#(looks like my wish will be granted very soon)

[pharawee]

—Ming, why are you rescuing me when I already turned you down? —It's your feeling. I can't force you to love me, can I? But I help you because I love you. I cannot stand seeing my loved one suffering like this.

[our-lady-of-mcr]

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[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader 

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | When Cregan Stark begins his search for a wife, some hidden feelings come to light.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,484(Idk what came over me okay!?)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mature Content-Explicit Descriptions Of Sex | Friends to lovers, Longing and pining, Love confessions, Possessive!Cregan, Smut: Piv, Oral(fem receiving), Clit biting, Hair pulling, Multiple orgasms, Biting/bruising(VERY MILD), Wife/marriage kink, Size difference. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I did not anticipate Cregan Stark pulling me out of my writing slump. But everyone say thank you Cregan! For those of you waiting for it, Hea Mēre is still coming. I just wanted to post something since I haven’t put any new works out here lately. Hea Mēre is coming SOON, though, I promise.

masterlist | read on ao3

Word had spread that the Warden of the North was in need of a wife. And so the great hall of Winterfell was now a symphony of merry music and proud spoken promises. Nearly every great house in the north flocked to Winterfell’s gates one after the other. Some lords arrived with nearly their whole households in tow. Some only brought their daughters. 

Cregan, ever the loyal man, had welcomed them to his home as any good liege lord would. Demanding a feast be thrown in the honor of northern unity. 

The revels had been at their height for hours now, and you took in as much as you could handle. As the night wore on, though, you found a need for respite. The boisterous laughter and clambering of drunk men was a muffled sound to your ears now. Out here in the chilly corridors, only the howling wind could truly be heard. 

It had been close to a year since Cregan took the seat of his late father. Since then, the north has rallied behind him. Came to pledge their words of fealty and wish their lord prosperity. And now they came again to offer him their daughters, sisters, and nieces. You knew he would take a wife at some point—some point very soon. And because he was a northman through and through, he would marry a northern woman. One from a great house with a long history and ample influence. 

For some reason, all your preparation for this moment had done nothing to aid you when it actually came.

The wind swirled around you like a restless spirit, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself to stave off the chill. You could just go back inside, but all the warmth in the world could not tempt you. Witnessing all the eligible ladies of the north look upon Cregan with hungry and hopeful eyes was an unnecessary cruelty you didn’t wish on yourself. It wasn’t as though you could fault them for it. He was Lord of Winterfell, and as such, he was obligated to take a wife. What woman wouldn’t want that to be them? 

You yourself had yearned for it for as long as you could recall. Practically growing up alongside him, youthful companionship had reformed as enrapturing affection. There was not a day where you did not cross paths with him, often purposely carving out time to spend together. You were always available to each other; living within the same keep had made it quite impossible to be apart. 

Your father was Master of Arms; being a second son from house Cerwyn, he was granted knighthood in his youth. The late Lord Rickon Stark had appointed him as Master of Arms a handful of years before you were born. 

Your father had trained Cregan as a boy. The memory of first meeting him was still clear as glass even after all these years. 

The snow was still cool against your cheeks as you sat atop a railing, observing your father working with the boys during one particular day. You had snuck away from your Septa some time ago, preferring the chilled air outside to the stuffy heat indoors. That, and your hands ached from all the needlework you’d been made to practice. 

Cregan had caught sight of you almost immediately. Smirking at your attempt to conceal yourself from searching eyes. You smiled back at him, pressing a small finger to your lips silently, asking him to keep your secret. 

And he did. He said nothing to your father during the training session. Pretending you weren’t there at all. It wasn’t until your father caught you himself that you were sent back inside with clear instructions to apologize to your Septa for running off. 

It was an act of fate that later that day you and Cregan crossed paths in one of the winding halls of Winterfell. In a second long bout of courage, you stopped him to say a proper thank you for not ratting you out. 

The rest was simply history. 

“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” The low rumble of a voice invaded your troubled thoughts. 

The sound of footsteps thudded against the old wood. You turned to see Cregan rounding the corner, his slate eyes resting on you. The flickering torchlight caught the contours of his face, and for a moment, the weight of his presence made your heart race.

“Why are you all the way out here?” He asked, his deep candace rolling over you like thunder. 

“I just needed some air.” You answered, hoping he’d deem it a suitable reply. “The festivities got a bit overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a thrill of familiar fondness down your spine. “Overwhelming is one way to put it. I can hardly hear myself think in there.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body casting like a shield against the cold. “But I am glad I’ve found you.”

You nodded, not catching the implicating tone in his voice. You dropped your gaze to the frost-kissed ground. “I suppose everyone is eager to make an impression tonight. Especially the ladies.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, laced with a bitterness that you were not used to hearing from your own voice. 

He noted the sour tone in your words. He himself admitted to being caught offhand at the unexpected abundance of marriage proposals. When he had alluded to wanting to look for a wife, he hadn’t anticipated this. Truthfully, the only woman he would want to wed was standing beside him. In the years of closeness with you, you had unknowingly taken his heart right from him. He recognized the fact that he hadn’t owned his heart for some time now. He had given it to you long before he even realized it. 

If he was certain you would accept, he’d have asked your hand in marriage instead of entertaining half the northern population.

“Eager indeed.” He replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. “It is all rather…overwhelming.” He sighed, echoing your words from before. 

You disliked seeing him so burdened. In the months since he took the role of Warden, though, that oppressed look marred his handsome features far too frequently for your liking. 

“You need not rush into anything.” You consoled, wanting to take his strains and carry them yourself.

He grunted, resting his hands over the pommel of Ice. The great longsword hanging at his side. “Would you have me keep my people in suspense?”

“I would rather you keep them waiting than to risk your own happiness.” You said, your voice softer now, carrying the weight of your concern. Sometimes it felt foolish to worry over him so much, but you supposed that was a condition of loving someone.

“What do you think would make me happy?” The question wasn’t unexpected; he oftentimes sought out your advice just as you would with him. But to speak with him of his potential nuptials felt like a shard of ice was lodged in your chest. 

You met his eyes; gone from the silver shine was the frustration replaced with a sort of keenness to know your thoughts. Most would say his eyes were two wild winter storms, and they could be if he was so inclined. But you had always seen them as bright stars hanging high in the sky. Shining down with their silver light that pulled you in and stole your breath. 

“I would say marriage to someone who could honor and carry on the traditions of your family.” You replied, a peak of the true depths of your devotion seeping into your words. “A lady that would care for you, and not simply the title that came with you.” 

“Someone like you, perhaps?” Cregan suggested a teasing lilt in his voice, but there was no mistaking the tinge of sincerity. He stepped closer then, forcing you to twist your position to where your back was against the railing. His warmth clouded your senses for a moment, causing you to lose track of your thoughts. 

“You jest.” You retort, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips. “This is serious, Cregan.” 

His expression shifted, a spark of intensity igniting in his eyes. “I am being serious.” He countered, an unusual tension crackling in the cold air. There was something new swimming in his eyes, firm but soft the longer he looked at you. “You’ve always been more to me than just a companion or a friend. You must know that.” 

A scoff sounded from you. “Must I?” You echoed incredulously, your heart pounding in your chest. The chilly air felt electric, humming with unspoken words and emotions that had been buried for too long. 

He pressed closer, his presence mudding your resolve. “Yes,” he insisted. “Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I crave you by my side above all else.” His voice was low and earnest, not a hint of deception to be found. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your lips parting to take in a shaky breath. “I am not a woman that could ever be considered as your wife.” The words stung as they left your lips, trembling on their descent. He was alluding to everything you had secretly hoped for, yet the reality of it felt like a dream you weren’t sure you could grasp. “I am the daughter of a second son. I hold no titles, no grand connections. And certainly-”

Cregan silenced you with a searing kiss. One that was all flames and fervor, but slow enough to feel every movement of his mouth molding over yours. A soft gasp slipped past you, and he drank it in, claiming it for himself. 

Your hands hung by your sides for a moment before your body caught up with your mind. But once his solid arms coiled themselves around your hips, something in you snapped in place finally. Hands went to his shoulders, gripping onto the thick fur of his cloak. He pulled you in, your back coming off the railing, pressing you to him so no space was between you. 

Your lips struggled to match his pace, but it was not for lack of trying. All these years of tampered emotions and repressed desires made everything blur together. The only tangible thing to be felt was Cregan. He held you with the utmost gentleness, his hands falling along your curves but never drifting too far or squeezing too tightly. 

The yearning threatened to spill over. Bubbling within the both of you and being tended higher and higher with every slide of your lips against each other. You knew better than anyone that he had a roughness about him. And you wanted to coax it out; you wanted him. 

His teeth nipped your bottom lip as he walked you backwards. Pressing you into a wooden pillar, he brought you flush against him. Though, through all the furs and layers of clothing, there was nothing to be felt. You could sense his hunger in the subtle low noises in the back of his throat and the way his touch grew feverish. 

When he left your mouth to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck, you took the opportunity to reign in your self-control. When he hitched one of your legs around his hips, though, you could feel your composure slipping away. The line of propriety daring you to cross it as his fingers kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh. 

“Cregan.” You sighed as he kissed a line across your jaw. There were things you wanted to say. Things you needed to speak about. But your desire-addled mind couldn’t bring forth a single syllable. 

A loud roar of laughter sounded from the great hall, pulling you both back to the present. Cregan huffs into the crook of your neck, the hot puff of his breath sending goosebumps along your spine. 

He dropped your leg but kept his hold on your waist. “I will not take you for the first time in my halls where anyone could see.” Everything inside him screamed at him to continue, to hike up your skirts and make you his once and for all. But he would not have the first time muddied with the risk of prying eyes. He would have you, but only somewhere safe, warm, and private. 

“If this is what you want,” Cregan murmured. “I would have you in my chambers, though; if you wish to not continue, I will leave at once.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, eyes meeting his as your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest. “I have never wanted anything more than you for as long as I can recall.”

With your words solidifying what you both wanted, he pressed another quick kiss to your lips. Taking your hand in his, you made the all too familiar walk to his chambers. 

You had some time to think while trending through the halls. Your mind was made up, resolved, and set in stone, but nerves prickled at your skin. Not for the act itself really, but the knowledge it would be with Cregan. After all this time and all the wondering, it was finally happening. You hadn’t quite wrapped your head around it yet. 

This part of the keep was dead silent, far away enough from the great hall that the raucous of the gathering was a distant memory. The doors to his chambers were tall, heavy oak, crafted from large stocks of trees from the Wolfswood. As Cregan pushed them open, the warmth from inside his rooms wafted out to greet you. 

Passing through the threshold, you felt the shift of everything. Nothing would be the same after tonight. “What happens afterwards?” You question, words leaving your lips in a whisper as his makes an expedition across your jaw. You didn’t want to doubt him, but all of this felt like a dream moving so quickly you couldn’t discern if anything was real. 

“I will make you mine tonight.” He murmured, one arm going around your waist. “And you make me yours. Then we will be wed before the Weirwood tree.” 

“You would make me your wife?” You asked softly, watching as his face became puzzled. 

“Were my words not convincing enough?” A smile pulled on his lips, though he did not let it overtake his expression. He hummed a deep sound, lips falling here and there on your neck. 

His sugary tone thrilled you to your core. His hinting words and the press of his mouth made a surge of arousal swirl within you. “Perhaps you should just show me,” you urged. 

Not wasting another second, his arm around your waist hauled you to him. Your fingers gripping the fur of his cloak, pulling yourself as close as possible to him. Cregan’s mouth met yours frantically. His kiss was hungry, filled with a deep-seated yearning for you that he had tried to ignore. 

The heat of the room multiplied. Gone were the frozen winds from outside, a blazing inferno taking its place. That fire churned between you as he kissed you with the roughness you knew lay within him. Once again, you failed to keep up, but you were more than content to let him kiss you into a stupor. His teeth scraping the skin of your bottom lip as he worked on the clasp of your cloak. 

Letting the heavy garment fall to the floor at your feet, you shivered at the loss of its warmth. Wanting to level things out, your hands undid the fastening of his, a thrill shooting to you, noticing the eagerness in which he tossed it to the ground. 

“Cregan.” You whispered, trembling at the feeling of his hands at your back untying the laces of your dress. The material sagging around your shoulders. Grey stars met your eyes, asking you if he could continue. Nodding your consent, he slid the dress down, never letting his eyes wander as the garment pooled at your feet.

