soft snort escaped his nose, and you narrowed your eyes at him playfully.

“Excuse me, are you laughing at my misfortune?”

He raised his hands in surrender, temporarily pausing your dancing, and you immediately felt the absence of the warmth from your waist and hand. “Not at all. I’m sort of in the same boat, actually.”

He took your hand once more, raising it above your head and spinning you before the pair of you returned to your swaying.

“The thing is, I’m happy for Melissa, I really am, but she’s never even wanted to get married. Not until she met Greg. But here she is, getting her fairytale wedding, while I couldn’t even find a date for tonight. I’ve always liked the idea of being married. The whole madly in love, growing old together, building a life with someone kind of thing. I know it’s stupid, but I really, really want it, and sometimes it feels like my life is always just going to be… this,” You explained, gesturing arbitrarily small corner of dance floor the two of you had cut out for yourselves. “Standing on the sidelines, watching everyone else find their soulmate and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.”

“I know the feeling. I once watched Greg give himself a concussion trying to smash a beer can on his head,” Marcus revealed. “Not exactly a catch, but I guess there’s someone out there for everyone.”

You laughed at that, the tension easing itself out of your shoulders. “A concussion?”

“I drove him to the hospital and everything,” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the sound of your soft giggles. He gave your waist an encouraging squeeze, relieved that the sadness in your eyes had finally disappeared.

“Alright, so we’ve discussed my deepest, darkest secret. Isn’t it your turn to make an embarrassing confession?” You asked teasingly. You were having more fun than you’d expected to have this evening; Marcus’ presence seemed to eclipse everything around you.

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “Does it have to be embarrassing?”

“Maybe not embarrassing, but it can’t be boring,” You decided, your curiosity piqued.

“Okay,” He agreed. “I told Greg that I was working a case and that’s why I had to catch a red-eye this morning instead of getting in last night.”

“Mmm, I’ve gotta say. That is a bit boring,”

“Yeah? Well, it was a lie.”

“Oh? You’ve caught my interest. And what is your excuse for the stress-induced headache your tardiness caused me this morning?”

“I almost decided not to show up at all,” He admitted. “Made it all the way to the airport before I turned around and went home. Turned off my phone, completely unpacked… My fiancé left me for another man about a year ago, and I guess I still have some wedding-related issues of my own to work through. But Greg is one of my best friends, so… here I am.”

“Oh, I’m…” You fumbled, not quite prepared for the level of honesty that he’d given you in his answer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know-”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “It’s okay. I just meant that… I get it. It’s like you said. A life, a home, a family… That’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I thought I did everything right and that clearly wasn’t enough, so I started thinking that maybe there was something wrong with me. But I think the truth is that she just wasn’t the right person.”

“Wow, Marcus… I know there’s an open bar, but I feel like I should buy you a drink after that. That’s horrible…”

He chuckled, shrugging. “I was pretty relieved when I saw I wasn’t the only one here counting down the hours until I could leave and go home.”

“So… do you still think the right person is out there, then?” You asked quietly.

“Oh, definitely,” Marcus said confidently, squeezing the hand that was still clasped in his. His eyes were molten as they looked into yours with an earnestness that set your heart racing. “Maybe they’re just running a little late.”

Melissa glanced over her shoulder to look at the maid of honor and best man, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she turned back to her new husband.

“You don’t have your wallet on you, do you?” She asked, the I-told-you-so obvious in her tone.

“You don’t win the bet unless he asks her out,” Greg reminded her.

“Greg, get real. You see the way they’re looking at each other. I want my twenty bucks, babe.”

Greg glanced over at his friend, instantly recognizing Marcus’ lovestruck expression. He had to hand it to Melissa, she’s one of a hell of a matchmaker.

“Double or nothing,” He countered. “I’m guessing…. A wedding within the next… Two years?”

Melissa scoffed. “Bring it on. I’ll rig the bouquet toss and we’ll have that invitation taped to the fridge within the year.”

General Taglist:

@theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest @supernaturalcat7 @maythxthirstbxwithyou

Pedro Character Taglist:

@coldlilheart

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader

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sparklysung · 4 years

Text

✨OPEN CURTAINS PART II – h.r.j.✨

pairing – huang renjun x female!reader

genre – fluff, smut | non-idol!au, neighbours!au

warnings – voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, fingering, penetration, protected sex

word count – 3.150 words

summary – after being caught jerking off to his neighbour, things only got better for renjun.

note – writing this was so frkng difficult and i’m still not completely convinced, but i hope it lives up to your expectations, tho! i’m sorry if it doesn’t :’) but i tried my best. also, i finished it earlier than i thought lol. enjoy and now, just you wait for part iii soon!

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon

part i ; part 2 ; part 3

to say that renjun was mortified was an understatement.

after the incident of you catching him red-handed, he started avoiding you like the plague. he even started keeping his bedroom curtains closed, afraid of being seen inside and you deciding to confront him about it.

the poor boy couldn’t even sleep properly. he kept waking up almost every night with sweat coating his forehead, dark hair sticking to it, while heavy breaths filled the room.

the times when renjun was lucky, the cause of his insomnia was a wet dream, in which the both of you did everything but innocent things. every time it happened, he woke up in the middle of the night or early in the morning with a painful boner, precum staining the crotch of his boxers. either way, it always ended up with his hand down his pants, desperate for some kind of relief. never, not even during his teenage years, had he experienced so many wet dreams in such a short amount of time.

though when he wasn’t, nightmares tormented his slumber, messing up his sleep schedule even more. he was terrified of the idea of facing you after what happened, as he expected you to think the worse out of him. and to be fair, you had every reason to.

the sleepless nights he spent turning and rolling around in his bed plus the time he spent studying and working on his school assignments had deep dark circles forming under his eyes. it also had become part of renjun’s routine to fall asleep on his desk at school, too tired to pay attention to what was happening during class. and he was getting out of excuses for his exhausted state.

you were driving him crazy and he didn’t know how much time he was going to last until he broke down.

~.~.~.~

the day renjun most dreaded eventually came when he accidentally bumped into you while going to the nearby store.

it was supposed to be a quick and easy task. he just needed to buy some groceries his mother needed to make dinner later that day and the only person he would be required to talk to was the cashier. so he thought he was safe. that’s why, for the first time after the incident –as he had named it–, he decided to go out of his house for other than school and take a break from everything.

“ouch,” renjun didn’t look up at first, so he didn’t notice it was you who he had bumped into, his attention focused on the place where his arm was hit. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying attention,” he mumbled, ready to continue his path to the store.

“it’s fine, i noticed,” he froze in his spot as realization fell on him that it was you, the last person he wanted to see. his head shot up, eyes wide in panic and breath turning uneven as his mind raced with thoughts of how to get away from you as fast as he could.

maybe he should go back to china, after all, change his name and erase all traces of ever being alive.

“renjun, right? your name is huang renjun?” you slightly tilted your head and renjun thought he had never seen someone look so effortlessly pretty, his heart felt like it was about to combust. curiosity about your good looking neighbour –who you’ve been wanting to get to know so bad for a while– grew inside of you as you observed him nervously moving around. and had to admit you were especially intrigued after seeing him so unashamedly touching himself with his eyes locked on your body.

a completely different side of him from what you were currently seeing.

gathering the little courage he could find within his body, he spoke up, “uhm, yeah… i guess that’s me?” the sound of his awkward laugh made a smile form on your face.

“so…” renjun awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “i’m sorry for, you know… snooping around and nutting off to you like that, you know, a few days ago.” his hands started getting clammy as he felt his body heat up. “i know it wasn’t nice of me and it was so wrong… i just…” you almost let out a small chuckle at his flustered state.

as he stopped talking and just stared ashamedly at the floor, you decided to tease him just a little bit. “you just…?” you raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response before continuing, “you just happened to have your hand on your dick while looking out of your window the moment i caught you?” you jokingly questioned.

when his eyes opened wide with shock and the tip of his ears turned red out of pure embarrassment, you knew you’d hit the right button.

“fuck, i-i’m really freaking sorry, alright?” his hands came up to cover his face, voice wavering. “i don’t know what else to tell you or how to make it up to you?” he spoke quietly, unsure of what he was saying. your smaller hands took his out of his face, forcing him to look at you once again.

“oh, don’t worry about it, renjun,” you took a step closer without letting go of his hands, your chests almost touching, “you’ll have an opportunity to show me how sorry you are and make it up to me.” with a breathy whisper in his ear, you let go of him, turned around and walked away.

renjun stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing at all how to react.

you were so confusing to him. always so mysterious, staying locked inside your room instead of going out with your friends –and he knew for a fact you had quite a lot–. he had never seen you bring people to your house, let alone your room. he could tell you weren’t exactly shy, but more on the quiet side. you liked keeping to yourself and being a spectator rather than the main character, but either way, you were captivating. so much so that you didn’t need to be in the spotlight to be the center of attention.

since the first time he laid eyes on you when your family was moving in next door, he couldn’t take them away. it was like an invisible force pulled him towards you, making him want to get closer.

but you were out of his reach. and out of his league.

he could never catch up to you after class ended, as you always left as soon as your teacher bid goodbye. so he rarely got to see you due to being in different classrooms and hanging out with different friend groups.

that frustrated renjun to no end.

it felt like the universe just didn’t want you two to happen. like it despised the idea of something sparking between you. like it wanted you apart and as far away as possible.

that’s one of the reasons why he ended giving up on trying to get to know you. apart of you apparently not being interested in him anyway.

~.~.~.~

the one day renjun decided to open his curtains to let natural light and fresh air in, you happened to be at home. just like the first time. he felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as this was the first time in a while he was looking past his window and into your room.

through the also open curtains, he could see you, looking prettier than ever. your hair was messy as if you had just woken up from a nap. your oversized clothes made you look even smaller than you were. biting back a smile, renjun thought about how you would look like wearing his clothes. he was a few inches taller than you, so one of his shirts would probably fit you like a short dress.

he was scared of how much he had been thinking of you lately, especially of the way his heart fluttered against his chest whenever he did. the two of you hadn’t even held a proper conversation, he knew how slim the possibility of something happening with you was and yet he was crushing on you.

renjun didn’t notice he had been staring until he felt your intense gaze burning back at him. his eyes moved away from you as heat rose to colour his cheeks, tongue poking the inside of it. his hand ran through his hair, softly messing it up, to distract himself and prevent him from looking back at you.

he had been caught staring by you, again.

renjun tried to control himself, nails biting into the skin of his palm. he knew you were watching his every move the exact same way he was watching you. you had already confronted him one time about it and it was pretty awkward. he didn’t want to go through something similar again.

once was enough.

his eyes darted back towards you when you moved, successfully getting his attention back to you. neither of you broke eye contact as you positioned yourself so he could see you perfectly from where he was standing up. you laid on your bed, back pressed against your mattress as your head sunk into your pillows. he gasped when your legs opened, allowing him to look at both your face and hand as it slid down to the crotch of the leggings you were wearing, lightly rubbing your clothed bundle of nerves.

renjun forced himself to stay still and not give in so easily. his jaw clenched tightly as ragged breaths filled his room. he could feel his hardening member throb from the confines of his pants.

he wasn’t sure if you were just testing him, trying to see how much you could push him until he finally snapped, or if you were making a move on him, putting on a show to hint your interest.

and he was scared he was mistakenly reading your signs.

he knew he couldn’t afford fucking up his nearly non-existing chance of getting closer.

tugging your pants down your legs, you threw the cloth next to your bed. the revelation of you lacy panties made a groan fall from his lips, his own hand betraying him and making its way to the tent forming in his pants. fingers squeezing his bulge, he chewed on his lip.

you had him just where you wanted him, hot and bothered, hand rubbing himself through his clothes. he looked so good and you couldn’t wait to see him cumming again. truth is you couldn’t stop thinking about the fucked out state he was in a couple of days ago since he left you to get yourself off to the memory of the sinful things he had done.

you pushed the cloth aside, too eager to touch yourself to properly undress. gently massaging your folds to spread your slick arousal, you sighed in content. you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the way renjun was eyeing you hungrily, hands aching to touch you.

seeing your parted lips, red and swollen from biting into them, he wished he was able to hear you and listen to the sound of your moans and whimpers. all of the times he had fantasized about it flashed before his eyes as he tried to pretend they were coming from you.

“f–fuck,” mouth agape as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hand sliding up and down faster when he saw your lips move into what seemed to be a moan of his name.

he hoped he was right and you were actually calling out his name while touching yourself.

soon enough, your fingers were plunging themselves as deep as they could go inside your pulsating core; renjun’s hips fucking his fist as fast as his body allowed him. loud moans and groans filled both of your rooms, neither of you bothering to keep quiet inside your empty homes.

both your orgasms came faster than you thought, thighs shaking as you both threw your heads back, crying out each other's names. renjun shot his load, his seed dripping down his hand, eyes focused on you as your walls clenched around your fingers, juices running down and staining your bedsheets.

your chests heaved with every pant you let out as you tried to control your uneven breathing, neither of you moving a muscle as you stared into each other's eyes.

~.~.~.~

the second time renjun got to see you put on a private show for him was slightly different.

this time, you weren’t exactly alone.

bitterness filled renjun’s body as he saw a guy, who he thinks looks an awful lot like one of his classmates, entering your room, hands intertwined with yours. his mouth fell agape when you closed your door and made your way towards the guy, who was sitting on the edge of your bed. he saw you straddle him, hands going to his cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

renjun couldn’t see the guy, as his back was facing the window, but he didn’t need to, he could tell where his hands had travelled and it made him feel sick to the stomach. he didn’t like one bit of it, standing there by his window with a clenched jaw.

he wanted to be the one there with you, sitting on your bed with you perched on his lap while the two of you kissed. he wanted to run his hands along your body, softly caressing your sides. hold your smaller hands in his bigger ones, comparing them and laughing happily at the difference. tell you how beautiful you were and how he thought you were a work of art that blessed his eyes every time he looked at you.

it hurt his heart to see you with someone else that wasn’t him, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. not with the way your eyes had wandered out of your window until they locked with his. he was about to yeet himself out of this world, hand reaching to close his curtains until you smiled at him.

you just smiled. at him. after catching him staring, again. while you were with another guy.

renjun stood frozen, hand mid-air, not knowing, again, what to do with himself. seeming to notice his internal conflict, you resolved you could be a nice neighbour and put on a show, just for his eyes to witness.

it was like a switch had been flipped inside of you.

he saw how your expression changed and he didn’t know if he should have been afraid.

with one of your hands, you pushed daehyun’s chest –the guy you were with– so he was laying down. the new position was perfect for renjun to see everything; he could see your hands pressed against his chest, hips hovering over his and hair covering your pretty face.

he tried to ignore the way the guy’s hands explored your body, feeling every part of you.

without breaking eye contact with renjun, you pulled daehyun by the collar and connected, once again, your lips. he propped himself in a more comfortable position, resting on his forearms. you pressed yourself down on him, rutting against his groin and earning a groan.

the bulge in renjun’s pants was getting more noticeable as time passed, but this time he didn’t restrain himself from touching himself.

two could play this game.

clothes flew all around the room as you both undressed. you pushed daehyun so he was laying on the bed. after rolling a condom on his shaft, you straddled him again, his hands coming to rest on your hips and help you grind on his length pressed against his stomach. a sigh fell from your lips as his hip bone came in contact with your sensitive clit.

with one of your hands holding onto his shoulder, you positioned yourself right above his dick. and as much as renjun despised the idea of someone else being so intimate with you, he was still curious about how you looked like when being pleasured. he wanted to see how your face contorted in ecstasy when cumming undone.

as he saw the guy’s cock ease into you, he tried to ignore the burning feeling in his throat.

lower lip caught between your teeth to prevent blurting out renjun’s name instead of daehyun’s, you couldn’t help yourself but imagine him instead of the man currently thrusting up into you.

you wanted him, not daehyun. as hot as you thought the latter was, something in the way renjun looked at you as his hand moved, trying to replicate the rhythm of your hips, turned you on to no end. you wished you were gripping into renjun’s shoulders instead, tugging at his hair, while he pounded into you and his fingers played with your clit.

and oh, how he wished he was that asshole.

definitely, you behaving so dirty under his intense gaze without a trace of shame, eyes never leaving him instead of looking at the guy you were with, was such a turn on for him. it made him think that, hopefully, you craved him just as much as he craved you.

daehyun kept ramming into you, both hands resting against the mattress and leaving your clit unattended. you internally scoffed, reaching out to get the job done by yourself. renjun seemed to understand your upset state as he visibly scowled, glaring at daehyun.

the asshole was only focused on chasing after his own orgasm, without thinking the smallest bit of the beautiful girl sitting on top of him.

renjun huffed angrily, he surely could treat you better. he would prioritize your pleasure before his, stay hard for a whole day without complaining if it meant he could make you feel good.

if only he could take care of you just how you deserve.

he could sense the change in your demeanour as soon as your fingers got to work, and he took a mental note to treasure this piece of information and make good use of it if he ever got the chance.

soon, the tightening knot in your lower tummy snapped and just like that you were cumming, squeezing around daehyun as he groaned, thrusting harder. your eyes closed, head tilting to the side and hands gripping the sheets while sloppily grinding down on him.

“so pretty, fuck,” renjun’s hips stuttered while his hot seed dripped down to stain his pants, a guttural groan leaving his chest.

and yet another pair of pants ruined.

but he wouldn’t mind dirtying more if it was because of you.

he reached for some tissues from his nightstand as he looked away, sudenly feeling ashamed.

renjun usually prided himself on thinking objectively before acting, but he was aware that letting all this happen wasn’t one of his wisest decisions.

or was it?

–lia:)

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Note

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, do you think Charles,Barbara, Eugenia and Anna were close? Anna maybe less because she’s closer in age to the merry thieves set and she probably ghosted Charles after the Ariadne engagement. Would you consider a fic of them all growing up, starting with them 4 as little kids and then slowly becoming teens and adults and then dealing with Barbara’s death. I think it would be a fun idea since nobody ever considers them to be a older merry thieves.

You can thank my social anxiety for this one bc I stress wrote it in school 🙃

TW: panic attacks, death

Title: When we were young

Characters: Barbara Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Anna was sitting by the fire when Charles came into the room. She hated him. She truly did. But, somehow, at that moment, she felt strange. He looked at her and it took her many years back, to when they weren’t exactly friends, but they were far from what they are now to each other.

…

“And that was how Consul Wentworth fixed the crisis of 1687.” Charles said with a satisfied smile to himself.

The Lightwood girls were his audience. Well, sort of. Eugenia’s cheek was resting on her fist, squishing the right side of her face as her lidded eyes approached shutting completely. Anna was slumped against Eugenia, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes opened wide, staring at a fixed spot on the floor. Their luminous dark blue glittered in the witchlight, looking exquisitely uncanny. Barbara was mid-yawn, leaning on the leg of a sofa.

“Wow, Charles. Thanks for the history lesson.” Eugenia said, monotonously. It was evident that she’d inherited her mother’s sass from the day she was born, when Barbara had woken her up by exclaiming at the sight of her newborn sister, and Genie responded by pulling her sister’s hair.

“Oh, and in 1690-“

“NO!” All three Lightwood daughters shrieked.

“I’m still not done, though.” Said Charles.

“Yes, you are.” Eugenia said, standing up and settling the matter. “We are positively bored. There is absolutely nothing to do except listen to Charles talk about politics, and if those are the only two options, frankly, I’d rather be bored.”

Charles crossed his arms. “Being an intellect is not boring.”

Little two year old Anna looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“I swear, Thomas is having a better time than we are,” Eugenia said glaring at to where their parents were, with the tiny, almost invisible baby nestled in Gideon’s arms, his fingers wrapped around Sophie's thumb. The parents were all laughing about something, which made Eugenia scowl even more.

“To be an adult.” Barbara said, with a martyred sigh.

“We needn’t be adults to have fun.” Charles said.

“I suppose you’re going to torture us with more political trivia.”

“No,” Charles said. “I was going to suggest we go through the attic.”

The girls looked up at this and Charles smirked, clearly proud of himself at having come up with a good idea. For once.

“What is in the attic?”

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s probably strange and obscure things. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in our house.”

Barbara and Eugenia exchanged a look before the eldest Lightwood sister turned to him.

“We shall go and discover this mysterious attic you speak of.”

…

“What could this even be?” Barbara said, holding up a loose gear-like contraption.

“Papa sometimes builds things out of clockwork.” Charles said, sitting cross legged. “Or, he used to at least.”

“That’s…”

Genie and Charles looked at Barbara as she trailed off.

“Nevermind, I have no comment.”

Charles nodded as though that was a common reaction people had in terms of his father’s experiments.

They rummaged through boxes upon boxes, finding momentos they didn’t understand such as papers upon papers of things that said many difficult words. They could distinguish a couple of words such as “infernal” and “devices”, however there were many that made no sense to them.

“What is a Mortmain?” Asked Genie.

“I think it’s an undead horse or something along those lines,” said Charles.

“Oh,” said Eugenia. “That’s disgusting.”

“Quite,” agreed Barbara.

Anna was toddling around the room, giggling. She almost tripped over a loose floorboard, and would have, had Charles not reached out and grabbed a hold of the back of her dress.

“This is too dangerous for a small child like Anna,” Barbara said, ever the mother-goose. “I shall take her downstairs before she hurts herself.”

Anna protested at first, but acquiesced once Barbara bribed her with the promise of dessert.

…

“What are you doing here?” Anna asked.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting her blue ones.

…

Charles remembered that day like it was just yesterday.

He and Eugenia had stayed behind rifling through boxes, which wasn’t unwelcome, as Eugenia and Charles had an easy, lighthearted and, at times, profound, friendship. Despite their age gap, they enjoyed each other’s company, though neither could say why. Perhaps, it was simply because they mocked each other. Or perhaps, it was sometimes they would occasionally talk about things such as philosophy, and whether what they were seeing was true, or the world was just a figment of their imaginations. Or a mixture of the two; they’d never really discussed it.

Eugenia surprised him when she said, “do you ever feel… different from your parents?”

Charles furrowed his brows, “in what aspect?”

“Love.”

“Have you a suitor?” Charles inquired, intrigued.

“No. Actually, that was my question. I find that, sometimes, I don’t only enjoy the idea of a male suitor, but perhaps, I also enjoy the company of a woman. Perhaps.” She pressed her lips together tightly, as if forcing herself to stop speaking.

Charles looked at her, his bright green eyes wide. “I-um-…”

“But I’m not sure, of course.” Eugenia blurted out. “It’s not as if shadowhunters are precisely fond of that particular preference or-“

“Do you really think they wouldn’t like it?” Charles asked, softly. “Do you believe they will reject those who are like that?”

Eugenia looked down. “I’m afraid I’m most sure of it.”

Charles had then realized that he couldn’t have both. There was no way around it.

He knew his parents were happy and that love made them complete. However, they didn’t have to choose. They could be married and the idea wouldn’t affect their respective occupations. Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be Consul and have the kind of love he wanted. He almost resented them because of it. They were able to do what they loved and nobody forced them to pick between one or the other.

It was unfair. So incredibly unfair.

“I guess you better get rid of your feelings towards women than.” He said simply, “unless you’re willing to let something as simple as love get in the way of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Eugenia asked, looking confused and a tiny bit hurt.

But Charles got up to go back downstairs to his parents, aunts and uncles.

…

Charles slumped down in a chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“She was just here.” He said quietly. “Babs, was just here.”

Anna felt sudden rage. “You are not allowed to mourn her.”

Charles looked up. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I can’t be sad. She was my cousin too. Perhaps not by blood, but she was still a cousin.” He pressed his lips together angrily and stared fixedly at the witchlight stone that was illuminating the room.

Anna, however, couldn’t find it in her to be diplomatic; she got up and left the room.

…

Anna had never seen Eugenia look this way. She was always put together, posh. But now, she looked hollow. Like a shell of who she used to be. Anna wanted to go up to her, to say something, but she felt lost for words. What did you tell someone who lost a dear sister? If Anna felt sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what Eugenia was feeling.

Her head was tilted upwards, looking up at the pyre where the corpse of her sister lay. Tears were streaming down her face, rolling down her cheeks, throat and chest, leaving streaks on her face that looked like the roots of a tree.

Sophie had her arm around her daughter. The sight of the four of them was very strange. There was a gap missing where Barbara should have been. She suddenly felt a hand take hold of her own. She looked to her right and saw her mother looking straight ahead, squeezing her daughter’s hand. Her father was looking down, holding Alex. Her baby brother was one of the few who looked up at the cousin who’d taught him to play simple songs on the piano, and had always let him sleep in her arms on New Year's eve.

She didn’t know what he must have been thinking now, staring up at the pyre.

Though, to be fair, she didn’t quite know what to think herself, as she looked up at the cousin who’s life was cut far too short.

…

Eugenia’s body didn’t feel like her own. She hadn’t felt this body was her own for a while. Even since Augustus and the secret she’d kept to herself.