Your shift was the only thing separating your nakedness from his eyes. But you couldn’t help but feel the severe imbalance between you. As he made home in your neck again, your hands went to work on the restraints of his tunic. One by one, the clasps opened for you until you pushed the clothing from his shoulders. 

He huffed out a laugh into the skin of your neck that turned into a shudder when your fingers slid under his shirt. You let your hands feel along the corded muscle of his abdomen. Years of hard training formed his body into the mountain of a man that he was now. 

You moaned outright when he bit the skin below your ear. His hands mapping out the dips of your curves. Gripping here and there with his digits, unable to help himself when feeling the heat of your skin from beneath the thin shift. 

Growing desperate, you started raising his shirt up to say you wanted it off. He untangled himself from you just enough to aid you in lifting it over his head. It joined the rest of your clothing on the floor.

Seeing what was always hidden underneath those layers of thick garments had your head spinning. He was all solid muscle and pure strength. Powerful yes, but knowing that he would never use that power against you in a way to cause harm was exhilarating. 

Not being able to help yourself, you let your fingers lightly glide over the impressive map of his stomach. He indulges you for a few moments before your nails scrape along his skin, causing a growl to rumble through his chest. Snatching up your hands, he pulled you flush against him again. He devours your mouth with uncontrolled need. Lust was all but dripping from him, but the underlying affection would not be drowned out. Cregan was a man of few words more often than not, so he preferred to show you all that you meant to him. 

Hands taking hold of your hips, he maneuvered you to his bed. His eyes shining with tenderness as you let him lay you down on the mattress. The furs covering the sheets were soft beneath you, surrounding you in a comforting embrace. Cregan stood over you for a moment before going to his knees. Spreading your legs apart, he made home between them, his shoulders coming up under your knees. 

He wanted to taste every inch of you, trail his lips and tongue along every curve and sensitive patch of skin he could find. Hands coming up to the straps of your shift, he paused to see you already shaking your head. He grinned to himself as he removed the last bit of fabric hiding you from him. Off your shoulders to reveal your breasts, down your sides to uncover your stomach, and finally letting it fall away to bare your center to him. 

“Let me taste you.” He rumbled, his voice dropping deeper than you’d ever heard it. It’s timbre shooting a buzz of delight through you. The heat in your belly grows hotter, filling you with yearning that threatens to break you. 

You nodded, feeling the warmth trickle down to your core. “Yes, please.” Those two words were all he needed—your breathy answer coaxing an unquenchable thirst within him. And he intends to drink his fill. 

He kissed his way down your body. Guaranteeing you felt every kiss pressed to your skin and every scrap of his teeth. You were growing breathless already, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Anticipation makes your heart thud wildly inside your chest.

His lips gave attention to every plane of your body. Scorching his path from your neck to your breasts, and then to your stomach to make his way to your thighs. 

A low grumble crawled up his throat when your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. The heavy pressure of his mouth slid closer up the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin there before going over it with his tongue. He could all but smell your arousal now this close to your center. The hunger to dive right in was almost overwhelming. The broad expanse of his shoulders pushed your legs further apart. Settling them over his back, his hand gripped the flesh of your thighs. 

As the breath caught in your throat, your stomach swirled with delicious nerves. The warm slick gathered between your thighs was a glittering treasure Cregan took for himself. A surge of self-satisfaction rippled through him. 

He takes in the wiggling of your body on his bed and hears the shaky inhales of your breath. Your thighs were twitching in his hold as he sank his teeth into the soft skin once more. You were like silk, smooth under his touch. The difference of his calloused fingers against your velvet skin was pure excellence in his eyes. 

The first kiss he gave your slit knocked the breath from your lungs. When he licked a burning stripe up your core, your hearing grew fuzzy. His movements were careful and calculated to push you to the edge of complete insanity. 

His arms around your hips went to bring you closer, a groan clawing up his throat as he pursued the pleasure of your cunt. He opened you to him with his tongue, desperate for whatever you granted him. A whine parted your lips as your hands gripped at his hair, your hips chasing the feel of his mouth without you even realizing it. 

He was nothing if not formidable, even while he lapped at your wetness like a man starved. Resting between your legs, shoulders tensed with the vigor of his movements. He was solely focused on you, moaning into your center absently like he had never tasted something so sweet. He would spend the rest of his days with his face buried in your cunt if he could. 

The heated cord within your belly continuously wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. His mouth was ravenous, kissing and sucking with urgency, like if he didn’t make you come on his mouth, he would die.

“Cregan.” You sighed, writhing within his hold, causing his arms to grow tighter around you, locking you in place. The feeling was complete euphoria but also the sweetest torture at the same time. You yanked on the dark stands of his hair, urging him closer as if he wasn’t already practically inside you. “Please, don’t stop.” You begged, glancing down to see his starry eyes stuck on you. 

He wasn’t about to let such a saccharine request go unanswered. But he also wasn’t going to let you squirm and wiggle about as you pleased. His belly was raging with hot fire, waiting for the chance to be released. His cock strained against his trousers, aching with the need to be inside of you. But he wanted to taste you spilling on his tongue first. He kept up with his heavy strokes against your center, drawing you closer and closer to your peak. 

You were like honey on his tongue, surgery and sweet, all for him to devour. Listening to the melody of your whines and moans quickly became his favorite music. It brought him pleasure almost as much as it did you to know the ruinous state he’s gotten you in. 

Your legs began to shake around his head, small tremors of ecstasy swimming through you. Cregan raked the path from your entrance to your clit with his tongue, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before taking it in his mouth. The soft gasps of his name that came from your lips as he sucked on your pearl were maddening. It had his fingers digging harder into the pliant flesh of your thighs, surely leaving bruises he would have to kiss once this was all over. 

He was known to all as a stoic and serious man, but when he flicked his silver-hued eyes at you, they were nothing if not a flurry of affection. The sight of you on his bed breathless and lost to the pleasure he was giving you was heart-stopping. He had always thought you to be the prettiest girl he’d ever known, but now he likened you to a goddess. You had bewitched him body and soul. 

His mouth still worked over your core. Switching between dipping his tongue into your entrance and wrapping his lips around your clit. Whenever he sucked the nerves in his mouth, he was rewarded with the prettiest sound to ever grace his ears. A high-pitched whine that slowly faded to a deep sigh. 

You wanted to close your legs around his head, lock him there for the foreseeable future. But every time you moved your legs, he pried them apart, keeping you open to him so he could lavish his affection upon your cunt. His nose nudged your pearl whenever he dipped further down. You didn’t know how much more you could take. The peak was right there within your grasp; you just needed something to push you the rest of the way. 

He was unrelenting, seemingly just as obsessed with bringing you apart with his mouth. A scream ripped past your lips as Cregan took your clit back in his mouth once more. His teeth bit down on the sensitive bundle of nerves, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to shoot a spike of pleasure pain down your spine. He drew his teeth away and soothed your pearl with his tongue.

“Cregan!” You sputtered, hips lurching forward to chase his mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, that any moment now you would burst into flames. Your eyes screwed shut as stars exploded behind your eyelids. He dragged his teeth over your clit again, making your grip on his hair tighten even more. If you weren’t so out of it, you would have worried about pulling his hair out completely. “Do that again.” You pleaded with a trembling breath. 

A huff of mild amusement escaped him before he was wrapping his mouth around your pearl and biting. He pulled at it with his teeth only to release it and sooth it over with his tongue. He drew whimper after whimper, moan after moan out of you. All the while, your legs shook around him with the weight of your impending release. 

“Gods, I’m close!” A pleading moan tore past your lips, brain going hazy with the mounting pleasure. Your nails dug into his scalp as the cord grew taunt. The roughness didn’t discourage him, though. It merely made him all the more determined to push you over into oblivion. 

“Please.” You spoke out into the air. A few more moments of his ministrations: bite, pull, sooth, suck. The cord snapped. A sharp gasp sounded from you as you shook like you were back in the cold winds outside. Everything spilled over; goosebumps erupted over your flesh. The heated tidal wave of your release rushing along your body. The sheer power of it having your back arching from the bed. 

It felt as if your body was humming as your peak subsided slowly. Sinking back upon the furs, you untangled your fingers from Cregan’s hair. He was still gently lapping at your wetness as you reluctantly pushed him away. He lifted his head, eyes looking upon you with such reverence. 

He kissed his way up your thighs, making sure to pay extra attention to the bruises he’d left. His lips were soft and caring on your sensitive skin. As he made his way further upwards, he pressed his face into your stomach. “I love you.” He whispered so faintly into your skin you weren’t sure if he even realized he said it. 

“What?” You gasped, going up on your elbows to look at him. Face still buried in your middle, he murmured it again. This time raising his eyes to gauge your reaction. “You do?” You mumbled, becoming flustered all over again. 

He crawled over you, covering your body beneath his burly physique as he claimed your lips. Your hand went to his cheek, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I do,” he husked. You took a moment to look at him, his eyes shining with adoration. “You still doubt my affections?” 

You’re shaking your head instantly. “No,” you protest. “I simply didn’t expect you to say that.” You were grinning like a fool, mouth curved upwards in a beaming smile. He returned it, with one albeit smaller than yours, but it was still all him. You laughed into the kiss he gave you as he situated himself back between your legs. 

“Allow me to show you then.” He spoke in a hushed voice. All you had to do was nod, and he was shucking off his breeches, kicking them from the bed. 

You couldn’t see him, but you felt him big and hard against your thigh. Nerves swirled within you—not that he would ever hurt you intentionally, but that there would be no way around it hurting. You knew he would put your well-being above all else, though. 

The barely-there smile still rested upon his face. “You’re still smiling.” You point out completely besotted with this mountain of a man. 

“Hush woman.” He let out a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It was difficult to keep up his stone-like appearance in your presence. It always had been, but with your wide eyes looking up at him still hazy with pleasure, it was increasingly harder. 

Bodies aligned and chests pressed against each other, you leaned up your lips searching for him, wanting another kiss. The kiss was as sweet as honey, soft as silk, much like you. From deep within his throat, a low rumble of approval echoed, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he returned the kiss with fervor.

You went to wrap your arms around his shoulders and found you could barely touch your hands together at the nape of his neck. Still though, it didn’t stop you from racking your nails across his skin. Hoping it would spurn him on. His cock rocked against your thigh, tip hitting your core for a split second. 

“Patience, my girl.” He warned, rough palm soothing back your hair. “Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed a line across your collarbone, nose skimming along your skin. You felt him slide up along your thigh, the tip nudging at your entrance again. Just that little friction had shivers racing up and down your spine. 

He canted his hips forward, pushing just slightly into your cunt. He was as big as he seemed evidently; the sting spread further as he slid in slowly. Inch by inch, with every ridge and vein feeling like it was being imprinted inside you. Once he was half way seated, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. A faint grunt of discomfort slipped past you. Your hand gripping the nape of his neck tightly. 

He paused, looking down at you. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Keep going. I’m alright.” You promised, loosening your hold on him. He pressed a soothing kiss to your hairline before he pressed forward again. 

Having him inside you even halfway was something you would have to get used to. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the stretch and sting were fading already. Once he was fully inside, the feeling of him filling you was almost overwhelming in the best ways. Cregan gave you ample time to adjust, holding himself back from rutting into you. He never wished to harm you, even if your warm tightness was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt. 

You tested your limits by rolling your hips to meet his. A hiss left the both of you as his cock slid even deeper, hitting some part of you that had you seeing stars. “Move.” You urged, back arching to press against him. 

He drew out only to snap his hips forward, driving himself back in. Taking care to be as gentle as he could, he began a harsh but deep hitting pace. He was ardent in his lovemaking, cock thrusting into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He was keeping good on his promise to show you just how much he loved you. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips, his hand instantly going to hold it in place. Fingers lightly running across your skin. Your other leg spread wider for him, giving him as much room as you could to accommodate his size. A melody of whines and gasps flew from you with every thrust. Your nails running down the rippling strength of his back. 

His face was hidden in your neck, lips assaulting your skin. Bruising kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Teeth joining to nip here and there, leaving marks that you would deal with later. He pounded into you with equal fervor and tenderness. Cregan was nothing if not devoted in all things, so each thrust was measured to ensure he seated himself fully inside you every time. 

With the whole of Winterfell in the great hall or asleep, you worried not about concealing the volume of your moans. Needy whines and whimpers left you, one after the other. A particularly harsh snap of his hips had you stuttering out his name. You felt like you were being split in two, but it was the most pleasurable thing you’d ever experienced. 