This was somehow worse. To be torn away from your best friend, whom you’d shared a room with almost your entire life. Eugenia didn’t know how to live in a world without Barbara. Sometimes, in the rare moments when she forgot about her sadness, she’d call her sister’s name, ready to tell her about what had happened in her novel. Or find herself walking to Barbara’s room without thinking and then staring blankly at the door that has remained shut ever since the day she passed away.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d found a letter Barbara had sent her when she’d been in Idris. It was in between her copy of Jane Eyre. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in its entirety, but she stared at the signature blankly.

Suddenly, she got the urge to run. So she ran. That’s how, an hour later, she’d gotten a small tattoo under her ankle that said “Sincerely, your favorite sister Babs.”

It felt right to have Bab’s signature there, we’re only she could see. It made her feel accompanied everywhere she went, even though nobody else could see.

Now, looking up at the pyre, her face tight from tears she’d left to dry, her mother weeping silently, she could almost imagine that her sister was there, simply caught in a slumber and that she’d wake up at any moment and come tumbling down, throwing herself in Eugenia’s arms.

Any moment now, she thought when the pyre burst into flames.

“Ave atque vale, Barbara Lightwood.” The crowd said at once.

Eugenia shook her head and swayed on her feet. Her breathing became heavy and her fingers began prickling. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. No nononono.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, vaguely that it was her father’s.

Not Barbara.

Not Babs.

“Calm down, Genie.”

Not her sister. Her sister couldn’t possibly be up there.

“Breathe Eugenia.”

She wanted to scream that she couldn’t, that she’d never breathe again, as long as her sister wasn’t breathing with her. Why did she have to live? She would have much preferred that Barbara live in her stead.

The world was numb and fractured, never to be fixed again.

…

(Don’t worry, Gideon was able to help Genie after the fic ends bc he’s the best dad)

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @ninacarstairss @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @icouldnotask @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465 @livvyheronstairs @zemiraa @proudtobealuthor @neurogliadudette @theenchanteddreamer @cheeseandmacarons

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#tsc #tlh #eugenia lightwood #barbara lightwood #charles buford fairchild #gabriel lightwood #anna lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily herondale #tlh fanfic #tlh fanfiction #the last hours #tid #sophie lightwood #gideon lightwood

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

Text

Sea Salt: One

Summary: As a noblewoman from a small (and nefarious) kingdom in the Stepstones and quiet Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she is accustomed to being looked through rather than looked at. The only exceptions to this rule are Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas Tyrell but they are often far from the dark shadows of the Red Keep or Dragonstone. She finds comfort in her quiet friendship with the princess and the delight of the darling royal children. But as Prince Rhaegar places a wreath of blue roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark and rebellion starts to rage, she knows she will have to live up to her reputation. But luckily, she seems to have two allies lurking in the shadows.

Pairing(s): Eventual Willas Tyrell/F!Reader/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 10.2k (these are all going to be monster chapters. I apologize)

Rating for this chapter: T for a bit of violence. but not much. my over-use of italics and my love for ASOIAF lore. If you have any questions or need clarifications, please just ask! I’m playing fast and loose with a bit of it, and a few ages, too. But I’m always happy to answer any questions you have!

(banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites)

Chapter One: The Salt of the Tears

Or you can read on Ao3!

For all its supposed charms and storied history, Westeros had very few redeeming qualities. Most of the noblemen Y/N was forced to associate with during her time in the kingdom were filled with intolerable hubris and a lack of humor. They also liked to joke about her ‘little kingdom’ in the Stepstones as being inferior and nefarious—it would have been better if they could actually choose what they wanted to call her home. It seemed to be impossible to be both inferior and nefarious. And everything was so…bland this side of the Narrow Sea. She was used to Skilliga where people could trace their ancestries to Yi-Ti, the Summer Isles, the Bone Mountains, and beyond, all of them proud and varied. All of them fleeing the constrictions of their old lands and finding freedom in the islands and the homes they dug into the rock. They were proud to defend themselves in any way that was necessary and gained riches and notoriety with their famed corsairs. And, finally, the clothes were itchy and constricting and the food was largely unseasoned.

But there were a few bright spots in her time in the Seven Kingdoms. Mostly, it was Princess Elia Martell. Her nearest and dearest friend. Accepting the position had not truly been her decision anyway. She had been woken up by her uncle Hammond, the king of their little kingdom, nearly four years ago with him tossing a heavy scroll at her head.

“Tywin Lannister is offering to open up trade with Westeros again if you behave yourself at Court and marry some lord they choose. I’ve had your things packed. You leave at sunup.”

And Y/N knew that she was serving her kingdom by becoming a faceless peon for some pompous princess and then, perhaps, a broodmare for some strange man—but that did not mean she was going to be happy about it. In fact, she had been fully prepared to be the worst lady’s maid the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen…until Princess Elia.

Elia with her quick wit and soft smiles.

Elia with her musical laughter and unfailing loyalty.

Elia. The best friend she had never dreamed of ever gaining.

They would spend hours together in either her rooms or Elia’s chambers at Dragonstone, speaking of their lives before the Targaryens, laughing about the charades of courtly life, and dreaming about their futures.

“What type of queen will you be?” Y/N asked with a tease as they passed a jug of sweet grape juice between them. Rhaegar was out…somewhere, probably pondering some ancient prophecy that didn’t make any sense, and Y/N was happy to not have to pretend to care about anything that came out between his thin lips. “Quiet and mysterious?”

Elia laughed and shook her head. “I have had my fill of being quiet, I think. No. I do not want to be a quiet queen.”

“No? Then you may be the boisterous queen, always telling Tywin Lannister than his ideas are preposterous and he is not the true king of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Elia shushed her, fighting another bout of giggles and reached for the jug but knocked one of the numerous pillows from the bed, revealing a small blade atop the blankets. “Another one?” Elia asked with a huff. She handed the blade over with a frown. “Honestly, dear heart, you seem to think that everyone means you harm.”

Y/N took it and carefully hid it away in another place with a shrug of her shoulder. “I have met only three people who I would trust to not stab me through the heart when I’ve turned my back. It is better to be prepared than to be caught unaware.”

“Please tell me that you do not still keep half a dozen blades on your person when we go to court or the market.”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, good-”

“It is now a perfect dozen.”

Elia walloped her with a pillow, fighting another laugh. “You are a menace.”

“I am your most trusted confidante in this wretched city,” Y/N retorted, knocking the pillow away with a smirk. “You need better friends.”

Elia shook her head, still smiling. “You are enough trouble for several lifetimes, dear heart. You and Oberyn will be the cause of all my grey hair before Rhaenys reaches her fifth nameday, I am sure of it.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of the Dornish prince’s name. It had been too long since she had seen him. While he had been somewhat sent into exile after the suspicious death of Lord Yronwood, the youngest Martell had hopped across the Narrow Sea to become a sellsword for a moment after growing bored at the Citadel and visiting his sister at Dragonstone where he had met Y/N and she had somehow endeared herself to him. “He will be joining you for the tourney at Harrenhal, yes?”

The princess nodded. “It will be good to see him. I always hated knowing he was off in Essos.” Elia sighed before she glanced at Y/N. “And I’ve received word that Lord Willas will also be in attendance.”

“Do not.”

“Do not what?” Elia repeated, leaning closer to her friend with a conspiratorial smile. “I simply mentioned his name.”

“You know exactly what you are doing!” Y/N growled, knowing it would only mean Elia had won—as she always did.

Willas was the firstborn of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, and Lady Alerie Hightower. He’d been an only child for most of his life, his mother having trouble carrying to term several times before little Garlan was born over a decade later. And Y/N was very fond of Willas, just as he seemed fond of her. He was happy to make her laugh when he was at court, seeking her out when he should have been speaking with Rhaegar and gaining the crown prince’s favor for The Reach (not that it was necessary) or attending some vapid luncheon with other noblemen.

“He is a good man. And you deserve a good man.” Elia patted her shoulder, soft smile on her face.

“He is the heir to Highgarden-”

“Mama?” A quiet voice at the door had them turning to see little Rhaenys, rubbing her teary eyes. Her kitten, little Balerion, was sitting dutifully at his princess’ feet and quickly kept pace on his little legs when she walked into the room.

“Come here, sunshine,” Elia said, opening her arms toward her daughter and carefully scooping her up onto the bed. She gently pushed Rhaenys’ hair away from her damp cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Tell me what is wrong, my love.”

“Another nightmare?” Y/N asked. Balerion meowed until she bent down and helped him onto the bed where he quickly curled into a ball in the princesses’ laps.

Rhaenys nodded, a few more tears trailing down her cheeks. “It was scary, mama. A big dog came in and…” she hiccupped and Y/N felt her chest squeeze at the little girl’s pain.

Elia hummed and patiently waited for Rhaenys to finish telling her what she had seen in her dream. While the massive dog her mind had conjured scared her, it was the manticore that crawled from beneath her father’s bed that truly frightened her. Its vicious tail going straight for her throat over and over again until she woke up with little Balerion pawing at her nightgown, trying to stop her cries. “It is just a dream, sunshine. You are safe here. I will not let anything hurt you.”

Rhaenys sniffled and nodded but continued to hold her mother tight. “I know, mama. You and Lady Y/N will protect me.”

Y/N reached out and curled the lone strand of silver hair that Rhaenys had around her finger. “Of course we will, princess. Our world needs its Sunshine.”

The little princess finally turned her head out of her mother’s chest and smiled at Y/N, tears still gathering at the sides of her eyes. “I’m your sunshine, too?”

“You are,” Y/N said with a smile, gently tugging at silver strand before letting it curl back around her ear. “You are my sunshine, your mother’s sunshine, your grandmother’s sunshine, uncle Oberyn-”

“And father?” Rhaenys asked. “Am I his sunshine, too?”

“Of course,” Elia said and then kissed Rhaenys’ hair again. “Your father loves you very much.”

The three spoke in hushed tones for a little longer—just long enough for the little princess to fall asleep in her mother’s arms. Elia was careful as she slid off Y/N’s featherbed and kept her daughter in her grasp.

“I suppose it is time for us all to retire.”

Y/N nodded and offered to help put Rhaenys back to bed but was waved off by Elia, as she knew she would be. Elia was always fond of the little, quiet moments she stole with her daughter. Away from the pretenses of courtly life and the expectations of her husband’s father. This was Elia at her brightest, her strongest. When it was just her and her sunshine.

Y/N often wondered if she’d ever have moments like that—moments of soft reprieve from the trials of courtly life, either here in Westeros or back home in Skilliga, near the Stepstones in the Narrow Sea. She also wondered if Rhaegar would ever pull his head out of his ass and realize that Elia was his wife and not some thoughtless vase he could ignore and only pick up out of necessity. She wondered what the future held. For everyone.

But, whatever it did, she hoped it treated Elia well. It was what the princess deserved.

Y/N gently rubbed Elia’s back with a frown. It was the third time this morning that they had to have the wheelhouse stop so the princess could empty her rolling stomach. She quickly handed Elia a bit of juice and a damp cloth as she stood tall again with a wince.

“It was like this with Rhaenys,” Elia murmured, a hand cradling her stomach. The maester had confirmed she was with child again, the day before they set off toward Harrenhal for this stupid tourney. "You remember, don't you?"

Y/N did. And she worried then, too. But the Maester had also found that this would be Elia’s last pregnancy. Her body would not be able to handle another. And Rhaegar had only nodded once before turning and excusing himself from Elia’s chambers to play his stupid harp, looking out his chamber windows with a familiar (and consistently grating) pensive look on his face.

“The dragon must have three heads,” was all Y/N heard him say when she was eavesdropping on the conversation the husband and wife shared later that night. He was obsessed with some sort of prophecy. It was as if he didn’t care that his wife was of fragile health and pregnant with his child.

Y/N hated him.

Hated the stupid, silver-haired prince.

“We can stop for the day,” Y/N said. “It is not as if the tourney will be held up by your absence. You need your rest.”

Elia shook her head and told the wheelhouse driver to continue on and the large caravan started to move again. “The sooner we arrive, the sooner I can rest. You know I do not sleep well on the road.”

Rhaenys, the little sun, had slept through most of the travel, curled up on the velvet pillows on the other side of the wheelhouse, barely aware of any goings-on aside from when they stopped for the night or meals. And that was the way Elia preferred it, sheltering her daughter from courtly life and its trappings.

Elia reached out and patted her hand with a small smile. “It is worth it, dear heart.” She leaned back and shut her eyes for a moment. “I know when I hold this babe in my arms, all of this will seem like a distant memory. All of it…all of this is worth it.”

Y/N was not convinced. But she nodded anyway. “Tell me, do you think Ser Arthur will beat Rhaegar this time?”

Elia laughed.

The tourney was the largest the Seven Kingdoms had seen in generations. Ten days filled with jousting, melees, archery, axe-throwing, and horse racing. And feasting. Every night ended with a feast in Harrenhal’s great room, filled with piles of food and jugs of expensive wine and ale.

It was exhausting. And much too far from a substantial body of water for her to feel truly comfortable. She needed the sea, the water. Thankfully, Rhaenys also found the tourney lacking and was happy to accompany Y/N to the edge of the lake known as the God’s Eye and they enjoyed the chilled water and allowed the hungry fish to nibble at their ankles.

Y/N had grown up watching horse races, bet on boat races around the islands of Skilliga, and even participated in a few events herself. This tourney was…boring. Excessively so. Elia, more than once, had to nudge her to keep her from dozing in their box. Thankfully, the company was good.

Arthur Dayne was a kind man, a fine knight, a member of the fabled Kingsguard and Sword of the Morning. Y/N was sure they would sing songs of his deeds long after his soul had left. And he had the honor of knowing he was the crown prince’s dearest friend. (Y/N did not think this was an honor but did not voice that to the kind knight and tried not to hold it against him.)

But Y/N saw how his eyes softened whenever Elia would appear. His easy smile was near-permanent whenever she would whisper into his ear with some joke or story. He was in love. A soft, gentle love with a bedrock foundation. It was so different than the lukewarm platitudes Rhaegar dealt her within the confines of their marriage.

Maybe in a different life, Elia and Arthur could have lived a happy life in Dorne together. Far away from the Mad King’s machinations and paranoid delusions and Rhaegar’s apathy. But now, in this life, Arthur had to be content to simply stand at her back in their royal box when he was not participating in the tourney—right now he was readying for his turn in the melee and Elia had wished him luck before he departed.

Ser Lewyn, Elia’s uncle and knight of the Kingsguard, was another knight assigned to their box and they knew they could speak freely in his presence. He was a man of quick wit and fiercely protective of his niece and her baby. He was one of the few people who knew of Elia’s second pregnancy and was quick to have a servant fetch her something to eat or drink if needed. “And you are as lovely, as always, Lady Y/N,” Lewyn would say with a wink. He was such a flirt—but it was always in good humor. She knew him to have a lover in King’s Landing to whom he was devoted.

For the moment, Elia and Y/N were alone in their box, unguarded. She knew that anyone would be foolish to try anything but it still set her on edge when she noticed the fabric at the back start to sway with someone coming up. Her hand slowly slipped toward one of the small blades she kept in her boot but then she recognized the man slipping into the box. It was Oberyn—three days late and smirking. He winked at Y/N and pressed a finger to his lips before he snuck up on Elia and roared with laughter when she nearly leapt from her seat when his hands clapped over her shoulders. “You brute!” She yelled as she smacked his arm. “I have told you a thousand times to cease your sneaking!” But she laughed on the last word, betraying her happiness to see her younger brother.

Oberyn was just as dashing as he had always been, just as confident. And just as unattainable. He was more than a handful of years older than her and as much as his reputation preceded him, was very picky on whom he lathed attention.

She was too young for him. He has said so himself not a year ago at their last meeting when Y/N had all but thrown herself at him, too into her cups to stop herself.

“You have so much life ahead of you. I would not dare think I was worthy of usurping your time when you have the world at your feet.”

It was a gentle rejection, but a rejection all the same. He was a good man, leagues far and away from the men who would jump at a chance to bed a young highborn girl or take her to wife. But that did not mean her heart did not clench every time he smiled at her or whispered a joke in her ear at the expense of the tourney knights or an unrepentant letch of a lord who caught his eye between jousts. He told them of his adventures with the Second Sons and how he founded his own sellsword company, too, after he grew tired of the politics within the Sons’ hierarchy while Elia and Y/N told him of the ‘excitement’ of the tourney and the actual excitement of the appearance and disappearance of the Knight of the Laughing Tree just the day past. King Aerys, raging and paranoid, had even sent Rhaegar to find the mystery knight and unmask him but the dragon prince came up emptyhanded.

“And I see little Lord Willas is here,” Oberyn said, dipping his head just so to indicate the box opposite them, across the jousting grounds. Willas was sitting at his father’s side, the shining wood of his cane visible even from a distance as it leaned against the seat beside him.

It was only Y/N’s third day in the kingdom when she attended the tourney when the accident happened. She knew Willas to be too young to truly be participating, he was only a few years older than Y/N, but Lord Mace Tyrell had pushed him. When Oberyn met him on the field, it was an accident. A tragic accident. Willas’ leg was crushed beneath his horse and Oberyn had been mortified, sending the Dornish healers he’d brought with him to the tourney to care for the young lord.

But the damage had been done.

Willa’s leg was in constant need of a brace and he walked with a cane. The Tyrells blamed Oberyn for crippling their heir. Well, most of them did. Willas bore no ill-will toward Oberyn and was often seeking him out when they were both present. “I am not sure if it is to spite his father or to truly try to mend the divisions between Dorne and The Reach all on his own.”

“I believe he seeks out your attentions because he enjoys you as much I do, my prince. Willas is not the sort to have ulterior motives when it comes to his companions or friends. If he did, I assume he would tolerate our dear Rhaegar’s presence a bit more,” Y/N mused as she half-heartedly clapped for the nameless, faceless victor of that round. She had stopped paying attention ages ago.

Oberyn huffed at that and turned to look at Willas and he caught the lord’s eye.

Willas raised his hand in greeting, a soft smile on his face—until Mace grabbed his wrist and all but shoved his son’s hand back down.

Y/N did not stop the laugh that bubbled out of her throat, even as Elia nudged her.

“He does blush such a pretty pink,” Oberyn mused, earning himself a nudge from Elia, too. “Do you think he will finally ask you to dance tonight, little shark?” He winked with the well-worn nickname, stemming from her house’s sigil of a large, white shark.

Y/N quickly turned in her seat to stare at Elia who looked away, a sly smile on her face. “Please tell me you did not speak to your brother about Willas.”

“I have no idea what you are insinuating, dear heart.”

“Willas is a good man, little shark. But you will have to contend with his family if you finally allow him to court you.” Oberyn patted her knee. “You will need every bit of your Skilligan strength to stop yourself from killing them.”

“Hush, Oberyn. They are not all terrible.”

“You, dear sister, are the soon-to-be Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms. It would be improper to think of you as anything other than the Realm’s Sun.” Oberyn smiled as Elia rolled her eyes. “I am the man who crippled their heir.”

“Willas does not believe it was your fault. We just need for Mace Tyrell to die and Dorne and The Reach will once again be fair weather allies. Olenna and Alerie are much more agreeable.”

“I could help,” Lewyn said as he stepped back into the box, carrying a sleeping Rhaenys. The two had slipped away from the festivities when the little princess complained of a headache and her great-uncle had been happy to shepherd her away for some rest in the shade and a bit of juice. Elia easily took her daughter into her arms and let her continue to sleep against her chest.

“A kind offer, uncle. But Oberyn is simply continuing to be the most dramatic of Martells.”

Lewyn reached forward and bopped his nephew on the head with a smirk. “I know.”

The day gave way to night and they were once again shuffled off to the Great Hall of Harrenhal for the night’s feast and dancing. Ashara Dayne, Arthur’s sister and another companion to Elia, joined them at their table, looking a little flustered as her pretty purple eyes kept jumping toward a table near the door where a small grouping of Northmen were seated.

“Which one has caught your eye?” Y/N whispered to her, trying to figure out which solemn-faced man captured her attention. Ashara was a romantic, always singing love songs to Rhaenys before her afternoon naps. She was kind-hearted and sweet, if not a little shy. Y/N enjoyed her company and how she cared for Elia. That was all that truly mattered anyway.

“The quiet one,” Ashara murmured.

“They are all quiet,” Elia said in return, also trying to figure out which one Ashara was speaking about. “Except for that she-wolf. She seems fond of making noise. I heard she thoroughly beat a handful of men for attacking that little Crannogman.”

“And then the Knight of the Laughing Tree beat them again at the joust,” Y/N muttered, thinking aloud. “Curious.” She turned to Elia. “Tell me, was the she-wolf in her box when that knight took his turns at the joust?”

Elia looked at her with a frown. “What are you implying, dear heart?”

“I do not know,” Y/N said with a shrug but then her eyes narrowed on one of the Starks at the table and poked Ashara. “That one? With the dour expression?”

“He is not dour.” It was nearly a pout. “He is just…quiet.”

Elia hummed and nodded. “Hm. Yes. The Quiet Wolf. I believe his name is Eddard. His brothers call him Ned. Is that right?”

Ashara’s cheeks bloomed with color and she looked away. “Yes, his name is Ned.”

Elia and Y/N teased their friend a little longer before the night’s festivities started and the people splintered off for dancing or singing or drinking contests—Robert Baratheon was the current champion of that impromptu tourney. Elia wanted to listen to music and had Y/N and Ashara move with her to one of the smaller chambers where they could hear someone plucking at a harp’s strings.

What they saw when they arrived was not entirely welcome.

Rhaegar was sitting on a bench, his familiar harp across his lap, and the she-wolf beside him with tears in her eyes as he sang a sad song they had all heard hundreds of times. (It was not as if he could write songs himself.) The young girl was clearly besotted with the prince.

“Princess,” Ashara murmured, turning toward Elia, trying to shield her from the sight. “I do believe Arthur is in the next room over. You promised him a dance, did you not?”

Y/N watched Elia straighten her shoulders and press a practiced smile to her face. “Yes, I believe I did. I could definitely benefit from a bit of revelry anyway.”

And one dance turned into two and then three as Arthur coaxed smiles from Elia that had Y/N releasing a breath she did not know she was holding.

She could kill Rhaegar, should kill him. She didn’t care if she was sent to the Black Cells for the rest of her life or if her head wound up on a spike—if it meant Elia was free. Free to love her babies without reproach for not looking Valyrian. Free to love whom she pleased (probably Arthur). Free to laugh and smile and dance. Free.

That was all Y/N wanted for her friend.

She watched the quiet wolf’s brother, Brandon she thought his name was, approach Ashara and point out Eddard who seemed to be trying to hide behind his tankard of ale with a vibrant blush on his cheeks. Ashara quickly made sure that Y/N was fine on her own before letting the elder Stark wave his brother over and they slowly, adorably started to dance. She watched from for a while and then spotted Elia now dancing with Lewyn with a sleepy Rhaenys balanced on her hip, too.

A quiet, rhythmic tapping of wood against stone caught her attention over the din of the music and she turned to see Willas stepping to stand at her side, a small smile on his face. “My lady,” he said with a tip of his head.

“My lord,” she replied with a smile of her own and a small curtsey. “It is good to see you again. Dragonstone and King’s Landing are far less agreeable since you were called back to Highgarden.”

Willas smiled, tucking his chin a bit. “I would prefer to be at your side, even if it is in that snake pit.” Y/N patted the seat beside her but he shook his head and held out a hand toward her. She didn’t comment on how his fingers shook. “I cannot dance, not truly, anyway. But I would be honored if you allowed me the honor of spending the next song with you.”

The smile that crept across her face could not be stopped and she quickly placed her hand in his and stood as the last beats of the song started. They took their position toward the edge of the floor, trying to keep to themselves as the next song started. And it was true, they could not truly dance. His leg could not accommodate the stomps and hard turns the song called for—but it was okay, because she had not taken the time to memorize the steps anyway. Instead, they swayed in time with the beat, taking an occasional turn to step to the side, ignoring how some onlookers clicked their tongues or whispered behind their hands about how ridiculous they might look.

“Tell me, how is Highgarden?”

“It is just as lovely as I have said before. My father is insisting on building a new aviary for my next nameday.”

“I assume this is because you mentioned once that you wanted to take up hawking? Hm?” She asked with another grin.

“He wants, so desperately, for me to be some sort of great man. Fit for song and legend. I think I will only continue to disappoint him.”

Y/N stopped her uneven swaying and simply squeezed his hands. “You are not a disappointment, Willas. You are the most intelligent man I have met and you are a capable man—capable of ruling HIghgharden in a way worthy of song. You do not need to be a warrior for that. I do believe that the world needs more smart, kind men. Like you.”

Willas sighed and shook his head. “You are too kind, my lady. But I do doubt that my father will be convinced of your reasoning.”

“Well, perhaps it is better that you are your grandmother’s favorite instead of your father’s. Your mind can and should be your greatest asset, Willas. It is one of the things I admire most about you.”

He finally looked up at her, another shy smile on his lips. “You admire me?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

His pale cheeks flooded with color and he nearly stumbled on the next step but quickly righted himself but stopped moving, holding her hands just a bit tighter. “My lady, I… Y/N…I was hoping if you would give me the honor of-”

Y/N nearly fell as someone collided with her back and Willas’s cane slapped to the floor in a clatter, gaining too much attention for Willas to continue.