The friction of your bodies sliding together was addicting. Each glide of his cock along your innerwalls drove you closer and closer to another peak. Walls tightening around him, drawing a muffled curse, he spoke into your neck. Your hands went to his hair once again, bringing his mouth to yours. You kissed him as his cock kissed your womb. Your lips molded together as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your thigh. 

You nipped at his bottom lips as he had done to you, causing a growl to rumble up his throat. There was urgency about him now, with his release building and building buzzing at the base of his spine. 

He dropped the hold on your thigh, planting his weight on his forearms by your head. Using the leverage to rut inside you at a faster and deeper pace. Intensity danced between you as his cock drove into you, seated fully inside you, then pulling out only to plunge back in. 

There was an almost divine feeling to being inside of you. As if Cregan was made for you and you were made for him. He had to wed you, had to say the vows beneath the Weirwood tree, and make you his wife. His Lady of Winterfell. 

He groaned at the thought, snatching your lips between his own for another blazing kiss. Teeth knocking together and tongues sliding over each other—this was not a romantic kiss. It was full of base needs and wants. The drive to claim you as his and never give another man the chance to see you like this. You were his. 

“Cregan please.” You pleaded into his mouth, your breath mingling together. He didn’t relent; your whispered appeal only spurred him on. He was aching and pulsing inside you. Cock thrusting so deeply, he vaguely pictured you struggling to walk in the morning. The thought sent a smug ripple down his spine. Your thighs were trembling, and with this being your first time taking him, you very likely will be sore. 

“Do you have another in you?” He huffed out the question. His release was just within his reach, but he wanted to feel you gush around him first. Have the tightness of your walls gripping him like steel as he pushes into you for the last time before spilling his seed. 

“Mhm.” You hummed around your harmony of whimpers and gasps. You rolled your hips to meet his as if to further prove what you wanted. The friction doing delicious things to the both of you. 

You’d lost count of how many times he’d sunk into you. It was too many to keep up with. But the look that glimmered in his eyes told you it wouldn’t be much longer until another rush of euphoria greeted you. 

His cock battered into you, his pace becoming faster than before. His hands moved from beside your head to grip your hips. Fingers sliding under to hold the small of your back, he lifted you slightly off the bed. The new angle had him hitting that spot within you that had you writhing up to meet him. Your senses became cloudy with nothing but the feeling of him inside breaking through. 

“That’s it, my girl.” He husked out, feeling you shudder beneath him as your cunt clamped down on his length. He kept up his pace, racing after his own peak. Lowering you back down to rest on the furs again, he groaned heavy and hot into your neck as he spilled inside of you. The warmth exploded at the base of his spine and spread. Keeping his hips moving to help you both ride out your pleasure, he thrusted into you a few more times. 

You whimpered as he withdrew from you, but he was quick to soothe you with a slow kiss to your lips. You fingers threaded through his brown tresses holding him to you. The display was all care and affection, a stark contrast to the intense moment between you just seconds ago.

When he rolled off you, he didn’t go far, his large form laying out beside you and drawing you to his side. His strong arm slung around you, locking you to his side. 

An easy silence fell over you as you both regained your senses. The aftermath of your coupling filled to tender caresses of hands over heated skin. Soft presses of his lips upon your jaw, making your head relax into the pillow. 

You weren’t aware of how much time passed before a halting thought crossed your mind. “Should I not leave?” You asked. Cregan furrowed his brows at you as if you were speaking in riddles. “There will surely be whispers if I am seen in your chambers in the morning,” you clarified. 

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. His hold on you becomes tighter and a touch more protective. “You will be my wife soon enough. Whatever any of my people have to say about it, they will do well to make sure I do not hear of it.” 

Completely smitten with him as well as his response, you choose not to argue. Much preferring to settle back into his warmth and spend the night caged within his arms.

I think this is the longest fic I have ever wrote, but I'm in love with it.

﹙taglist﹚@madame-fear

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

💌 next chapter

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Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 7

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 8 is here!

"Gather the troops and have them warn the public. All the infantries will be stationed here and here. The archers and cavalary-" Salauddin was sending orders to his generals. As soon as he was informed of Baldwin coming, you knew he had only limited time to make a game plan.

You didnt understand why Baldwin would come all the way here for a war. He wouldnt leave Jerusalem unarmed this way, so either he's bring half of his army while the other half protects his kingdom from invaders- which would put him at a great disadvantage against Salauddin. Or he's bringing all of his men and that means Jerusalem is practically up for grabs.

No. He wouldnt leave Jerusalem unarmed like that, so that means he's inadequately prepared for the war?

No. Baldwin's too smart. If he won against Salauddin at just 16 years, then he's definitely coming up with a plan. And it scares you to not know what he has in mind.

You looked at Salauddin who had just finished instructing his generals, as they left. He was stressed, you could see that. War. Its not a small thing. There are no true winners when there's blood shed on either side. While Salauddin does have the advantage of fighting in his home ground, that is also his disadvantage. At the end of it, his people- his Egypt will suffer.

"Y/n." Your eyes meet. "I need you to stay inside the palace. I will have guards assigned to you. If they tell you to go somewhere, follow them."

"What? No. I'm coming with."

"Have you lost your mind?"

You ignored his insult. "If Baldwin is coming for a war-" "You're gonna talk him out of it?" "I mean, its not a bad plan but I was gonna offer you to use me as a bargaining chip? That way you could avoid blood shed." You wouldn't offer to put your life in danger but since your time machine is still not ready, you need to avoid a war.

"No." He gave you a stern look. "I dont want you anywhere near him or his men. You will stay here. Listen to me for once."

"But I-"

"Y/n." He warned. You sighed before nodding. Well I could always just go out when he leaves, just like last time.

Almost as if he had read your mind, he made you follow him to a room that had no windows or any other exits besides the one door that was made of solid wood and had guards stationed outside.

"This is the safest room, Y/n. It is impenetrable." Oh no, you cant stay here.

"I think you're overreacting a bit-"

"Overreacting? Your fiance is coming over to start a war because of your crazy brother-in-law who you underestimated because you said that he's just a tool. I think I'm reacting very appropriately." He shut you up.

"I want Isabella."

"No."

"Please Salauddin, I need to keep her safe too-"

"No."

"This may be the last wish you ever grant me, so can you just agree-"

"You think I'm going to die?!" Salauddin stared at you in disbelief.

"I... I didnt say that." You tried to think of a lie. "I mean, maybe this might be the last time you see me... alive? Who knows when the angel of death pays you a visit? If we look at the statistics, between you, me and Baldwin, at least one of us going to die-"

"Stop talking." He gritted out, "Fine."

-

"Princess." Isabella wailed as soon as she entered. You let her hug you. "I missed you too, Isabella." You smiled wiping away her tears.

"I- I heard rumors of a war! Is it- his majesty coming?" The girl sniffled. You nodded.

"Its true. A war is going to happen... unless I do something about it." She blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

You held her hands and gave her your most pleading eyes. Its time for manipulation.

"I need you to get me out of here." "Why?" "Because I need to talk to my future husband out of war."

Her eyes widened. "B-but its too dangerous for you to go outside, princess!"

You sighed. "If I cant even protect people from unnecessary pain and bloodshed, then what good am I as a queen?" Yes, time for some heart breaking lines about self sacrifice. "I would rather risk my life than the lives of those who have their families waiting for them at home. I would happily fall on my own sword if it means my subjects wont have to. If I cant prevent suffering of the very people who would bleed for me, then I have no right to be the queen of Jerusalem."

-

Half an hour later, Isabella had knocked on the door for the guards to let her out.

"Sultan Salauddin has forbidden-"

"Princess Y/n from leaving. Not me. I'm her lady in waiting and the princess needs me to get her belongings so that she can write her will."

"We can have it fetched-"

"You? A common man she has no relations with- wants to touch her stuff? I dont think so." Isabelle glared at them through her niqaab (all of your maids had followed your dress code in Egypt). She didnt wait for an answer as she began walking away before a man appeared by her side. It was one of Salauddin's guards.

"What?" She snapped at him, continuing to walk.

"They sent me to walk with you and bring you back safely." He said before grinning at her. "I thought you'd be happy to see your habeebo."

"Habeebo?" She asked, reaching your room.

He caught her wrist and turned her around, gazing at her veiled face with affection. "You cant still be mad at me for leaving the other night- I had duties."

"What right do I have to be mad at you?" Isabella kept her face down, conveying she was still very much mad.

"Habeebo's habibti- you have all rights over me. You're the only woman for me." Habeebo said as he placed a hand over his heart.

Isabelle finally giggled, freeing her wrist from his grasps. "Stop... someone could walk in on us." She warned.

"So? I'm not afraid. I can do anything for love!"

"Anything?"

"Anything." He assured her.

"Then go fetch me some cold water while I pack the princesse's belongings. Hurry now, I'll be waiting for you here." Habeebo all but smiled before walking towards the kitchen, leaving Isabella alone in your room.

As soon as she was sure he was gone, she removed her veil and quickly changed her chaddar with yours.

"Thanks Isabella." You muttered as you slipped on your chaddar. Yes, you had left Isabella in the room upstairs and pretended to be her to slip out of there. She had told you about her crush Habeebo who you had also fooled into leaving you here, and youre sure that if he were to go back upstairs and find Isabella instead of you, he'd protect her. Surely.

Sneaking out of the palace wasnt a hard feat by now. What was hard was trying to figure out what way to go to find Baldwin or Salauddin, with all the people panicking as they were being constantly warned by guards about Baldwin's arrival.

You decided to go through the market and head towards the madarrasa, though you doubt Abbas is anywhere done with the parts you gave him to make. You had given a week's deadline but only because you needed him to hurry up, not because he could actually make them in such little time.

The streets were packed, shops were getting closed and people were trying to rush home to safety. You were nearing the madarrasa when you were pulled to the side in an alley.

"Y/n!" Abbas exclaimed. "Finally, I found you." You raised a brow and he grinned. "Your things are ready."

"Already?" You were in disbelief. How did he-

He puffed his chest. "Of course. I had a deadline and with the war being announced, I'm glad I made haste!" You felt hope again. If the parts are ready, all you need to do is assemble them and you can leave this timeline for once and for all, and if Baldwin and Salauddin do end up fighting each other, everything works out! You're sure that Salauddin would win by playing to his strengths, and because eventually Guy will fuck up and betray Baldwin and cause him to die. Then another crusade will happen and Salauddin will take over Jerusalem! Everyone wins.

"Well? Hand it over."

"I dont have it with me right now! I took the parts home to work on them. Lets go." You trailed behind him, the market still bustling as the air became more tensed. They're kingdom is about to be attacked and they have little to no time to prepare for it.

Soon, you reached his home. It was a cozy place, made of mud. The beige walls added onto the coolness. He lead you inside, crossing the patio. Abbas told you to wait there while he went inside a room to get your parts. While waiting, your eyes landed on a cage in the corner that had 5 doves.

"Here it is." Abbas returned with a wooden box and gave it to you.

Opening it, you saw the designs you had given him. You took the parts out and examined them. They weren't top notch, but they'll make do.

"Thank you." You handed him a pouch of gold coins. He pocketed it before raising his brows at you. "So... will you finally tell me what this is for?"

You looked up at him before taking out your time machine. Might as well assemble it here and leave as soon as possible. "I would but I'm afraid it'll go over your head." He frowned at your words before grumbling angrily under his breath before going to the doves to give them seed. Good, he should be distracted while you put these parts in.

It didnt take more than a few minutes for you to place them in. All you had to do was to put in the last key, turn it on and set the date-

"Y/n." You looked up at Abbas, not understanding his horrified expression. What's wrong? You followed his gaze and looked behind you, and there it was-

A shadow standing at the doorway of the patio.

You squinted your eyes before your heart dropped at the realisation.

Black robes, hood over the head, geared up.

Assassin.

"This is the wrong house." Abbas said with a trembling voice.

The assassin stepped forward into the light, while you and Abbas took a few steps back.

"What- what do you want?" The assassin didnt answer him, his eyes fixed on you. This is- this is not an Ismaili. They wouldnt attack alone, and especially not so soon, and not when a war hangs over their head.

The assassin took another step forward, this time you grabbed the time machine and held it closely. This made the dark figure tilt his head at you.

"Get behind me." You moved behind Abbas. "Get out of my house- this is not the time. Evacuate!" Abbas warned the guy but he didnt stop staring at you.