Y/N turned to see some Northern lord—Roose Bolton, if she remembered correctly—sneering at her and Willas.

“Careful, my lady.” His voice was low and deep and might have been soothing to listen to if his pallid and angular face did not betray the complete lack of soul beneath his skin. She had only one other interaction with him and it had been on the tourney fields just before the first joust and he had been sneering with a few of his bannermen about how the Dornish knights must be tiny men with how small their horses seemed. (Of course, the Dornish Sand Steeds were smaller, but they were also faster and more durable than the horses these Northern lords were so fond of and could outlast them for days. Y/N had laughed heartily when Roose had been unseated by a Dornish knight not yet past his five-and-ten nameday.)

Willas huffed as Roose walked away and shook his head. “I will never understand that man. But if he was half as handsome as he was clever, the Realm would be in peril. I do not trust him.”

“I cannot say I enjoy his presence either.” She brushed away her discomfort and turned back to Willas, trying to press a smile onto her lips. “But what were you saying?”

Willas opened his mouth and was quickly interrupted again by Ashara, who did look apologetic to her credit, tugging at her sleeve. “Princess Elia requires our presence, my lady.”

She turned back to see Willas sigh before he nodded once. Before Y/N could excuse herself, he grasped her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I will find you again, my lady. Please enjoy the rest of your night.”

Y/N squeezed his hand before letting it drop back down to her side. She wished him well with her heart a little heavier in her chest, and let Ashara lead her back toward Elia who was standing with Lewyn and Oberyn and clutching a sleeping Rhaenys to her chest. But that was not what bothered her. No. It was the tears in Elia’s eyes and how Oberyn seemed ready to run his sword through anyone who looked at him incorrectly. “What is it? What has happened?”

Oberyn turned to her, teeth bared in a snarl. “The Mad King has once again let his thoughts be known that Rhaenys is too Dornish for his tastes.”

“She woke from a nightmare and I took her to her mother,” Lewyn explained. His large hand was pressing against Rhaenys’ back and Elia’s hands, a warm grounding force. “His Grace was nearby and little Rhaenys waved at him—she knows him as her grandfather.”

“Of course she does. Rhaenys’ heart is much too big.”

“And he turned his lip up at her and called her a…” Elia sniffled and held her daughter tighter. “A burnt leaf on the Targaryen tree. He said the only reason he knew she was his son’s daughter was the bit of silver hair she had.”

“How cruel!” Y/N exclaimed before turning to Lewyn. “Tell me no one heard him. Tell me that king of yours did not say this in front of anyone but you.”

And Lewyn’s answering silence was heartbreaking. He only continued to hold Elia and Rhaenys a little closer, a shallow consolation.

“The room was filled with people. Even the prince was there—he said nothing to stop his father’s tirade. Against his own daughter!” Oberyn was raging.

“Did Rhaenys know what he was saying?”

Elia shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “No. She only thinks the best in people, my little sunshine. She was happy to be called a leaf.”

Y/N sighed and stepped forward to wipe the tear from her friend’s cheek and press a kiss to the sleeping child’s head. “The old man’s time is coming. I promise you that.”

“Y/N!” Ashara hissed. “You cannot say such things.”

“I will say such things when he says such things. Damn my uncle’s trade agreement. Damn it all. I will kill a king. I will do it.”

“No, no, dear heart. I cannot ask that of you—nor you, Oberyn,” Elia said, watery eyes cutting toward her brother. “I need you both at my side to handle whatever comes next.”

What came next, however, was Rhaegar winning the jousting tourney, with Elia’s favor hanging on the handle of his lance. There was a stupid tradition of the victor crowning a woman the ‘Queen of Love and Beauty’ and giving them a crown of blue roses. Y/N expected for Rhaegar to place the small bunch of flowers on Elia’s lap and be done with it.

But no.

The silver-haired prat rode right by his wife and laid the wreath in the lap of the she-wolf, Lyanna Stark.

All the smiles died.

Elia grasped Y/N’s wrist as she moved to stand, keeping her seated. “Your anger is appreciated. But I would not have more eyes on me for my husband’s indiscretions.”

It did nothing to quell the rage she felt burning in her throat. But she could be quiet. “I have Sweetsleep in my bag.”

“Y/N,” Elia snorted and shook her head. “No.”

“You’re right. Tears of Lys would be a better suit for his crimes against you.”

Elia finally uncurled her fingers only to tangle them with her friend’s as she managed a small smile. “You make me smile. Even when my heart is full of sorrow.”

Y/N’s kissed her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You deserve to smile, Princess. I will gladly play the fool if it makes you happy.”

Elia nodded and patted her hand. “I know, dear heart. I know it very well. But I…” the words died on her tongue as she turned to look around the box and found it lacking… “Oberyn.”

But Oberyn was already gone.

“Find him,” Elia whispered in a rush. “Before he does something rash. Stop him.”

Y/N instantly shot to her feet and darted out of the box in search of the Dornish prince. Luckily, it did not take long for her to find him, he was only a few paces away with his spear in hand.

She reached out and grabbed Oberyn’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “You cannot, my prince.”

“He has dishonored my sister in front of the entire kingdom. You cannot think to stop me from taking vengeance.”

“Elia said no. Would you hurt her further? You would be caught and executed and she and little Rhaenys would be as well. You know the Mad King’s wrath knows no bounds.”

Oberyn’s shoulders slumped but his teeth remained bared. “You are both too kind.”

“I offered to put Tears of Lys in his wine. I am not kind. But I would not make Elia suffer more than she already has.” She paused and watched Oberyn nod, appeased—for now. “Come, let us try to make our princess smile, hm?” Oberyn was breathing hard and Y/N pressed her hands against his chest, trying to help him breathe a little easier. “Calm—for now, at least, my prince. Breathe with me.”

He nodded and pulled in a few deep breaths through his nose and his grip on his spear loosened just a fraction. Oberyn leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Despite what you think of yourself, you are gentle hearted, little shark.”

“I know I am the worst sort of woman to have at your sister’s side, apparently. Always ready to murder if it would make her smile. Hardly well-mannered, too.”

“On the contrary, little shark. You are the best friend I could ever hope for her to have.”

The road back to Dragonstone was quiet, thankfully. Rhaegar had ridden ahead of their wheelhouse, not looking at his wife for longer than a few moments and kissed Rhaenys on her head before he set off.

It was for the best, probably. Y/N was not sure she could have stopped herself from murdering him if the opportunity presented itself—and it was always so easy for ‘bandits’ to attack a travelling party.

Oberyn was only able to accompany them so far before he had to divert his path—he had been called back to the sellsword he founded to deal with a contract dispute.

“I do not have to go,” Y/N heard him whisper to Elia the night before he left. “I can stay with you, Rhaenys, the baby. I can stay at your side.”

“I will be fine, Oberyn. I can handle this.”

“I know you can. But I don’t want you to do it on your own.”

“I’m not on my own.”

The wheelhouse hit a bump and Y/N made sure the sleeping princess on her lap didn’t jostle too much. It seemed that Rhaenys could sleep through almost anything. Even if her dreams were becoming increasingly erratic. The last night of the tourney, just a handful of hours after her father crowned a woman who was not her mother, Rhaenys had woken up in tears, babbling about dragons and fire and clouds of snow that never stopped. Elia had hummed her old lullaby until her daughter fell asleep again and it broke Y/N’s heart.

The two women she loved most in the world were hurting and there was nothing she could do about it.

“You’re good with her,” Elia said, a hand over her stomach. “And she adores you.”

Y/N smiled and curled her finger around the errant strand of silver again. “I adore her. I can only hope that if I ever have children, they are half as well behaved as her. She is wonderful, Elia. Your little sunshine.”

Elia smiled and drummed her fingers against her stomach. “I can only hope that this one is less troublesome as they come into the world.”

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

“I know, dear heart.”

And Y/N silently said a prayer to her gods—and then said another to the Seven that Elia was fond of, too—hoping for the best. Wishing for good health for Elia and her babe.

But her prayers were not answered.

Elia’s sickness continued and lingered as her pregnancy progressed and then King Aerys demanded Elia give birth within the ‘safe haven’ of the Red Keep in King’s Landing. He did not care that travel was not advisable in her condition. He did not care that Rhaenys was not sleeping well lately.

The Mad King cared for nothing and no one aside from himself. It was glaringly apparent.

It was just another reason for Y/N to hate these stupid Seven Kingdoms. She missed Skilliga. She missed how she could hear the ocean from every room in her family’s home, a massive, sprawling fortress carved into the steep rock face of the fractured islands—just like every other castle and fortress in their kingdom. She missed how clean the air was in her kingdom—smelling sea salt and fog. King’s Landing smelled of piss and moldy bread. Dragonstone was not home, not really, but it was far better than the city—and she feared far less for her friend there than she did at the capitol.

But she kept her mouth shut and held Elia’s hand as little Aegon came screaming into the world with a few strands of silver hair already crowning his head. But Elia was even more delicate after the birth, frequently needing to rest and seeking the guiding hand of healers who supplied her with calming teas and cooling balms. Y/N felt the exhaustion and relief rolling off her friend in waves as Aerys proudly presented his grandson to court, proclaiming him the heir to the stupid pointy chair. All of this made no sense to Y/N. Rhaenys was born first—did it truly matter that she was a girl? Women were set to inherit just as much as men in Skilliga—it simply mattered who was born first.

Oberyn had proudly told her that it was the same custom in Dorne—but the other six kingdoms in Westeros did not follow those rules.

And while the court celebrated the birth of another heir, Rhaegar took it upon himself to remind his wife that, “the dragon must have three heads,” before he kissed Elia’s brow and set off toward the vast library—again.

Arthur, however, hovered between dutifully following his prince and friend and staying at Elia’s side. The rigidity in her posture let those who knew her best know she was close to tears even though her smile had not moved from her face as she watched Queen Rhaella happily parade her grandson around the throne room, letting her ladies maids ooh-and-ahh over the new prince.

“Go, Arthur,” Elia eventually murmured. “I know he needs you.”

The famed knight’s shoulders dropped just a fraction before he bowed the slightest bit, excusing himself and walked away.

But Y/N was not done, feeling something bubbling her gut as she watched him near the door and she slipped away and pulled him to a stop.

“My lady?” Arthur said, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked at her hand on his arm.

“Ser Arthur, if you love her, as I know you do, protect her. Do right by her, by her beautiful children. Try to make Rhaegar see reason. See that his wife is good and gentle and all he needs.”

Arthur, proud, sweet Arthur, nearly crumpled at that and he nodded—just once—before turning and walking away.

“What did you say to him?”

Y/N turned at the sound of the small voice to see Prince Viserys looking up at her with hard, lilac-colored eyes. It must have been a miracle for him to escape the ever-present Septa and guard at his side—Aerys and Rhaella seemed to be hellbent on protecting their second son from some unseen threat. “I told him to make sure your brother stays out of trouble, princeling.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t think that matters. Your mother will be looking for you.”

His thin lips pulled into an even thinner line but he nodded and walked away.

Apparently the Targaryen family was filled with presumptuous little pigeons. Truly, the only ones Y/N truly liked were Rhaenys (who was more of a Martell anyway) and Rhaella (whom she rarely saw as she was constantly nursing healing bruises and cuts from her husband’s ‘attentions’.) And she was sure Aegon would take after his mother too, making him another one of the few the Seven Kingdoms did not deserve. But Y/N pushed that thought out of her mind as she discovered Elia, still cradling Aegon, weeping in her chambers that night. A bit of parchment was set beside her on her undone featherbed and Y/N hurriedly tried to stop her tears, to know why her dearest friend was crying, but Elia only pointed a finger at the parchment and silently told Y/N to read it.

The seal of a snarling wolf was stamped on it with a wax seal and she could already feel herself growing angry.

The missive was short. But it said enough. It was from the she-wolf, Lyanna Stark. She was responding to the raven Rhaegar must have sent earlier—stating that she would meet him in the Riverlands in just a few moons’ time and that she was excited to be at his side, and away from her oaf of a betrothed, Robert Baratheon.

Y/N crumpled the note and threw it into the roaring hearth.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Elia sniffled and shook her head. “You cannot. I will not have my babies grow up without a father.”

“And I cannot have him shame you so. You deserve more than this pompous little lizard can give you—crown prince or not.”

Aegon fussed in his mother’s arms but quieted as Elia pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Rhaegar told me that he must have three. The prophecy he’s been obsessed with since he was a boy demands it, he believes. Something about the prince who was promised.” Aegon’s little hand reached up toward his mother and Elia caught it, letting his fingers wrap around her as she kissed his thumb with a watery smile. “The wolf girl—she will sate Rhaegar’s need for a third baby.”

“This prophecy he believes in is madness,” she hissed. “I will not allow him to treat you like this-”

“It is done, dear heart. He has made his decision.”

“Have you made yours?”

“What choice do I have?” Elia asked with a mirthless laugh. “He is the crown prince and I am-”

“A princess of Dorne. Mother of his two children.”

Elia waved her hand and looked down at her son. “All I want in this world is for my children to be happy.” She sighed, shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. “It is not the wolf girl’s fault. Rhaegar can be very persuasive. I hold no ill will toward her.”

“And toward Rhaegar?”

Elia’s beautiful eyes cut to her before falling down to her lap. She did not answer.

“The offer still stands for me to kill him, you know.”

“I know, dear heart. And I thank you for it. But I need you by my side. I know the times ahead will be turbulent. The Realm has not had a king with more than one queen since Maegor the Cruel.”

“He means to marry her?” Y/N hissed. The anger she felt bubbling grew hotter as Elia nodded and wiped at her cheeks.

“We shall both be his queens, I suppose.” Elia paused and sniffled once more. “I could love the child she bears Rhaegar as my own.”

And that took the wind from Y/N’s sails in an instant. Plans for a slow murder evaporate and she crossed the room to sit at Elia’s side, her hands coming up to rest on her friend’s shoulders, mindful of the babe in her arms. “Your heart was always too big,” Y/N said. “And I shall be at your side until the end of my days.”

Dragonstone was a welcome reprieve from King’s Landing. She could truly smell the sea again, leeching a bit of the tension from her shoulders. It was even more of a respite when Rhaegar left (again). He had been playing his stupid harp and looking even more melancholy than usual before he kissed Rhaenys and Aegon on their little heads and bit Elia farewell.

Y/N knew what he was setting off to do—the little She-Wolf waited for him.

And she also knew that Arthur had finally confessed his repressed feelings for Elia and had gently kissed her under rising sun before he was called away by an unsuspecting and unknowing Rhaegar who waited for his trusted friend at the gates of the castle. She had spied it from her chamber window and had not told Elia what she had witnessed, only noting that she was fond of smiling that day. The smiles continued as Elia received ravens from Oberyn and Willas, filled with words of congratulations for her new babe and well wishes for her and her growing family. “And Oberyn wants you to know that you are not allowed to be Aegon’s favorite as you are Rhaenys’—he has deemed it selfish and he will challenge you to a duel if it seems that Aegon prefers your company to his when he visits next.” Elia laughed and showed her the slip of parchment with Oberyn’s flourishing handwriting.

“And Willas wishes for me to give you his best, and hopes that you remember your dance at the tourney as fondly as he does.” Y/N tried to pull the parchment from Elia’s fingers but it was jerked away at the last moment as Elia laughed. “Oh no, dear heart. I am going to keep this to read when you have babies of your own our dear little Willas!”

But the smiles would not last.

It started as whispers than grew to a scream. Lyanna Stark had disappeared with Rhaegar Targaryen. Was she kidnapped? Had she gone willingly? Elia had tried to dissuade the Stormlands from taking up arms against the crown, led by a ‘hurt’ Robert Baratheon, but Y/N surmised that the ravens the princess had sent had gone unheeded. The Baratheons wanted blood and they would have it.

And that meant that the paranoia of the Mad King was now proving prophetic.

Aerys had killed two Starks and wanted the heads of the others who were leading the Northern infantry toward the Trident. He wanted Jon Arryn to send him the head of his former ward, Robert Baratheon as a show of loyalty.

Arryn refused.

War raged.

Aerys called Elia back to the capitol.

“He is only doing this to make sure Dorne stays loyal,” Elia whispered to Y/N as they lay together in Elia’s bed as a storm raged outside. “But House Martell keeps its promises—there is no need for threats. No need to keep me and my babies as hostages.”

Tears slipped down Elia’s cheeks and Y/N gently wiped them away. “I will protect you, Elia. I promise you that.”

The sail of the ship was emblazoned with the sigil of House Redwyne—Willas’ grandmother’s house. The stupid burgundy grapes on blue cloth had never been a more beautiful or welcome sight.

Willas.

Her dear, sweet Willas had heeded her call. And now it was time for Y/N keep her loved ones safe. She had a sleeping Rhaenys (and tiny Balerion) in her arms and Elia had a fussing Aegon in hers as they slipped from Elia’s rooms and took the servants’ stairs down to the courtyard and toward the seldom-used docks on the north side of the fortress as thunder rolled overhead with a coming storm. The stone steps had weathered away and the wooden ladder down to the dock had been washed away ages ago. Y/N had to hand Rhaenys to her mother for a moment before she jumped down to the dock and took the sleeping girl back into her arms.

The Redwyne ship was nearly there. Their sails had been pulled down, letting them look like unmarked and unnoticeable trade ships.

“Princess Elia?” A voice boomed in the dark.

Elia looked back toward the castle and then down at Aegon, her grip tightening. Rhaenys stirred in Y/N’s arms and opened her eyes, little brow furrowing at the commotion around her. Y/N carefully set her down on the dock, holding her hand tightly before turning back to Elia.

“You can make it, Elia. Just jump. I will catch you!”

Another shout of her name had Elia looking backward.

“Elia!” She hissed. “We must go!” It would only be a matter of time before someone discovered the three bodies Y/N had dropped to clear the way for the little family. They never saw her or her hidden blades coming in the dark.

But Elia was frozen and the shouts of her name grew louder. Slowly, so slowly, Elia’s head turned and with a flash of lightning, Y/N saw what she was looking at: a fleet of ships blazoned with the three-headed Targaryen sigil headed toward the eastern dock.

They had come.

Elia turned, still clutching Aegon to her chest. She kissed him once more before pressing him down into Y/N’s arms. “Go. Go now before they catch you. Protect my babies.”

“We can make it! Elia, please-”

“Mama!” Rhaenys cried. “Mama!”

“Go, my sunshine. Remember, I will always love you.”

Y/N looked out to see the ships were docked and a small army had come to take Elia and her children away to King’s Landing.

“Princess Elia, you have been commanded by King Aerys to present yourself and your children in court immediately.”

She had to go.

Her choice had been made.

The Redwyne sailors were accommodating to the two crying babes and frazzled, foreign woman on their decks as they sailed toward Skilliga. They made sure they were settled in the captain’s quarters and left them with a bit of water and berries before mentioning that, “Lord Willas hopes you will write to him when we arrive at Skilliga.”

The captain had the good grace to look a bit ashamed before excusing himself.

“Where’s Mama?” Rhaenys asked as she snuggled down into the well-worn blankets of the small bed.

“She is…visiting your grandfather.” The words were bitter on her tongue and she pulled the blankets a little higher to Rhaenys’ chin and kissed her hair. “Get some sleep, sunshine.”

“What about Aegon?” Rhaenys asked, eyes fighting to close.

“I will make sure he gets some sleep, too.”

Content with that answer, Rhaenys nodded and finally let her eyes fully close. And after checking on the little prince, tucked away in a bassinet made of a half barrel and a mound of blankets—a far cry from the golden crib he had at Dragonstone, she let herself cry.

Rhaenys was fond of how her voice echoed in the halls of her temporary home. She would laugh and sing and talk and just listen to it echo as little Balerion circled between her feet. And that gave Y/N a small bit of joy, to know that Rhaenys was still able to smile—even if she asked for her mother every time she work and every time she was tucked into bed. Even if the little princess still screamed with terrible dreams filled with fire and ice almost every night.

Aegon was a happy baby, content to be in Y/N’s arms and babble at the dolphins and sharks he could see from the fortress’ windows.

It was good to be home. Truly, it was. The sound of the sea and the scent of its salt were a balm to her fraying nerves but it was lacking something now—lacking Elia.

Every night, Y/N would pray to each and every god and goddess she could think of to keep Elia safe. To let her come back to her babies. To live the life she wanted to when this rebellion was over.

Every night.

But, again, her prayers were unanswered.

Hammond slipped into her room before the sun rose nearly a year since their escape from Dragonstone and gently woke her by rubbing at her shoulder, like he had done thousands of times before. He had been her father, her only parent, since her parents died of a simple sickness when she was twelve. And now, it seemed, it fell to him to be that parent again.

“I have to tell you something, Y/N. I am so sorry.”

The words rang in her head, echoing over and over again as he continued to tell her what had happened in Westeros. News had reached their little kingdom that Aerys was dead. Rhaegar had been beaten and killed at the Trident. Robert was King. And Elia had been murdered.

“A-are you certain?” She asked, the words strangling the breath from her lungs. “Surely it cannot be-”

“They said the Lannister men presented her body to Robert, rolled in a red curtain.”

A sob wrenched its way out of her throat as she crumpled back into her blankets. Gone. She was gone.

Her uncle let her cry for a moment, sitting on the edge of her bed like a stalwart guard until she caught her breath.

“But there is some strange news, too. It seems the Lannister men thought they needed to prove the Targaryens were dead. Two little bodies were presented to the Usurper too. They claimed they were little Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“What? What? I-”

“Only you, it seems, knew that Elia had come to the capitol alone. They must’ve killed a poor kitchen maid’s children, thinking they were the prince and princess.” His roughened hand gently wiped at her cheeks. “I sent you to that wretched kingdom in hopes that we could strengthen our alliance, grow our fortunes. I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

And Y/N could only cry.

It was only a handful of moons later that a servant came into Y/N’s rooms and announced that a strange man had demanded Y/N meet him on the small island off the shore of her family’s fortress, the only island outsiders could land on safely.

Y/N knew it was stupid to go. Knew it was stupid to kiss Rhaenys and Aegon on the crowns of their head as a nurse Y/N had hired watched them. Knew it was stupid to take the small boat she had carved when she was only eight out to the island by herself. But she did it anyway. She needed it.

On the little island, a small patch of tall, green grass surrounded by soft sand and sharp rock, stood a man she thought had died.

Arthur was standing there, his white KIngsguard cloak long gone and the armor missing as he held a small bundle in his grasp. And he was bleeding. Bleeding bleeding bleeding. But he trudged forward and pressed the small bundle into her arms and then he nearly collapsed to his knees at her feet.

“It is finished.”

She looked down at the bundle and gasped. A baby—there was another baby.

“What? Arthur? What is this? Who?”

“Rhaegar wanted to name him Vaemond. But Lady Lyanna…she kept calling the babe Jon before she even brought him into this wretched world.”

This was Lyanna’s baby. The baby Elia said she would love as her own. And so now, she must, too. Y/N huffed and the babe in her arms squirmed, full lips pulled into a pout. “Then Jon he will be.” Rhaegar had done enough damage to his children. “Where is Lyanna?”

“Dead. The childbed took her.” The words were punched out of him and his unfocused eyes looked at the babe in her arms. “You’ll care for him, won’t you? He’s innocent in all of this.”

“So was Elia. So are Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“So it is true then?” The hopeful gleam in his eye made her chest lurch. “You have her children? They’re safe? I thought it was just rumor that Elia had been alone when she arrived in King’s Landing. I thought she would never leave her babies…”

“She only left them to keep them safe. And, for now, they are safe.”

Arthur was quiet as Y/N looked down at the baby in her arms. Jon’s pudgy little arms reached out toward her and she adjusted her hold to let him wrap his hand around one of her fingers. And she was lost. He was a precious little one. Another babe for her to care for.

Arthur suddenly fell to his knees and Y/N hurried to try to keep him upright while still keeping little Jon comfortable. But Arthur pushed her hands away, leaving blood on her skin from where he had touched her so briefly. “Will she forgive me? When I see her…will she forgive me for helping her husband in this stupid fight for prophecy?” His purple eyes filled with tears and they slipped down his dirty cheeks.

Y/N did not need to ask who he was asking about. She knew. “Elia forgave you the moment it happened.”

Arthur nodded and hung his head. He was finished. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Rest, Arthur. You have earned it.” She placed her hand against his head, the closest she could be to him in the moment and, in the next few breaths, he was gone. His body slumped to the soft grass.

Y/N sighed and held Jon a little closer. Another one…another person she had considered a friend had been taken and she was alone again. And, she promised herself then. This would be the last time she cried. This would be the last time she lost someone.

This would be the last time.

AND ANOTHER BANNER BY MY BABY MARS @thesadvampire

A/N: Please let me know what you think. This is a bit of a slower burn so I hope you guys don’t lose interest. :) thanks for reading!

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #willas tyrell x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf #oberyn martell #willas tyrell

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

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Waking Up Confused in Both Hotel Rooms and Forests [Jay Merrick X F!Reader X Masky/Tim Wright]

[Jay Merrick X F!Reader X (kinda) Masky]

[Warnings: firearms, slight language, slight blood]

[AN: I originally had Masky in the spotlight but couldn't like, directly fit him in like that. Also big thanks to Entry 32 and slight Entry 76.]