As soon as he took another step, Abbas grabbed a wooden stick from the side and ran towards him, only for him to be flipped over his shoulder and slammed to the ground. You took this as a sign to run but the assassin was faster, grabbing you by the chaddar as it ripped off you. Your eyes widened as he grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you back and your immediate reaction was to slap him, but he caught your wrist and pushed you back inside the patio. Abbas got up and tried to punch him, but he was knocked down back on his back in a second.

You ran, but didnt make it more than a few steps before you got tackled to the ground. You struggled to break free but the assassin had his arms wrapped around your neck, putting you in a chokehold.

Knowing Abbas couldnt come to your rescue, you clawed at the assassins hands, flailed about trying to break free from under him. But he had overpowered you, putting immense pressure until you started seeing black dots.

Just at the last moment, your eyes caught the sight of the dove cage and instinctively, you yanked the cage, hoping to hit the assassin in the head with it, but all you managed was to tip it over, the latch holding it close dropped.

And in the next moment, the doves flew out and went straight for the assassin. You wouldnt say they were attacking him, but the moment he saw them flying in his direction, he raised his hands to bat them away, which only caused him to get scratched-

You didnt stick around to find out if they clawed his face off, springing to your feet as you ran inside a room, hoping to find a window to escape.

You spot the window, quickly opening the wooden frame to leap out. Only the moment you have one foot out, you're pulled back inside and thrown against the wall.

The assassin is back, his body language conveying he's more pissed now than before.

You cant outrun him. You take a fighting stance. You know very well that you cant beat him either, but it works well to at least make him doubt that.

Maybe you could bribe him?

"What do you want?" You ask him, your fists raised. He tilted his head at your attempt to look ominous.

You glared at him. "You let me and my friend go, and I can assure you I can give you enough gold to keep you out of work forever. I am..." you pause before using your last card. "I am King Baldwin's fiance, future queen of Jerusalem. Let me go, and I'll give you anything you want."

He took another step forward and you knew you were backed into a corner so you punched him, only he caught your fist before it was anywhere near his face.

He stared at you, tightening his hold on your wrist.

"Please dont hurt me." You gulped before raising your other hand to punch him, but he caught it too. Now both of your hands were in one of his while he used the other to grab your throat and push you against the wall.

"Oh fuc-" He squeezed a pressure point on your neck until you passed out.

-

Salauddin was on his horse at the front of his army, waiting at the gates of his kingdom for Baldwin. His generals had informed him that they had placed the respective troops posted according to his plan. Everyone waited with baited breath for his command. They're ready to protect their sultan, ready to sacrifice their lives to protect their kingdom.

Salauddin heard them before he saw them.

The heavy jingle of metal armour, the marching of the horses and then he saw their cross flags. He gave a nod to his men, signalling to be prepared.

They're coming.

In all honesty, Salauddin was expecting Baldwin's army to not make it through the hot desert, since they rarely ever leave Jerusalem.

But it was still a surprise when he saw the actual size of his army.

It wasnt that much. Thought he anticipated it, after all Baldwin wouldnt have left his kingdom without some men, but now this means that Baldwin is not relying on numbers.

He's relying on strategy. And its hard to predict Baldwin's moves.

Salauddin's mouth turned into a grim line. What was he planning?

The templars lead the army to the gates of Egypt. The Muslims had their weapons ready to be drawn. Salauddin watched the Christians Knights halt.

Do they attack now?

Baldwin emerged from the masses on his horse, sporting his iron mask despite not needing it anymore. Salauddin also rode his horse to meet him halfway, knowing his generals dont appreciate him leaving.

Their horses stopped a few feet apart from each other. Everything was silent apart from the sound of warm air whooshing through the desert.

Baldwin raised his hand. Salauddin heart skipped a beat. He's going to signal them to attack-

"Salam alaikum!" Baldwin greeted with a wave.

Salauddin gave a nod. "Walaikum asalam."

Baldwin tilted his head. "Why so tense, Sal? Not happy to see me?"

"I dont like uninvited guests." He replied. Baldwin chuckled. "Of course. But we're friends-"

"Why are you here, Baldwin?"

Baldwin stared at him. No king appreciates being interrupted.

"I'm here to meet my fiancee."

Salauddin stared at him unamused. "You left the Holy Land to meet your fiancee who was going to return home soon anyways?"

Baldwin shrugged. "I missed her."

"Baldwin."

The young king sighed. "I know I should've informed you before coming but I really do want to see Y/n. I mean no harm, Salauddin." He raised his hands in surrender. "I just thought it would be a nice surprise for her. Ever since she cured me, I realised I hadnt seen the world that much, so what better location than Egypt?"

Salauddin stared at him, before his gaze fell on his army.

"Come on, Salauddin. Where's Y/n?" Baldwin asked with a goofy smile.

Salauddin's brows furrowed before he sighed. "In my palace." He nodded at his men to open the gates as he lead Baldwin in. But not before whispering to his second in command to surround the kingdom from all perimeters and be on high alert. Things can always go south.

Baldwin smirked looking at the size of Salauddin's army. "Aww, you didnt have to bring them for my warm welcome." Salauddin ignored him, knowing very well that Baldwin knew how it looked when a king comes unannounced at another king's door.

-

They soon arrived at the palace, welcomed by servants and maids who were looking at Baldwin in awe. They had heard rumors of his beauty, and when he removed his mask, they realised how huge of an understatement it was. And the fact that this young king was the one to defeat their sultan at just 16 years age, it definitely added to the charm.

But Baldwin wasnt blind to the furious gazes of his soldiers either. He just ignored them, which was easy since his mind was occupied by thoughts of you. Y/n. My princess. My angel.

What surprised Salauddin was that Baldwin hadnt come alone. No, Guy was here too which only confused him more. If Baldwin brought Guy along, then who did he leave to take care of Jerusalem? Sibylla and Guy's son was still too young to be a heir.

He did remember your theory about Guy being the one to hire the assassins to ambush you in the desert. If Guy came here despite his failed attempts to get rid of his enemies, then he's either incredibly stupid or he's well assured that he'll get away with everything.

Salauddin wont let him. He'll make Guy pay.

"I hate to rush you Salauddin, I know Muslims are knows for their hospitality but can you just lead me to Y/n's room? She is a sight for sore eyes." Baldwin requested sweetly, making Salauddin roll his eyes. He signalled a servant to bring you down.

Guy looked disgusted to be in the presence of so many Muslims, but the moment he caught sight of any maids passing by, he would be eyeing them like a piece of meat. A maid came by holding drinks in a tray. When she offered it to Baldwin and then Guy, the latter startled the poor girl by purposely touching her wrist with his grubby paws.

Salauddin gripped the armrest tightly. If he wasnt Baldwin's brother-in-law, Salauddin would've plucked his eyes out and had him whipped in public to make an example out of scum like him.

"So, when did you leave your camp outside Jerusalem? I was expecting to see you there on my way here, but there were new troops of yours instead." Baldwin asked, sipping the cool drink.

"I came here with Y/n. I had some errands that required my attention." Salauddin didnt bring up the ambush, watching both him and Guy to gauge their reactions. Did they know?

"Went on any new conquests recently?" Salauddin decided to make small talk as they waited for you. He hopes you're not taking time to get ready to meet Baldwin. He'd rather you come up covered in a chaddar when Guy is here.

Instead of allowing Baldwin to answer, Guy cut him off. "Of course! We are the noble warriors, the Chosen Ones! God wants us to conquer as much as possible, for the sake of his-"

"How dare you talk to me?" Salauddin silenced him. "I'm talking to your king. He may allow it but you're in my kingdom now. You will abide by the rules or so help me, your head will be on a spike for the crows to shit on." Guy's eyes widened and his jaw fell open. No one had threatened him like that, at least not since he married Sibylla.

Baldwin barely suppressed a smile and when Guy looked at him for help, he only shrugged. "You should listen to him. We are his guests, after all."

The servant returned with the special guards he had assigned to protect you, all looking scared.

"S-sultan... the princess-" Baldwin and Salauddin's gaze sharpened at your mention. The poor servant gulped.

"The princess is gone."

There was deafening silence. The servant had his head bowed, along with the guards, all too afraid of the wrath they're going to face.

"Gone? Gone where?" Salauddin spat as he walked upto them.

"I- I dont know-" Salauddin grabbed the guard by the collar and shook him. "I left her in a room with no windows, a room guarded by the 6 of the most skilled men. Where did she go?!"

The guard's head only lowered further. "Sultan, we only opened the door to let princess Y/n's maid in and out. B-but- but when we opened the door, the maid was waiting there instead of the princess!"

"Which maid? Where is she?!" Salauddin roared.

The guard nodded at his men who pushed a young girl forward roughly. She fell on her knees, crying pitifully. He immediately recognised her.

Isabella.

"Where's the princess?" Salauddin questioned her, only to be answered in hiccups and tears. A vein on his forehead popped. He doesnt have time for this. Who knows where you are? If you're safe-

"Isabella." Baldwin called out gently, kneeling in front of her. She sniffled and bowed her head. "Isabella, look at me." She took panicked breaths before lifting her eyes to meet his kind ones, not a a grain of anger in them.

"You know where princess Y/n is?" He asked, pushing her hair back over her ear. She shook her head, hiccuping though she wasnt bawling her heart now.

"Use your words, Isabella. Tell me what happened." Enchanted by his gentleness, she spilled, told him all about how you made her take your place so that you could go and stop you from starting a war with the sultan.

Salauddin watched the interaction closely, trying to figure out if Isabella was lying. He did note Baldwin's behabiour throughout this entire interrogation as well. For someone whose future wife is missing, Baldwin is surprisingly calm. Then again, he's rarely ever seen Baldwin lose his temper.

"Where did she go?" Baldwin questioned her once again.

"I- I dont know, your majesty. She never told me!" Isabella cried out.

Baldwin nodded before standing up, his brows furrowed as rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger.

"If Y/n was going out to stop me and she never reached the gates, then it means... she's still here." Baldwin said after some deep thought. He looked at Salauddin. "Your men have surrounded the kingdoms, havent they?"

Salauddin nodded before ordering his men to find you.

"Search every house, every place. No one gets in or out of the kingdom!" He yelled at them, watching them leave. He felt Baldwin stand beside him and out of the corner of his eye, he saw his face wasn't... too concerned.

"You know, for someone whose fiancee is missing, you're surprisingly calm." Salauddin was both stating his observation, and accusing him too. Did Baldwin know where you were?

Baldwin simply smiled, his dimples showing. "I know you will find her."

"And why is that?"

"Because if I dont have Y/n in my arms by today, then I will burn your Egypt to the ground."

-

The Templar Knights kicked down doors, rattled the poor citizens and took great glee in destroying their belongings, using you as an excuse to "search thoroughly". Salauddin's army was also rigorously working to find you, interrogating everyone for any clues on you. Then again, no one had really seen how you looked like. You were just another woman covered in a chaddar and niqaabi among a whole city of them. It would be like finding needle in a hay stack and Salauddin wasnt about to allow anyone to rip off the niqaabs off his Muslim women. He wont allow such a transgression.

Fortunately, Baldwin agreed. After all, why would you be hiding from him? You dont have a reason to, right? But still, he had to find you. So he was walking through the streets of Egypt himself to look for you.

Salauddin had joined him, and not just because he wanted to ensure the safety of his folks but also to stop Guy from provoking Baldwin by feeding him any lies.

That cretin was getting on his last nerves.

Salauddin pretended to be deaf as Guy harshly whispered to Baldwin that "How can a princess just vanish? Clearly, there's someone plotting. These Arabs must've sold her off! They dont respect women like we do-" only to be pushed away by Baldwin who told him to focus his energy on finding you.

Its been 3 hours since Baldwin's arrival and still no sign of you. Despite his best attempts, Salauddin could see Baldwin's calm demeanour chipping away. He was running out of patience.

They were now standing outside the madarrassa where all the scholars, students and staff were rounded up. Salauddin was the only one who knew about Abbas, but now that he looked at each face, he realised he was the only one missing.

Immeadiately, he sent the guards to find him. Salauddin was sure that he knew about your whereabouts, He had to.

"Who is Abbas?" Baldwin asked as they both followed the guards that had found out his residence.

Salauddin didnt miss the suspicion in his tone. As much as he wanted to toy with Baldwin, now is not the time.

"He is a craftsman. Y/n had hired him to make something for her. Maybe she went there to collect it." He purposely avoided telling him about the unique chessboard you had gifted him.

After half an hour, they had reached Abbas's residence. It wasnt all that odd to find the front door open, and truth be told, no one was expecting anyone to be home.