You could hardly breathe as you ran further and further through the trees. Panic seeped through your veins. Your only guiding light was the light of the moon. You weren’t supposed to be here - why the hell did you agree to begin with? You had no time to regret your actions as you continued to run. Where was Jay? Was he okay? No time to think of that either, Alex was catching up. But you had to find him. You just had to.

A few weeks ago, you woke up in a hotel. You had no recollection of even leaving your apartment. Strange, very strange. Confused, and unsure of how you even got there, you attempted to leave and get back to your life only to find you were hopelessly lost with practically nothing to support yourself. All you could do was remain.

The first few days were awkward. You managed to find some food and stock up the minifridge but other than that, your days were a little lonely, and mostly confusing. The longer you stayed, the hazier your memories and thoughts became. What have you been doing for the past year? Huge chunks of time, gone in an instant. Where even were you? None of your questions were answered and the days began to blur together.

Things only grew more confusing when you were given a neighbor. You had woken up, decided to get some fresh air and passed by a man wielding a camera in the hallway. Your eyes had quickly scanned over his features - it almost felt alien to look at another person. The entire time you’d been at this odd hotel, you hadn’t seen a single soul here but yourself. And it went on like that for a few days, just passing by each other in the hallways, politely nodding, sometimes saying hello, but nothing further. It didn’t take long for you to realize your rooms were conjoined - the only conjoined rooms in the hotel. Strange, how strange.

Feeling bold, you plucked up your courage to speak with him, albeit awkwardly.

“What’s the camera for?” You asked, a small smile on your face to set him at ease.

The man shifted a little uncomfortably but smiled back. “A documentary on, uh, hotels. Y’know?” He said in a more than awkward tone. He shifted slightly after a painfully pregnant pause took place. “I’m Jay and you-”

“Oh! I’m Reader,” you answered back, more than caught off guard he asked you a question. “I’ll see you around?” You said in a slightly unsure tone.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

And the two of you parted ways.

That’s certainly not the last you’d ever seen of Jay though. If it had been, you wouldn’t be running from a maniac with a gun at this moment.

You and Jay continued to cross paths, awkwardly saying hi, sometimes commenting on the weather until you had finally reached a head. The previous day, you’d tried to prod him to see if he had any inkling as to what was going on when he sloughed it off as if your concerns meant nothing. Deep down, you knew he was going through the same mess as you. Frustrated, confused, you got up in the middle of the night to interrogate Jay. You lept out, slipped on your shoes, and knocked on his door. Immediately, you were greeted to his camera.

“Can I uh, ask you something?” You began, eyes dark and desolate due to the haze that swarmed in your mind.

“Sure?” Jay sounded confused. His eyes darted down to the camera and back up to you as you scratched at the back of your neck.

“Why… Why did you answer the door with a camera?” A slight frustration began to come to your tone.

“Well, I mean, I had it in my hand already-”

“Look, Jay,” you said in an increasingly exasperated tone. “I know you’re lying. First you tell me some stupid thing about a hotel documentary and then you tell me your house is being renovated, but then! But then you tell me your job was being relocated. What is going on?” You questioned, voice strained and harsh.

“It’s- It’s complicated I-”

“You’re not acting like a normal person-”

“W-What’s it matter to you? You’re just some stranger,” he tried to shake off. He looked at you like you were crazy, but his eyes conveyed something deeper.

“I think… I think something is going on,” you said, brows now furrowed together. “I know something is going on,” you took a pause and breathed in deeply. “I don’t know how I got here. You’re the only person I’ve seen in this hotel other than the staff and we have adjoining rooms. I don’t even know you. You said it yourself! I’m a stranger! Haven’t had any kind of memory loss at all?” You raise your hands and dragged your fingers across your scalp. “I-I think I’m going crazy,” you said with a small laugh, unsure of what could be considered real and what couldn’t. “Jay, I’m losing HUGE chunks of time. I’m having pounding headaches and coughing fits and I can’t even sleep, but when I do sleep, I feel like I’m still moving, like I’m sleepwalking.” You were pretty much shouting at this point and allowed all your anger, frustration and fear to bubble over.

“Reader-”

“And the worst part? I keep having these dreams back when I was a kid and I feel like something’s watching me-”

“Stop,” Jay sighed, his hand reaching out to hold your shoulder. “Let’s… Get your shit together. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, I just need to get some of my own things together.”

You nodded with shot nerves and let him go as you went off to your room, quickly getting everything together. From your room, you could what Jay rummaging around in a safe. What a mess everything had become. With a heavy heart still rife with confusion, you had begun to pack.

You never really completed packing, as the moment you touched the drawers, hands were wrapping around your face. A quick breath was all it took to black out.

Later, you woke up confused in the forest. Jay was by your side. Twilight had fallen over the land, you were unsure of how you got here, and all you knew is that you both had to get out. You were the one to wake up Jay, your hand nudging him.

“Where… Where are we?” He asked groggily, slowly sitting up before his hands pat at his chest. The camera was still attached.

“Was hoping you could tell me,” you mumbled, trying to make heads or tails of the place you were in. It looked like the two of you were laid in the middle of a burnt clearing.

“It’s a park, I think,” Jay said as he slowly began to stand up before helping you up as well. “We should make it back to the parking lot or something. Not safe to be here.”

“Not safe?”

Jay shook his head as he checked his pockets for his keys and nodded for you to follow him once he confirmed they were there. The two of you passed through the trees and greenery of all kinds before finally coming to an uneasy stretch of woods. Here, tunnels lined the sides of the paths, making your hair stand up. Every part of your body told you to run.

You did so and remained walking beside him in a tense silence before finally opening your mouth. “So, what were you gonna tell me back at the hotel?” You asked softly.

“I have some thoughts,” Jay began. “Like-”

Before he can say anything, a gun shot rang out, making you scream and jolt as Jay ducked, hand immediately gripping at your wrist.

“Don’t run, you coward!”

That voice sounded familiar, oh so familiar. When he stepped out from the dark recesses of the tunnel, you knew him. You felt it deep down inside, but you couldn’t but a name to his face - not even when the remaining sunlight stopped obscuring his eyes when the light glare subsided from his glasses. But how could you forget him? You knew him - you knew him.

“Let her go, Jay,” the man said as his eyes narrowed. The barrel of his gun was pointed directly at you two, barring you from running past him to get to the parking lot.

“Alex, please,” Jay said in a strained voice, refusing to let go of your wrist.

“No, you know what has to be done,” Alex growled as his steps got closer and closer to the two of you.

“Come on man, you know her,” Jay attempted to reason. “She was Amy’s roommate, you can’t hurt Amy like that.”

A pause.

“All the more reason to shoot you dead where you stand.”

“Alex please,” you whimpered, eyes looking at him with a light that pained him to even consider snuffing.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologized as his eyebrows furrowed. “It has to be done - there’s no other way. I have to stop it.” Alex sounded absolutely at war with himself as he continued closer and closer to the two of you. “I’m sorry, Reader. I’ve been sorry.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

The sun set; the park is bathed in darkness.

Before the trigger can get pulled, Jay momentarily let go of your wrist and punched Alex with all his might, sending the gun flying in one direction, and Alex careening to the floor.

“Stay down!” He shouted, moving to keep him on the floor.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, but you could hear something. Something growing closer and closer until it was practically on top of you. You let out a slight screech as a man in a tanned coat came zipping past you, shoving aside Jay (with an odd about of care) before pummeling Alex back into the earth.

“Stop staring and get the fuck out of here!” The man’s voice boomed as he continued to wrestle an invigorated Alex.

Jay reached for you again in the darkness, and you reached back. The two of you ran.

Somewhere in the confusion, you’d managed to get separated from Jay right around the time more gunshots rang out throughout the forest. You could almost hear Alex in the back of your head after they’d ripped through the silent night.

And that led to now. Running scared through the never ending, godsforsaken forest where static seemed to invade your head every other minute. You could feel Alex on your specific trail. Where had Jay gone? No idea. Who was that guy that tried to fight Alex? Possibly dead. There were a lot of gunshots.

You continued to run until your lungs burned, stumbling through the trees, praying he hadn’t caught up with you. Whenever the static grew louder in your head, so too did the feeling that Alex was close. Too close.

“Reader!” You heard Alex shout out into the night after a particularly rough patch of static that left your eyeballs feeling like barbells in your skull. He kept calling out for your name.

Your lungs and your legs burned. You couldn’t possibly go on for much longer like this - he’d find you. He’d kill you. You felt tears prick your eyes as the sound of crunching sticks and grass invaded your ears. He was closer still.

In your haste of running, you had slammed into what felt like a tree, knocking it off balance as well as yourself before recognizing, no, that was not a tree.

“What the fu-”

“Shh,” the voice said. You recognized it immediately as the man from earlier. “Come on, this way.”

Not even waiting for an answer, he took your hand into his and began to guide you through the trees, pulling you along at a speed you didn’t think was human.

You held your other arm out as you pushed away branches and brambles. “Who are you?” You ask as quietly as you could, the sound of Alex’s running steps growing faster.

“Unimportant,” the man replies, barely looking over his shoulder as he continued to pull you along. “You need to get out.”

“What about Jay?”

“He’s in the parking lot waiting for you.” The man sounded a little out of breath, or perhaps he was just restricted due to the mask he wore (you could make out its outline in the moonlight). “He’s okay.”

A relief floods your system as you attempt to match pace with him on your own accord. It’s gone when you hear more gunshots ring out through the trees followed by flashes of light from the muzzle when you turn your head around.

“Fucking reckless,” the man mumbled under his breath.

“Why is he doing this?” You asked in a panic.

The sound of Alex’s laughter echoes through the trees.

“He’s insane.”

You believe him.

Eventually, the two of you reach the same tunnel where it all began. How far had you run out? No time to ruminate on that thought, the masked man pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Keep running straight. You’ll hit the parking lot in no time.Jay is waiting for you.”

“But I-”

He hushes you as the sound of Alex grows closer and closer still. You can hear him taunting you as he realizes where you are.

“Go.” He pushes you in the direction you need to run before turning around and facing Alex, who’s finally caught up.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you run.

You’re almost certain you’re going to throw up or something to that effect when you finally make it back to the parking lot. Your lungs have expanded much too much, your muscles ache, and you feel light headed and dizzy. By the time you reach the asphalt, you don’t even recognize the sound of Jay rushing over to you. His words sound like a blur in your head as he grips your shoulders.

“Reader!” His grip tightens. “Are you okay?” He keeps asking but you feel so faint.

“Jay?”

“Hey, hey, stay up.: He holds you up as you sway. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, eyes looking at you with great concern.

You take in a deep breath as you nod along to his words, hardly able to even comprehend anything. You feel your body move on autopilot as he brings you to the car, and you act on autopilot as you buckle yourself up. The car begins to leave the parking lot, your eyes able to scan the tree line once more.

And there he is, the masked man, watching the two of you leave.

Red bloomed on his chest.

#jay merrick #tim wright #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #x reader #reader insert #jay merrick x reader #creepypasta masky #masky x reader

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winter-turtle · 3 years

Note

I know this wouldn’t happen since your fic is a no power au, but you saying you love sick fic peter with protective iron dad in your other ask made me wonder, what WOULD Mob boss Tony’s reaction to the bite be? Especially if Peter got REALLY sick like some fics have him be. (Probably many, MANY, unalived oscorp employees, that’s for sure)

You, my friend, got me thinking. So despite me being busy whole day, I still went and wrote something short for this tumblr exclusive (I always wanted to say that) AU of an AU.

Or "what if" of The Ties That Bind Us/Grow As We Go

It's way past one in the morning, so please excuse any mistakes and enjoy these 850 words.

Tony was worried sick. But his “worried sick” had nothing on Peter’s “actually sick”. He shouldn’t have allowed Peter to go on that god-forsaken field trip to Oscorp.

“What do you mean you can’t figure out what’s wrong with him?! Why the hell am I even paying you for then?” he’d yelled at Strange and Cho from the top of his lungs.

His kid was in pain. That much was obvious.

It had all started after the dinner. Peter hadn’t eaten all that much in the first place – which, okay, combined with how pale the boy looked, Tony had assumed Peter got a cold or flu or something – but after he’d excused himself and said he was going to bed, he didn’t make it five steps before he collapsed.

They called in Strange, Cho as well, but even with their combined forces they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Peter. The only lead they had was a red spot on Peter’s hand and the abnormal bloodwork results.

It wasn’t until the team had looked through Peter’s camera for clues that they discovered another lead. Radioactive spiders display.