It was concerning to find the disasterous state of the house as they entered. Clay pots were smashed to the ground, a cage lying empty in one corner. Clearly, something had happened here.

However, something caught Salauddin's eye that made his heart sink.

Your chaddar, lying on the ground.

-

You woke up with a pounding headache. When your lids fluttered open, they first spotted the single candle in the corner of the dimly lit room. Memories of the previous events flashed through your mind and you fitted the pieces like a jigsaw puzzle.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the dimly lit room, you realised you were still in the same room the assassin had knocked you out. Not only that, but Abbas was also lying beside you, though he hadnt regained conciousness yet.

"Abbas- Abbas, wake up." You raised your hand to shake him, but your eyes caught the sight of your ripped sleeve. When- when did this-

You looked down at your clothes and realised they were all tattered too. Your niqaab was gone, you recalled the assassin had pulled off your chaddar during your escape attempt, and now that you looked at Abbas, he was in a similar state too. His clothes were torn and ripped too. But why? The assassin had already knocked you two out, he didnt need to-

You gasped, patting yourself to find your lack of belongings. Your time machine was gone, as was your jewellery an coins. You'd been robbed!

Panic surged into your veins as you violently shook Abbas, your machine was gone- your only way out of this era was gone!

"Abbas! Wake up!" But he only groaned in response. What was wrong with him?

You dont have time to wonder as you rushed to open the door. You need to catch that thief, assassin- whatever he was, before he got too far and you lost your time machine forever. Grabbing the handles, you tried to yank the door open, but it didnt even budge. Its... locked.

You whipped your head around, remembering the window you were trying to get out of earlier. Running up to it, you tried to open the wooden shutters, but they didnt move an inch. No. No. This is- this is not happening. You ran back towards the door. You felt your throat close up as you pulled the door with all your might before banging your fists against them in frustration.

You were locked in.

The thief has your time machine. He's probably gone far away with it. By the time anyone comes to your aid, he'd have fled the city. He'd be gone as Baldwin and Salauddin fight and burn Egypt to the ground. I'll be trapped here, probably die under the rubble with Abbas-

Abbas.

You look back at him, still unconscious. How hard was his head hit?

You fall back on your knees besides him, trying to wake him up. He'd know- Abbas would know how to get out of this room. He's smart, and he knows his house, probably built it himself- he'd know a way out.

"Abbas! ABBAS! Wake up! Wake up-!" You grabbed his head and laid it in your lap, turning it side-to-side to see if he was bleeding. You started to massage his temples, hoping the circulation will wake him up.

Wait. Circulation.

You recalled what they taught you in first aid class- what to do when someone faints? Raise their legs above heart level. You quickly moved and pulled his knees up until they were able to stay bent on their own, before cradling his head in your lap again, tapping his cheeks.

"Abbas- Abbas, wake up please. Abbas-! I swear if you dont wake up, I will give you a tight slap-"

You were cut off by the sound of the door being banged.

What in the-

The door shook as something hard banged against it. You jumped at the force. Did the war start already? Are they using cannonballs?

No. While cannonballs were used as heavy artillery in medieval Europe, it was more popularly used in the 1700s, but I'm still in the 1100s-

NOT THE TIME TO GEEK OUT! I'M ABOUT TO DIE-

The door burst open and light flooded into the room, blinding you for a moment. You raised your hand to shield yourself from the light before slowly bringing your hand down as you saw figures entering into the room.

Once your eyes finally adjusted, you recognised the figures in front of you.

Salauddin. Baldwin. Guy-

Guy?

All three of them stared at you, though your eyes remained focused on Baldwin, who looked at you, then at your clothes, and then... at Abbas.

The look of relief turned into confusion. What? Whats wrong?

You heard Salauddin yell something in Arabic at his soldiers, which made them instantly look away and leave the room. Baldwin kept looking at you in barely suppressed shock.

"Baldwin?" You whispered, though it was Salauddin who moved first, removing his chaddar and bending down to cover you with it, but your eyes were fixated on Baldwin's face. Why is he... looking at you like that?

Wait. If Baldwin and Salauddin are here together, then it means there's no war. Which means-

"Are you okay? What happened?" Salauddin asked you, though before you could answer him, Guy began laughing.

"Okay? She's more than okay!" He smirked. "After all, she was spending some time with her secret lover!"

Both your and Salauddin's eyes went wide. It finally clicked why Baldwin was looking at you like that.

He thinks you and Abbas-

"No. That's not true-" You tried to speak but Guy cut you off.

"Of course it is! Look at you, holding his head in your lap so sweetly!" He accused before snarling at you. "And you chose a dirty Muslim to cheat on our King? The audacity! And the lack of taste."

You shook your head. "Thats not true. This is Abbas. He's a- a craftsman-" "Oh, I'm sure you were pretty crafty with him too." Guy cut you off.

"Shut up, Guy!" You snapped. "I came to get my valuables from him. It was a gift! I had them commissioned for- for you Baldwin!" You half lied.

"And where is that gift?" Guy interrogated.

"I was robbed. We both were-" "Oh how convenient!" You glared at him. He was framing you. You pointed at your clothes. "How else do you explain the torn clothes?!"

Guy hummed and you knew you were going to regret as soon as a disgusting smile crept on his face.

"Well, animals fuck with wild passion-"

"I WAS ROBBED!" You yelled. "Look, the thief even knocked out Abbas!"

"I dont see a head injury." Guy shrugged. "I just think he's passed out from drinking. Or maybe his stamina wore out-"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Your face was red with rage, though to anyone else it may have looked like you were caught red handed in a lie. You calmed yourself down. You need to explain before things got worse.

"Baldwin, I'm not having an affair with Abbas. He's married-" Once again, Guy cut you off, this time waving his hands. "My king, it doesnt matter to these Muslims. They're into polygamy. Whats one wife, when you can have four?"

Of all the things, this is the one thing he knows about Islam?

You didnt detect one, not a single emotion of trust or love from Baldwin's stoic face. Is he- is he actually believing this bull?

Why wouldnt he? He's a man after all. And who knows what other lies Guy has been filling his head with to make him doubt your loyalty?

Enough is enough. You need to come clean.

"You know what Guy? I was going to keep this a secret to let you beg for forgiveness, but I think its time for the truth, hm?" You watched Guy's smirk falter. Enough games. You stared at Baldwin with determination. "Here's what has happened Baldwin: Charlotte didnt just happen to drop by Jerusalem. No, Guy summoned her by pretending to be you. Oh and I have that exact letter where Guy used your respectful name as proof. Guy exploited Charlotte and his plan was to use her and her son's illness to infect you so that you could die and he could get your throne."

Guy's face paled. But you didnt stop there.

"Of course, when that didnt work because you and I have an unbreakable bond, Guy decided to get rid of me." You looked at Salauddin. "When I left for Egypt and I was at Salauddin's camp, he had hired assassins to ambush us in the dead of the night and kill me or Salauddin, or both! If I were to die while I was with Salauddin, he would've convinced you that Salauddin was the one who killed me. And if Salauddin was dead, then it meant good news for Guy because he would have to deal with one less enemy after he took your throne."

"Lies! There's no proof-"

"No proof? Baldwin, did you realise that more than half of my entourage was missing? Its because they're dead. And if that isnt enough proof, then this might help-" You pulled up your sleeves to show your fading burn marks. "My back is full of these marks because the assassins left me to die in a burning tent. It was Salauddin who saved me!"

"And today? When we heard you were coming, everyone thought that there will be a war. I left the palace on my own, to find you Baldwin. I wanted to stop you from committing unnecessary bloodshed! I came to Abbas's house to get my gift for you, but Guy sent a thief after us! The thief knocked us out and he robbed us both!" You explained. "Didn't you ever wonder Baldwin- why Guy decided to accompany you today? Guy has never left Jerusalem, not even for a war, not to defend his people. He wouldnt leave the throne empty! He hopes, he prays and he plots for you to die everytime you leave Jerusalem so that he can finally be king!"

"BLASPHEMOUS!" Guy screamed, red in the face. "You wench-!"

"With all due respect Guy, which is NONE! I didnt think you would be smart enough to come up with such schemes. I underestimated you, which turned out to be mistake because you made Baldwin doubt me!"

Guy shook his head and stood in between you and Baldwin, acknowledging the stoic faced king first. "This is slander! All lies, Baldwin! I'm your brother-in-law! I would never betray you!"

"Never betray Baldwin? You aren't even loyal to Sibylla! I could have more than half of Jerusalem attest to that you've tried sleeping with other women! Adulterer!" Guy's eyes practically popped out of his socket and he screeched.

"You dare accuse me of cheating?! YOU?! You're the one who is locked in a dark room with a strange man in your lap like a fucking whore!" Not risking Baldwin's suspicion, Guy stormed towards you with his hand raised to strike you.

"You unfaithful, lying bitch-!" You heard the air being sliced and you flinched as you felt something splatter across your cheek.

Thud.

You looked down to where the sound came from.

Guy's head dropped in front of you.

Your ears began ringing. Slowly, your eyes trailed back up to where his body remained.

Headless body. That fell to its knees before dropping to the side.

You could hear the ringing get louder.

Baldwin stood there, his eyes full of rage, his hand holding his sword that had just cut off Guy's head.

He was breathing heavily, nostrils flared and a vein popped in his temple. Your heart dropped as his eyes landed on you and he moved towards you.

Your consciousness finally gave out.

Salauddin caught you but not for long as Baldwin made his way to you. Fearing for you, Salauddin tried to bargain for your life.

"Baldwin, she didnt-"

"Let her go. Now." Baldwin commanded, throwing Abbas's head off your lap. He didnt wait for Salauddin to move, simply taking you from his arms, ripping off the chaddar and replacing it with his cloak instead, before picking you up.

"Lets go home." He whispered in your ear before kissing your temple, pulling you snug against him as he walked out of the room.

-

You wake up to the feeling something wet on your legs. You jolt, eyes snapping open as you look for your potential assaulter-

"Isabella?" You croaked as you saw the young girl at the foot of the bed, her face red and eyes swollen from all the crying.

"P-princess." She greeted tearfully, holding a wet towel in her hand. Her lips wobbled as she spoke, nose bright red, sniffling as she stared at you with those big sad eyes.

"What's wrong?" You couldnt help but be soft with her. She just- she looked so pitiful.

She looked down, her hands clutching the towel tightly. "You- you were- you were gone for so many hours. I- I didnt know where you were- his majesty and the sultan- they were so mad- they were so concerned- i- i didnt think they believed me when I said I didnt know- where- where you were- i thou-thought you were-" Her tears cut off her hiccuping explanation. You didnt think she would be this distraught over you.

"Its... its okay, Isabella. You didnt do anything wrong. I'm... fine." You tried to calm her down, beckoning her forward. You sat up on the bed, taking the rag from her hands before holding her hands in yours. Giving them a gentle squeeze, you assured her. "I'm fine, Isabella. In fact, I should apologise for causing you all the trouble-" She shook her head. "No- princess- its my duty to serve-" You gave her hands another squeeze, calming her down.

"Thank you- oh. Isabella-" You looked at her hands, noticing something red peeking from her wrist. You pulled her sleeve up, realising that the redness was from the welts on her arms. "What happened?" You asked, turning her wrist around, noticing a small scratch.

She pulled her hands away, pulling down her sleeves as she sniffled. "N-nothing to worry about, princess-"

"Did you get injured? Are you okay?" She nodded. "I just- when I heard you were missing, it made me worry too much and I- I tend to scratch my arms when I'm stressed!"

You gave her sympathetic look, grabbing the cool towel from earlier and handing it to her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Isabella. Here- take this. It'll help your skin, hm?"

"But the king asked me to wipe your sweat with this-"

"Its fine- wait? What sweat?"

She nodded. "We've been travelling through the desert for some days. His Majesty suggested I be the one to wipe you clean while you were unconscious." Now that you looked around, you realised you were in a tent, much different in design to Salauddin's.

Wait, desert?

"We've left Egypt?"

"Yes-"

She stopped speaking as soon as the sound of footsteps filled the room.

You stiffened at the sight of Baldwin.

Isabella had to only take one look at his face before taking her leave. Events of the last time you had seen him flashed through your mind, and you couldnt help but be scared of him when you remembered the murderous look on his face as he killed Guy. It is one thing to know that a king has killed people, perhaps even more brutally than this but after spending so many months with Baldwin, you had become accustomed to his soft nature. Never in your worst nightmares could you have ever imagined such a barbaric actions from him, and to his own brother-in-law.

It made you question everything, your own mortality- your own safety with him.

"How are you feeling?" He had his arms crossed behind his back as he made his way towards you. It took everything for you to not flinch back and beg for your life. No- no, you need to think smartly. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldve gotten rid of you back there-

Or maybe he has decided to torture you.

"I'm fine." You replied weakly, keeping your eyes on your lap. You dont want to risk pissing him off.

Maybe I should apologise, clear the air before he has any other doubts about me.

"I'm sorry." You said abruptly, finally looking up at him. His stoic expression didnt falter. This is not the Baldwin you knew, no. This was the king you had imagined when you first came here. Stiff and apathetic.

Taking his silence as a sign, you continued. "I'm sorry... for everything. For hiding the truth about Guy, for causing misunderstandings, for making you doubt me-"

"I never doubted you." He cut you off.

Your brows raised in surprise. He sighed sitting down on the bed besides you.

"I never doubted you, Y/n. Not once." He said with conviction."I didnt doubt you when Salauddin said you'd be with Abbas. I didnt doubt you when Guy raised false allegations. I didnt doubt you when I saw you in that dark room alone with that man. You could've been naked in there and I still would not have doubted you."

Your lips parted. What... what was he-

"You trust me? That much?" You couldn't help but whisper.

He smiled sadly. "I do. And more than that, I trust in my love for you." Baldwin looked down at his hands, still smiling gently. "I love you so deeply that I know you would never betray me. I have loved you the way I want someone to love me. My love for you... it is free of impurity, of imperfection. And thats how I know you would never betray me."

You couldnt help the tears that came in your eyes, and you looked down. How could he- how could he-

"If anyone should apologise, it should be me, Y/n." Your head snapped back at him. He was looking at you with genuine guilt. "I may have loved you deeply but I have failed to express it to you. Had I- had I done a better job, had I let you know just how much I feel for you, you wouldn't have hesitated to come to me. You wouldn't have felt the need to hide your traumas, your pain from me. You wouldn't have felt shy to get my help, to tell me your secrets. All of this could've been avoided if I had made you feel secure enough to come to me. I alone am responsible-"

"Baldwin." Your teary voice cut him off. You shake your head, sniffling at him. "This- this isnt your fault- I-"

"You did nothing wrong." He assured you, holding your hand. "Traps were set for you, but it was my job to save you from them. I am your protector, your shield. I owe my life to you. I owe everything to you."

A tear slipped from your eye. "I- I didnt think you'd save me. I thought you didnt trust me- I thought I lost you forever." You dont know why you said that, but they were true.

"I would've found you. I will always find you." Baldwin cupped your cheek, he felt his heart break at your confession.

"If I don't go to you Y/n, then where do I go?" And at that, the dam you'd been holding finally broke.

Baldwin immediately pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you as you buried your head into his shoulder, sobs wracking your entire being. You dont know why you're crying, whether its because of Baldwin's pure love for you, or that Guy is dead because of you and you've ruined the timeline, or because you're mourning the loss of your time machine and its just dawning on you that you're stuck here forever.

He patted your back, rocking you gently like a child. "All my paths lead to you, Y/n. All my conquests bring me to you. Everything leads to you." He kissed your cheek, his hand petting your hair smoothly as you broke down in his arms. "You... you are the beginning and end of my everything."

Baldwin pulled you away and wiped your tears away with his thumbs. "I love you, Y/n. And I know you love me too. You may not say it, but I know deep down in your heart, you love me. I know you do-"

"I love you, Baldwin." You said.

His eyes went wide. "You don't have to say it-"

"I love you, Baldwin. I really do." You admitted.

Baldwin's shock was replaced with joy, a grin gracing his face as he cupped your face and kissed your forehead deeply.

"You have no idea how happy you've made me." He whispered before pulling you into his embrace.

-

Following this, you both began your journey back to Jerusalem. Every now and then, you'd start crying again because you'd realised just how much you were loved by Baldwin. You remembered the time when you saw him with Charlotte and you didn't give him a chance to explain. You had already decided that he was a cheater, he was disloyal. Yet when the tables were turned, when everything pointed against you and Baldwin had every right to find you disloyal, have you punished for even being in a locked room with another man, he trusted you. He didn't question your love for him. And even if you didn't love him back then, you respected him enough, both as a king and as a man and he still didn't ask for an explanation, let alone accuse you of adultery.

The rest of the trip home was spent with you crying and Baldwin consoling you like a toddler. No matter how many times your tears fell, he was right there to wipe them away and assure you that you did nothing wrong.

Did you love Baldwin? Maybe not back then, but you do now. Perhaps he was right. Maybe you did love Baldwin deep down, you just didn't know it.

And it's not like you don't have a choice either way. With your time machine lost, you can't leave this place. So, you've accepted your fate and agreed to marry him. Baldwin says the wedding preparations are mostly complete and the wedding day is on Sunday.

Today is Friday, when you both finally reach Jerusalem. It didn't dawn on you until now just how you were going to face Sibylla, the woman whose husband was killed because of you.

But Baldwin already had a plan. "Guy was buried in an unmarked grave outside of Egypt. I have instructed my knights to inform everyone that Guy had died a dishonourable death because he was a traitor to the crown."

"Traitor to the crown?"

He nodded. "I'll tell Sibylla I caught him cheating on her and plotting against me." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Its believable. She'll be upset, but she'll get over it. Besides, she deserves better than him. I have already found a list of suitors for her."

He truly has thought of everything.

-

Sibylla as expected was the grieving widow and after she welcomed you and Baldwin, she excused herself and left. You pitied her, she really did love Guy despite all his shortcomings. But she also respected her brother.

After a quiet dinner, you had returned to your room. You sat on your bed as you thought over the events of the past few days. Baldwin had assured you that he doesnt hold any hostility towards Salauddin. In fact, to further put your mind at peace, he told you that he had invited Salauddin to the wedding. As for Abbas, Baldwin said he doesnt know what happened to him but he's sure Salauddin didnt harm the man.

"Did you ever find your family?" Baldwin had asked earlier. You shook your head, telling him that you mistaken someone you thought was family.

"I know you would prefer to have the Nikkah first, before our actual wedding, but I wasnt able to find someone to marry us off in the Islamic way. But then-" He grinned, almost proud of himself. "I decided who better than Salauddin?! Since he'll be arriving on the day of the ceremony, he could walk you down the aisle and then later that day, he could do the Nikkah for us!" You could only smile and agree, what difference does it make what ceremony happens first? You're stuck here either way, and you're gonna be his wife soon.

You sighed and got up to dress into something more comfortable. As you removed your clothes, your hand found something in your underclothes.

The key.

You fiddled with it. Its useless now. The thief probably has broken your machine or sold it and it could be anywhere in the world now, also useless without this key here.

You put it back in your underclothes. Perhaps it'll be of use you can craft your machine again one day.

Lying in your bed, you thought about Guy. You didnt feel guilty, no. He had it coming, and it really was a matter of you versus him at the end. But what bothers you is how much you had underestimated him.

Guy's plan was perfect. There was no chance of escape for you. He had ambushed you and Salauddin, and when you narrowly escaped that attack, he brought Baldwin to Egypt to cause misunderstandings between him and Salauddin. And when they found you with Abbas, all his allegations were perfectly said. You're only here because Baldwin was far too much in love with you. He had no reason to not take Guy's words over yours.

You turned to your side and closed your eyes.

Perhaps God saved me.

-

Today is Saturday and Sibylla had taken you to get your dress fitted.

"Whats that?" You pointed at the huge frame, covered by silk as the servants struggled to hang it on the wall.

"Oh, you're not supposed to see it yet, but Baldwin had commissioned a portait of you. He wants to gift it to you tomorrow, so dont peek. He'd hate to miss your first reaction." She explained.

"You look... absolutely stunning." Sibylla praised as she looked at you in awe. She brought some jewellery to pair with your white gown. A diamond necklace, tear drop earrings, and-

The ring.

"Its the-"

"The exact same ring!" Sibylla finished for you, slipping it on your finger. "After yours was stolen by that thief in Egypt, Baldwin had the same ring made again by the royal jeweller within a day!" Your heart warmed at the gesture. Baldwin must've known you felt guilty over losing his family ring.

"Isabella, will you pass me the veil?" You asked. Isabella brought the soft veil and helped you wear it. As she was adjusting it, your eyes caught sight of her hands again.

"Oh, they didnt heal?" You gently grabbed her hands, taking note of the same red welts on her arms again. She pulled her hands from your grasp away.

"N-no, they healed princess. Its just- its that I'm stressed again! Thats why my skin is itchy and I- scratched them raw."

"Stressed? By what?" You asked.

"Oh- um, the wedding." She muttered. "Its- its not that I'm not excited for it, I am very happy for the union of you and His majesty, but its just we have very little time and there's so much to do-"

You giggled, nodding at her understandingly. "I see. Well, I apologise for causing you to stress. And I hope you know how much I appreciate your efforts."

"Its my honour to serve you, princess." She squeaked.

"Well, do get those checked out soon, Isabella. I dont want you getting sick." Sibylla advised the young girl who bowed her head before taking her leave.

Sometime later, after you had lunch with Baldwin, you decided to go to the gardens and... be by yourself for a while.

Planned or not, I'm getting married tomorrow. This will be my last day as a single woman and I... I should savour every moment left.

You were sitting in a cozy little spot in the royal garden. It was besides the huge bush maze, near the area where your time machine had first gotten burned by the maids accidentally. Speaking of maids, the small entourage had given you space and were standing near the maze, away from your eyes with some knights. They were all eager to please you, the future queen, if only to get a better status by you or Baldwin.

But you had already decided to make Isabella your lady-in-waiting. She deserves it, for everything she's done for you.

You laid down on the soft bed of grass, looking up at the sky as you wondered what will happen tomorrow. Well, nothing about the wedding, Sibylla had made you rehearse several times that you knew exactly how the ceremony will go tomorrow. No, you were curious about... how your wedding will impact the future.

Will you cease to exist? Will the world change because the crusades might not happen since a Christian king married a Muslim commoner? Will there-

Doves flew up in the sky. You smiled, recalling the doves in Abbas's house. You hoped he was alright now. Maybe he could attend the wedding-

Wait.

You sat up with a jolt at the realisation, heart beating fast as you connected the dots.

-

Isabella rushed to the gardens. A servant had told her that you had immediately summoned her. Fearing the worst, she hiked up her gown and ran as fast as she could.

She was out of breath by the time she found you. "You called for me, princess?" She gasped out. You hummed, standing beside a gilded cage of doves.

"Arent they so beautiful?" You asked her, beckoning her to come forward. "They are indeed." She agreed, standing beside you.

"I was thinking of releasing them tomorrow, outside the chapel. All the maids could hold them in their hands and release them as I walk out with the king. What do you think?"

She nodded. "Wonderful idea. I'll go and have it arranged-"

"Hm? Oh, I took care of that. Why dont you open the cage and hold this one for me?" You smiled at her as you made you took a few steps back. "And gloves off, Isabella. I want to see how you will look like tomorrow."

Isabella throat ran dry, She gulped looking at you, then at the cage before back at you.

"I- I cant hold the doves, princess. They'll slip out of my hands-"

"We have plenty here for you to practise. Dont worry. Now make haste." You crossed your arms in front of you and looked at her expectantly.

She parted her lips to say something, but then looked back at the cage. "Whats the matter? Dont know how to hold them?" You sighed before making your way back to the cage. "They're just tiny little birds, gentle ones really. They wont bite you, so I dont know why you fear them. Here, let me show you how to hold one." You opened the cage and carefully held the dove in your hands, petting it softly. "There, there."

You suddenly thrusted the bird in her direction, and Isabella jumped back. "What's the matter? Scared of birds?"

Isabella hesitantly nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry princess- I- I- dont like birds. I'm very much afraid of them." You nodded understandingly, before placing the bird back in the cage. "How very inconsiderate of me. Very well, off you go." Isabella bowed graciously and was about to leave when you suddenly grabbed her arm and rubbed a feather along her exposed arm.

"P-princess-!" She shrieked, trying to yank her arm out of your grasp but your grip didnt relent.

"Would you look at that?" You grinned looking at the area turning bright red. "Are you itchy now? Did I stress you too much?"

Isabella could only look at you in horror as you became angry.

"How stupid do you think I am?" You snarled before throwing her hand down. "That itchy red skin wasnt from stress, it was from birds!" Her eyes widened.