A quick hack to Oscorp’s security feed had shown Peter slapping something from his hand before he went to catch up with the group.

That’s when Bruce got called in.

That was two days ago.

Besides quick trips to end the lives of various scientists – already bloodied scientists that had received treatment from the rest of the team – who had something to do with the project and even the owner himself, Tony faithfully remained at his barely-lucid son’s side.

The too-high fever, the labored breathing, the seizures – it made Tony feel like ripping his own hair out. If given the chance, he would’ve gladly taken Peter’s place if it would take the pain away from the teen. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, so all what was left for him to do was to gently wipe the sweat from Peter’s forehead with cool cloth.

Damn it, he just got his son into his life, he couldn’t lose him!

Peter sighed at the coolness, barely peeled his eyelids open before they slid shut once again. His skin was so hot that if given enough time, you could fry an egg on him.

Tony shook his head, dunked the cloth into the water, squeezed most of it out before resuming the now-too-familiar motions.

Tony was reluctantly dragged into shower when Peter somehow stabilized the next day.

Peter woke up… feeling better than expected if he was being honest. He had some vague recollection of intense pain, but there was no trace of it. He also woke up in company of passed out and very tired-looking Pepper in the armchair next to his bed.

So, as quietly as he could, Peter unhooked himself from the IV, got from under the light blanket and headed to the door.

“What the…?” he muttered when his hand remained on the handle as if it was glued there. He tugged and tugged, but the hand didn’t budge. It was only then that he noticed the blanket stuck to his other hand.

The sound of his struggling must’ve woken Pepper up and she had to alert others because the next thing Peter knew, he was surrounded by his family.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tony – who looked like he just woke up – asked worriedly.

“Dad, someone- someone glued me to the door! I can’t get my hand free- whoa!”

Several people had to jump out of the way of the door that got ripped out of its hinges. Even if Peter tugged hard, there was no possibility that he’d tugged that hard. He opened his hand, but the handle was still stuck to his palm. Everybody looked as surprised as him.

“Isn’t that… heavy?” Clint asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s… not…” Peter replied as he waved the door around. “I know it’s supposed to be, but… wait, is this a dream?”

“Kiddo, if this is a dream, then we’re all somehow interconnected,” Tony said. “And I know for sure that no glue is strong enough to do… that. Okay, uh, maybe try to relax? It might make the door unstick?”

True to his words and several shakes later, the door fell on the ground with a loud bang.

“Kid—”

“Don’t!” Peter cried out as he backed away. “Please, don’t come any closer. I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” They all stared with mouths hanging open. Peter’s jaw fell too once he realized what position he was in. He was pressing himself against the wall.

But a foot off the ground.

He began to hyperventilate.

“Pete,” Tony said gently as he approached, “don’t worry. I know for a fact that you would never hurt us. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.” Tony reached his hand. “Together.”

Peter, managing to calm down, tentatively reached his own hand towards his dad. Upon seeing that nothing bad happened, he wrapped himself around Tony’s front like a koala, burying his face in Tony’s neck.

“Together.”

#marvel fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #mob boss tony stark #peter parker is tony stark's biological child #marvel #irondad #spiderson #peter gets his powers #tony is worried dad™#sickfic #sick peter parker #worried tony stark

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solastia · 4 years

Text

The Dragon’s Lair - 7

- SEOKJIN’S POV -

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x F!Reader (although she’s kinda OC now huh?)

A/N: Kinda on the short side, I apologize. But I wanted us to get a quick peek into Jin’s side of things and where his mind is. Any guesses on who his mate might be? ;)

*****

He wasn’t sure what had woken him up. The house was silent beyond Namjoon’s snores that he could hear coming through the old walls. He waited a few seconds to see if he could hear anything else or catch a scent, but it was all clear. There was just something pricking at his mind - something making his instincts go wild. He’d blame the fact that he was in a new house but this wasn’t a new feeling.

It had begun when his ride here had traveled past the sea. He’d gotten a whiff of fresh ocean air and his fur had instantly bristled up. His claws had lengthened involuntarily and he’d had to exercise every scrap of self-control he possessed so he wouldn’t leap out of the moving vehicle and run full-shift towards whatever that scent had been.

Seokjin groans and cracks open his eyes, still heavy with sleep. He might as well take a trip to the bathroom while he was already awake. He yawns and forces himself out of the comfy bed, scratching his belly sleepily. Even now, the scent was clear to him. There had been the smell of the ocean, yes, but...something else. Something other like him.

The realistic part of Seokjin’s brain said maybe his exotic side had simply found a scent it liked and that’s that. But when he allowed himself to be more fanciful, like now when it was three am and he was still half asleep, he listened to the Sphinx screaming, “mate, mate, MATE!,” and he didn’t hate the idea.

He’d been alone for so very long that it sounded like a dream. A fairytale ending for his Cinderella story.

Not that Namjoon was any sort of evil stepsister, nor his mate that exuded naivety and goodness from every pore. If anything, he knew that he was particularly blessed to have Heechul hyung looking out for him and talking this human into taking him in. He would have dealt with having to be in the shelter again, but quite honestly he was too old to do well there. He was a grown Sphinx used to independence and being at the top of his hierarchy.

He finishes in the bathroom and sighs heartily, deciding sleep was going to be impossible now. Might as well help himself to the kitchen. He shuffled quietly there and peeked inside the fridge, horrified once again by the contents. How have these two been keeping alive? The fridge only contained very basic ingredients like eggs and milk, a bottle of soy sauce, and not a single vegetable in sight.

He settles for making a couple of fried eggs, using them to top off the bowl of instant rice he pilfered from the cupboards. He gives it all a splash of soy sauce so it’s not completely flavorless and sits at the kitchen table, eating his little meal slowly.

It always seemed like nights were harder for some reason. Like the dark vastness of the sky reminded him of how empty his life had become - of how much he missed his parents.

He’d seriously lucked out when the two had walked into the shelter all those years ago. He’d been a bit older than the usual desired age for hybrid adoptions so he hadn’t expected much when Heechul had escorted the couple towards the exotic section. He’d stayed in his corner of the room playing his video game, but he’d kept an eye on them as they smiled and shook hands with all the desperate little ones crowding them. They seemed genuinely nice, with smiles that lit up their eyes and the man always making his wife laugh.

When they finally got close enough, Seokjin greedily scented the air, thinking if he ever had someone pick him he hoped they smelled as good as these two. The man - though obviously old for a human - smelled strong and healthy. Faint hints of cigar smoke and old books clung to him almost as much as his mate’s scent did. And his mate - the wife - smelled exactly how Seokjin had always thought a mother would. A light hint of expensive perfume couldn’t cloud the endorphins that were coming off of her in waves from being surrounded by the little ones. She was older too - perhaps younger than her husband by no more than a handful of years - but she too seemed to be in good health. She smelled so comforting to Seokjin that he stopped paying attention to his game and let his little avatar get killed three times in a row as he glued his eyes on the woman.

Heechul actually herded the pair towards him and he set down his controller and bowed formally, wanting to make a good impression despite the fact that he knew they would never pick him. He’d thought they’d merely shake his hand and move on, but the man had kept asking him questions about his hobbies and what he wanted to do when he grew up. The woman kept staring at him with her hand held to her chest like she’d been shocked by something.

It wasn’t until a half-hour later when Heechul had called him into his office with the pair that he realized she’d decided she wanted him. A mere few minutes and she’d decided she was his mother and no one else’s. “You’re so handsome I fell in love at first sight, my Jinnie,” she’d always say.

He’d had nineteen wonderful years with them before pneumonia took them both within days of each other. Nineteen years filled with happiness and laughter with two of the most loving people he’d ever met. He missed his routines with them - the fishing every weekend with his dad, cooking with his mom, the Sundays all three of them would sit around with face masks and watch movies.

When they’d passed away, his heart had broken. He’d known it was inevitable - they were both getting old and frail - but he’d thought he’d have just a little more time with them. After the funeral, he waited with bated breath for someone to storm in and drag him off to be put down somewhere. When nothing had happened, he’d grown steadily more careless, often forgetting he wasn’t supposed to be on his own with the big house and vast wealth. He’d carried on with his life like he knew his parents would have wanted him to. He kept going to med school since his dad had pulled so many strings to let him attend, he tried going on dates that never went anywhere, he hung out with his friends whenever he had the time. Life went on.

Trying to stop the robber had been stupid of him - he knew that now. He should have just let the man get away and then never reported him so he’d be left alone...but once he spied his mother’s favorite pearls in the man’s hand he’d lost his shit. He’d fully shifted, letting his wings out and knocking over a couple of vases with their width, and his nails expanded until finally he’d roared and the robber had screamed and thrown the nearest item at his head in his rush to escape. Unfortunately, that item had been his mother’s bird statue that was made entirely of gold, so he’d been knocked out cold. His friend had found him after he hadn’t shown up to their gaming session and called the police and an ambulance, where they took his blood and found out that he was a hybrid with deceased owners and proceeded to shove him in the nearest pound while they contacted his mother’s very distant cousin.

He’d never even gotten to meet this so-called cousin before the fat lawyer that smelled like fried chicken rushed him out of his own home, making him leave behind even the belongings that were his. He had no idea what use the cousin had for his manga or video game collection. Let alone the used sports jerseys or his hamper full of dirty clothes.

Thankfully Heechul existed and he’d been able to contact his old caregiver before he was sent to the state center. He knew that place was a death sentence. And now here he was, in a strange home with barely anything besides his small suitcase. He missed his dad. He missed his mom. He missed feeling loved and hopeful for the future. He missed the way his dad always knew what to do. He missed the way his mom would brush his mane and groom his feathers while she sang.

Seokjin cleared his throat and swiped at his suddenly wet cheek. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. He shook his head and went to the sink to wash his dishes, heading back to his room when he finished for another sleepless night.

****

Life in the ‘Dragon’s Lair’ (as he’d taken to calling it, despite said dragon’s constant eye-rolling) began to take on a new normal the longer he was there. Days began to blend into each other as he struggled to adjust himself to his new reality, but Namjoon and his mate were a great help.

Luckily, his tuition had been prepaid by his father and the cousin had no way of taking his education away from him, so he still took his classes - albeit mostly online because he wanted to stay in his room most of the time.

Money was thankfully of no immediate issue. There was more money in the book than he’d felt comfortable sharing with anyone, enough that he could still go years without a job if he needed to. He also knew that if he needed it, he could always ask Heechul for help, although the other would make him work in the cafe for it. He might do it anyway just for something to do.

Namjoon and his mate were simply wonderful. His old friend had grown up into a great person who was sweet and intelligent, good to the people he cared about, and strong in ways that he probably wasn’t even aware of. His mate Star was just as good. She was funny and kind, with just enough sass to be interesting. And they were both sickeningly in love with each other to the point that Seokjin had to leave the house quite often to get some peace. Not that it upset him - he was incredibly happy for Namjoon. It just sometimes emphasizes how alone he was.

But yes, Star was great. There was just...something about her. Something that drew him to her. Not in a sexual or attraction kind of way...more like - primal. Like the animal side of him saw her as a protector. Which, he supposed she kinda was since she was housing exotic hybrids, but still. He couldn’t figure it out. He was certain she was completely human, but sometimes underneath the frankly nauseating amount of reptile musk that she was constantly covered with, he could catch hints of the forest in her natural scent. Sure, there was a forest nearby, but why would the scent cling to her like that? There was something there and luckily for him, there was nothing he enjoyed more than a good riddle.

Beyond that, there was still one other pressing issue. His mate.

He knew they were out there. He knew he’d caught their scent. When he’d passed the sea he’d been certain they were there. He just needed to find them. He didn’t want them to be alone too.

“Jin, we’re about to head to the mall. Do you want to come shopping with us? The weather’s clearing up and I promised Namjoon we’d go to the ocean,” Star asked with a bright smile as he exited his room.

“The ocean?” he responded, his brain halting for a second. Fate was working her magic, was she?

“Yeah, he’s been wanting to go for a while but it’s been too cold. I thought we’d rent a small beach house and spend the weekend. So you’ll need swim trunks and towels, stuff like that. If you’d rather stay here, that’s fine too. It’s up to you.”

“No,” he rushed, feeling his ears go red with embarrassment as he let his eagerness show. “It’s fine. I’d love to go.”

“Great!” Star grinned, threading an arm with his as she leads him out to the yard. “We’ll have so much fun!”

He nods silently, his nose trying in vain to catch that salty scent on the air again.

I’m coming. Just wait for me.

#bts #the dragon's lair #solastia #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hybrid au #hybrid!au #hybrid!bts #hybrid!namjoon #hybrid!seokjin #dragon!au #sphinx #bts au

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