"You had me thinking that your tears, your red skin, your snotty sniffles was because you were soooo concerned for me. But you actually had the rose fever from birds!" You recalled seeing the scratch on her hands the day you had first seen her skin, which wasnt just random skin welts. They were hives, from her allergy to avian protein (or birds, in simple terms).

Isabella could only look at you in silence as you continued. "How long did you think you could keep this charade up? Did you honestly think I wouldnt find out?!" She kept quiet while you continued, which only made you angrier.

"It was you. You were the thief. You- only you knew when I would leave the palace. You followed me! And you stole from me?!" When she didnt speak, your threatened her.

"Say something before I tell the king how you attacked me!"

Isabella looked up, and she smirked.

"You have no proof."

You looked at her in disbelief. Instead of defending herself, denying all the things- she basically admitted to it all.

"Isabella, where are my belongings?" You asked her. "If you return my things, I wont let you stay here, but I will let you leave this castle on your two feet." You didnt bother asking her why she did it, you cant waste any more time. You need to get your time machine back.

She shrugged, playing with her nails. Now that she was caught, she didnt bother putting up her scared, demure little girl image. "It doesnt matter. You will never get it. And you're not getting rid of me either. After all, you have no proof of any of the things you accused me of."

"You think you're going to get away with it?" She hummed. "I already have, princess. Now, I will be returning to my duties to prepare for you wedding tomorrow. And I think we'll do no birds-"

You pulled out a knife, silencing her. She looked at the knife before smiling. "Are you really going to kill me? Did you forget how I overpowered you and Abbas back there?"

"I havent." You bring the knife up to your throat. "But if you dont tell me where my belongings are this instant, I will slit my throat and let you explain to the king how you killed me. Oh and you may think you can just sneak out of here, but remember, there's a whole entourage who saw you come here. They'll tell Baldwin you were the last person to see me, and then no matter where you run, Baldwin will hunt you down. Him and his Templar knights."

Her brows furrowed at your threat. "Princess, I dont-"

"Dont think for a moment I wont do it, Isabella. I'm mental." When she remained quiet, you pressed the blade harder into your neck, just enough for the skin to break and blood to pour, making her eyes wide.

"Okay! Okay- stop! I'll tell you."

-

Isabella lead you to a room inside the castle, hidden away in a corner. You had never been here before, you realised when you stepped inside. She pulled out a drawer from the desk, which had a false floor in it. Lifting the wooden panel, you saw all your belongings, including your time machine.

"Leave." You ordered her. Once you were alone, you pulled out the key from your underclothes and placed it inside. Saying a tiny prayer, you turned on the machine.

It worked. The tiny lights turned on. All you had to do was set the date and-

The machine was snatched from your hands. "Isabella drop-!" Your eyes widened at the sight of Baldwin holding the machine.

"What are you doing?" He asked you, looking at the machine.

"Baldwin, please give it back-"

"This?" He shook the machine in his hands. "Sure, you can have it." He smiled at you before bashing the machine to the ground.

"BALDWIN NO! STOP!" You tried to stop him, but Baldwin pushed you away and kept smashing the machine until its lights went out and they key broke.

"NOOOOO!" You finally snatched it from his hands but it was too late. The screen wouldnt turn on, wouldnt display the date no matter what you did. The key was broken.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" You cried out.

"What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you?!" Baldwin yelled. "What were you going to do with that? Leave me, the love of your life, to go where?! Back to heaven?!"

Heaven? No fucking way-

"Do you- do you actually think I'm an angel?" Oh god. The look on his face was enough to let you know that he was actually serious.

"You can deny it all you want, but I am your husband to be and you cannot lie to me! You appeared out of nowhere in my castle. You cured me, you brought that baby back to life and you have escaped death one too many times! You may think I'm a fool, but I'm the king of Jerusalem, head of the Church and you were sent to me by God Himself! YOU ARE MINE AND I WILL NOT LET YOU GO BACK!"

Oh God. Oh God, you're marrying a crazy person.

Wait.

"How did you know I was here?" Your brows knitted together when he didnt reply, still looking at you in rage. "Did Isabella-" You gasped.

Of course. OF-FUCKING-COURSE!

"She wasnt a thief. She was a spy!" You chuckled humourlessly. "All this time, I thought Guy was behind it all, but I knew- I knew he was too dumb to come up with such a plan. It was you! It was always you! You sent the Ismailis after me! You sent Isabella after me to steal my belongings and spy on me! You set me up with Abbas so that when you "saved" me, I'd fall for you! Oh and I'm sure you made it seem like Charlotte was also here because Guy had called her. You framed Guy just so that you could have an excuse to get rid of him!"

"I did it because I love you!"

"You hurt me because you loved me?" You whispered to him, tears flowing down your cheeks. "I almost burned to death because of you. And you say- no. Why did you do this, Baldwin? Why the hell did you do all this?!"

"I was- I was testing you." He answered, bending down on his knee to cup your face. "I... only wanted to see if you would come to me for help. If you truly trusted me, loved me enough to come to me." He wiped your tears away. "I'm sorry it had to happen this way, but it worked out in the end-"

"You dont test the people you love, Baldwin."

"Oh, come on. Even God tests his strongest believers-"

"YOU ARE NOT GOD!" You shrieked, pushing him away.

"I'm not, but I'm special to Him. He made you for me. He gifted you to me. He made you fall in love-"

"I dont love you!" You cried. "I can never love you! Never!"

Baldwin's face hardened. "You do love me. You said so yourself. Now, youre just saying nonsense out of hysterics. Calm down-"

"I hate you. I have never loathed anything as much as I loathe you. I would never love you, even if you were the last man on Earth. I fucking hate you."

Baldwin stared at your red face. "Well, I hope you can change your mind because we will be getting married tomorrow regardless." He tried to touch your face but you slapped his hand away. "Besides, I love you enough for the both of us."

-

Its Sunday. You were locked in your room with a whole infantry ordered to not let you out. You had cried the entire night at your loss, at your fate, at your stupidity. How could you have ever trusted Baldwin? And now you will have to marry this religious lunatic.

The maids did their best to dress you up and tried to mask your red, swollen eyes. And with Isabella in the room, you were sure she had told them to not comment at your pitiful state.

You were standing outside the chapel with Salauddin. Everything seemed to blur, the choir singing, the attendees- you couldnt focus on anything.

"Y/n." You finally looked up at Salauddin, who was looking at you with deep concern. "Are you okay?" He asked you, noticing your teary eyes and dull expression.

"No."

He wasnt expecting you to answer bluntly.

"Do you want to marry Baldwin?" He whispered.

"No."

"I can help you-"

"No." You sniffled. "No one can."

The knights stood outside the chapel doors, waiting for you to enter. A few ladies held your trail behind you. Salauddin cast a glance at them before passing you something in your hand discreetly.

"Abbas asked me to give you this."

You opened your palm to see-

A key.

The key!

But how did he make this? You never designed it-

You smiled. That genius. He must've used the other parts to figure out the design and crafted it.

Abbas, I'm sorry I dont give you enough credit.

"Give him my thanks. And a lot of money, hm?" Salauddin could only nod in confusion. You looked back at your ladies. "I need to pee." Their eyes widened at the use of such crass language, especially in front of the sultan.

"But princess, the ceremony is about to start-"

"Would you rather I pee in my gown?" You snapped.

"But there is no bathroom here-"

"Then be useful and find a sheet and a bush. Now!" They all scrambled away to find some bush. You looked at the knights in front of you. "Go inside and inform them of a delay. The princess has to take a shit."

They looked hesitant to leave. "I'm not taking off my underclothes in front of you men. LEAVE!" They hurriedly went inside and closed the door to give you privacy.

You looked at Salauddin. "Can I borrow your horse?" He nodded, helping you up on it.

"Where are you going? I'll come with."

You shake your head. "No. I have to go alone. And I suggest you go inside as well."

"Y/n-"

"Please, Salauddin. No more questions. I dont want to lie to you." You smiled at him.

Salauddin reluctantly went inside the chapel, and you rode the horse out of there. There was only so long before Baldwin realised you had left, so you needed to speed things up. Grateful that you had swapped your broken time machine during your heated argument with Baldwin. You placed the new key in, just as you heard the sound of galloping horses and Baldwin-

"Y/N!" You didnt pay attention as you sped off ahead, only stopping when you reached the edge of the cliff. Climbing down, you looked at your machine as you turned the key.

It didnt turn on.

No. No. No-

"Y/N! GET BACK HERE!" Baldwin yelled at you, getting off his horse as he made his way. His troops had surrounded the area so you couldnt escape.

You looked back at your time machine and you- you banged it with your hand. "Come on. Come on!" This had to work- you banged on it as you would bang on a TV set when it stopped working, on a remote when it didnt operate quite right.

"Did you think you could escape me?!" You looked up and Baldwin was a few feet away.

"Baldwin stop!" You took a step back, nearing the cliff. "I'll jump-I'll fucking jump, I swear!" He halted.

"Dont be stupid, Y/n. Come to me, and we can put this behind us-"

You banged on the machine, cutting him off.

The machine turned on.

You grinned as Baldwin stared at you, shaking his head. "Dont-"

You jumped, pressing the button and hoping you returned to your time. You hadnt been able to set the date cause of the broken buttons.

The last thing you heard was Baldwin screaming your name.

So what do you guys think? Yall better comment and send asks and reboots because i sacrificed lunch and dinner for this.

Also, what do u guys think will happen in the next part? Do you think she'll return home or to a new timeline??? And which era???👁👁

PART 8 is here!

[just-a-ghost00]

A glimpse at your FS

Group 1

Channeled songs : Youtiful - Stray Kids, Mon Amour - GEMINI, Life goes on - AGUSTD Cards : 8 of pentacles, 2 of wands, Temperance, The Wildling, The Outlaw, Love

Lives at a distance from you, cultural differences, likes to travel for fun.

Apogender (doesn't relate to the notion of gender and has no defined gender, doesn't care about what gender people attribute to them) / genderfluid looks / unisex clothing.

Successful at their work place, feels like they can't be themselves at work.

Closed heart chakra, isn't ready to open up to other people.

Longs for deep connections, very sociable but always feels lonely, only has a small number of "friends". Has a very unconventional view of relationships and love or feels like they can't find their match romantically. Feels like an outcast.

Likes to go on long walks, enjoys spending time alone, tends to keep people at arms length.

Chris / Chan from Stray Kids vibes.

Possible meaningful locations : East Asia / Central Asia / Europe / North Africa / Latin America

Developped 5D connection, astral travelling, connecting through dreams or receiving messages from them at night because of time difference.

Very patient in relationships, longs for someone who can understand them but also call them out when needed.

Looks for fun and surprising connections in which they can feel safe and free to be themselves.

They want someone that will be loyal and trustworthy but will keep them on their toes.

Extras : Sagittarius, Gemini, numbers 2/5/8/14, snakes, masks, knives, crosses, blades, cactus, steampunk, boots

💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️

Group 2

Channeled songs : Connected - Bangchan, Comflex - Stray Kids, Lose my breath SKZ version Cards : 2 of pentacles rx, The Star, King of pentacles, The Alchemist, The Seeker, The Explorer

Possible careers / hobbies : arts / influencers / modeling

Well established, possibly famous or at least people in their field look up to them. High status, very experienced.

High level manifestor, high achiever in all areas of life except for love. They have a lot of knowledge and a lot of skills but when it comes to love they're a noob.

Game of Thrones references, especially Jon Snow vibes ("You know nothing Jon Snow").

You are already aware of who they are and they are aware of your existence but they're either ignoring the signs or downright ignoring you. They're not ready and/or they're scared of the connection.

You both have been manifesting this connection. While you are expectant and wanting to move forward with them, they are freaking out because they were not expecting you so soon.

Their energy is all over the place. They're engaged in a lot of projects, events, activities. They don't have time in their schedule to have a love life on top of that.

You throw them off their balance because you're everything they could ever wish for and they were not expecting to be able to have their wish granted, because whether they want to admit it or not this person has been manifesting you and praying for you.

They have a flirty, social butterfly type of energy. They have been indulging in connections, looking out for their person only to find out that they weren't the one. They've done nothing but flirting. They noticed very quickly that this wasn't gonna work so they quickly gave up. They were a busy bee, flying from flower to flower, never really finding their kind of nectar.

They are very spiritual, though they are constantly working on their material life. They receive a lot of downloads from their guides.

A part of them doubts the connection. They feel like it's too good to be true. Also they're too conscious of the differences between you. They're scared of the public opinion.

Extras : letters C/S/T, numbers 2/8/17, wolves, stars, crows, ravens, hands, bracelets and rings, compass, teeth, cranes, Aquarius, difference of status, overseas

💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️💙✨️

Group 3

Channeled songs : Comflex - Stray Kids, Comfortable - H.E.R, Mon Amour - GEMINI Cards : Underworld rx, destruction rx, Speak truth, knight of cups, queen of swords, The Star

Recently got out of a dark night of the soul / depression.

Is learning to set boundaries and express their truth without fear of being rejected.

Very giving and fair person that only wishes to connect with and love people but life has given them a hard time. They find it hard to believe that people can be genuinely nice to them with no ulterior motive.

They tend to hide their emotional side more nowadays because they're afraid of being taken advantage of. They might be neurodivergent or struggle with ASD.

They are very feminine in their energy. They are deeply connected to their emotions to the point that it can often overwhelm them. They are deeply empathetic and sympathetic. They can sometimes feel other people's pain as if it were their own.

Highly spiritual, highly emotionally intelligent person but also very clever, witty, often sarcastic.

Huge Scorpio vibes.

Will Graham vibes.

Has a hard time being vulnerable with other people, struggles with the notions of intimacy and beauty. Yet, they're extremely beautiful inside and out.

Has a very clear and charming voice. Enjoys singing, chatting about their interests.

Possible careers / hobbies : psychic / healer / doctor / teacher / music / writing poetry / influencer / fishing / research / sharing knowledge

Lives at a distance from you, possibly near an important body of water.

Though they wish for romance, they're not really looking at potential partners and they don't put themselves out there. They're waiting for the right person to just show up out of nowhere, like some kind of white rabbit coming out of a hat.

They have the potential of being a very important public figure, maybe even being super famous but they don't believe in themselves enough at this moment to reach that potential. They're not really interested in fame but I feel it is part of their destiny. They're on their way to manifest greater success.

Alice in Wonderland vibes, only they're the Mad Hatter when people think they're the innocent and naive "little girl" chasing after rabbits. People tend to underestimate their power.

Extras : Gemini, Aquarius, letters C / S, numbers 8/17, long hair, water, owls, hands, scars, wings, crosses, cranes, horses, swords, long and flowy dresses, jewelry

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[crypticminx]

Hi! I loved ur telling Felix if pregnant fic so could we get a p2? Maby e Felix helping reader a morning sickness. Just fluffy ❤❤

Hi my angel!!! here you go! Xoxo

Pregnancy with Felix ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

AN: part two to my headcanons, very fluffy xoxo

- Felix would grow to be exceedingly close and overbearing of you at all times–all within good reason, of course. You felt incredibly tired? No problem, his usual disorganized bed would be neatly prepped and cozy for you with a cup of tea waiting on his night side table. Morning sickness? He was behind you as you would throw up all of your unpleasant remains from the previous night, holding back your silky hair while he gently circled his palm along your sore arched back in soothing motions

- Felix would favor sleeping in with you even if that foolishly resulted in the ignorant academic missing his first morning class, but you were immensely important to him in comparison to his repetitive lectures. He’d wrap you deeply into his chest, entangling both of your legs and arms to construct some sort of warmth from each of your bare bodies. When you’d finally close your eyes to try and regain your interrupted rest, Felix would slide his hand down to just below your ribs and on your abdomen. Though you were barely showing, he could already feel some sort of connection to what was inside of you and it made him feel affectionately sympathetic. Most of all, it made him cherish you even more and from that moment onward, he was destined to continue to treat you in a way that differentiated him from any other sort of love you had ever received.

- It would be too soon for the two of you to move into Saltburn, a manageable idea Felix came up with on a whim upon the two of you trying to discuss the reality of your soon to be future that included a baby. Felix, who terribly wished he could stay with you to attend to your doting needs at every passing hour of each day, still had his classes to attend. You would carefully decide not to continue any further studies, withdrawing yourself from all your classes. Much to your angry parents dismay as they harshly yelled at you once the whole truth unraveled from your apologetic mouth through the lines of a telephone in an empty hallway. They were far away, convenient enough for you, but hearing their harsh tones of pure disappointment made you mentally feel like you had been hit by a bus; paralyzed with sadness among all your other unwanted hormones. Felix, seeing you shamefully walk back into his room was to the rescue as he tried his best to reassure you. There was nothing more he despised than seeing your pretty little eyes swell with tears that were caused from people who should've been supporting you.

- “Y/n, darling, look at me” he would softly cup your flushed, tear-stained cheeks, “I could pay for your education whenever you'd want me to, y’know?” You only nodded at him, sniffling as you felt yourself trying to keep it together. “In fact,” his dark eyes scanned the room before their full attention was back on you, “what do you say we go get a place together, yeah?”

- Felix was soon to follow in sharing the news with his parents and judging by the huge grin he sported on his gorgeous face after hanging up on the telephone, you knew that their reaction was eons away in contrast to how your folks retaliated. And with everything finally being put into motion, a flat just on the outskirts of where campus was located was hastily granted and approved to you and Felix. “Mum was practically screaming with joy,” Felix admitted as he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in the process while his mind painted the image of his mother beaming with delight at the thought of a Catton grandchild.

- You imagined your flat to be cute, cozy and fitting, but this was Felix Catton we were talking about. Opening the doors after receiving the keys to your shared place, you were stunned at how breathtakingly modern and posh the interior was. A large living room accompanied with what seemed to be an extraordinarily comfortable sofa, marble stained countertops in a kitchen that was larger than your previous dorm room all topped together with 4 exquisite bedrooms. It was a strange feeling, not unsettling, but very downright gracious as you could see everything playing out as if it were a movie. Candles would be lit on the dining table, the mouth watering smell of dinner you just prepared would be flowing in the air, and there would be an eager infant placed on your hip waiting to be fed. As you’re about to feed your young, Felix would walk in, looking exhausted from a tiresome day, but happy to see the two most important people in his life.

- “So?” he would interrupt your thoughts as he could see you relishing the moment. “I love it,” you would breathlessly vow before Felix could only respond by lifting you off of your feet and cautiously twirling you around the hardwood floors of your flat.

- As the months would slowly start to progress and evolve into life with Felix, you felt at ease for once and being able to have time granted to you allowed you to focus on yourself and your pregnancy, making everything less complicated. You could take any given moment to rest and let your body prepare itself for your child. Felix would do everything in his strong willed nature to find the best doctors for you, being in attendance for every appointment with you, and always kept himself in line for having access to all of your desires.

- Changes–lots and lots of changes. Watching your stomach slowly swell outwards was fascinating and you had accompanied a new profound sense of gratefulness for yourself. Most of the girls your age would probably die if they had to say goodbye to their wardrobe of short skirts and tube tops, but that didn't matter to you anymore, what did was your baby. Felix, on the other hand, was constantly in a state of awe whenever he was around you. His protective hands were always placed on your bump, caressing it with the utmost care possible, all while extensively praising you. “So so beautiful seeing you like this, my darling,” he'd gently whisper in your ear as you laid on top of his lean body, enjoying the spell he'd put you under that was his touch. “Carrying my baby,” he hushed, kissing the top of your head, his fingers unable to stop themselves from stroking one of your sensitive breasts. “You're only going to get more beautiful.”

- With all the happiness, there were also many challenges that you faced. Feeling extremely emotional more days than others, it was mainly the rare moments that Felix wasn't home or around to embrace you with his devoted presence that made you feel like you were missing out on a chunk of events that you should've been at. Felix rushing in after a late lecture that took more of his daunting time than it should have, he swung by you, only giving you a quick pat of a kiss on your forehead, before he rummaged his tote bag of schoolwork away on an empty counter. “You're in a rush,” you observed as he changed his button down into something that seemed far more relaxed and calm. “Uh yeah,” he hurriedly spat, focussing more on fixing himself up, “Oliver and I were gonna head to the pub with a few of the guys, celebratory post midterm drinks and all that.'' Oh, you tried your hardest not to sound letdown by the fact that you would probably spend the majority of the night alone on the sofa continuing to read a catalog you had zero interest in. Felix wanted to hurdle himself to the front door, but feeling tension in the air that was so strong he could cut it with a knife, he paused and glanced at your face that was slowly becoming struck with sorrow. In response, he slowly padded his feet towards you. “What's wrong?” His tone was relaxed and not full of distraction. You sighed, feeling guilty for stopping him in his tracks, “I just feel like I've been missing out on everything,” you found your mind speaking out loud, too late in stopping yourself from speaking the truth. “I miss going out with you, being carefree and reckless,” you pouted, feeling like a fussy child. “Oh, sweetheart,” he took a seat beside you, “I can assure you’re not missing anything, in fact, I'd rather be with you all the time.” it was true, Felix didn't care for his past ways, he was more occupied in his life with you and he'd never trade that for any sleazy party. He rested a loving hand on your stomach, “this is far more important to me.”

- Felix’s favorite pastime hobby with you would be picking out names for your little one. Dressed in nothing but cozy knee high socks and an oversized T-shirt, courtesy of Felix, you would lay a journal just above your bump as your attentive ears would listen to all the ideas sprouting from Felix, smiling as his quick mind came up with more suggestions. “Genevieve for a girl?” he gave you a weary smile, not feeling too confident. “It's beautiful, but too posh and old, no? He chuckled, “mum would have a field day with that one,” he exaggerated his expression, raising his pierced eyebrow before rolling his smitten eyes. “So that's a no, I presume,” you giggled as you crossed it out with your pen.

- Your shared moments that were filled with ambience of love were your favorite times. Soaking every ounce of alone time you could get with Felix because before you knew it, the simple times would turn into long sleepless nights—and not the ones you favored the most with him. Felix would run a bath filled with relaxing salts for you to lay in as he would wash your locks and all parts of your body for you, letting his hands do the work as your head would tilt back in ease, letting all your soreness peacefully exit. The moments spent in bed mainly included Felix resting his head on your bump, freely talking to your child as his voice carried you to sleep. “I love you and your mum so much,” he kissed your bare skin with his soft lips, hoping not to stir you out of sleep, “daddy cannot wait to meet you.”

[mononijikayu]

casual — geto suguru.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it was nice. Just, you know, casual." "Right, casual. I know, doll." Suguru echoed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he looked away. "No strings attached." "Exactly, yeah…." you said, forcing a smile. "We're both busy, and this doesn't have to mean anything more than... what it was." "Yeah." he said, his voice a bit quieter. "Just a one-time thing. No need to complicate things."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Angst, Unrequited Love, Romance, Casual Friends with Benefit, Falling In Love, Lack of Communication, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Food, Disassociation, Smut, Depiction of Sexual Intercourse, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Food Withdrawal, Depiction of Disassociation;

WORDS: 6k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this took me awhile to write and i wish it didn't but i was busy trying to help my brother heal up from his own fever and then i also felt unwell after going out and visiting my cousins. crazy week so far, but i'm glad to be writing again!!! i'll be publishing pasilyo tomorrow!!! i hope you enjoy this and see you soon <3

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YOU HATE THIS APARTMENT. You know you picked it out. You went through the painstaking process of finding the best you could afford in all of Tokyo, sifting through countless listings, visiting countless open houses, and scrutinizing every detail with a critical eye. You even reached out to Nanami, seeking his advice on how he had found his own place, hoping his insight would guide you to something perfect. 

But now, standing in the middle of the empty apartment, it just feels overwhelming. The walls seem to close in around you, their pristine surfaces a harsh reminder of the solitude that awaits you. The space, while objectively beautiful and well-chosen, feels alien and unwelcoming. The soft, neutral colors and high-end finishes that once seemed so appealing now appear cold and impersonal, like a display in a showroom rather than a home.

Each corner, every room, is meticulously arranged, yet it all feels distant, disconnected. The furniture you carefully selected—elegant, stylish pieces that should have brought comfort—now feels like mere props in a stage set, lacking the warmth and familiarity of a true home. The shelves stand empty, the walls bare, and the lack of personal touches only amplifies the feeling of displacement.

You had envisioned this place as a haven, a refuge where you could build a new chapter of your life. Yet now, it feels like a stark reminder of everything you’ve lost, of the gaping void left by Suguru’s absence and the weight of the decisions that brought you here. The reality of living alone in such a polished, empty space contrasts sharply with the vibrant, chaotic life you once had, and the dissonance is almost too much to bear.

The once-anticipated comfort of the apartment now feels like a cage, trapping you in a space that reflects the isolation and emotional distance you’re struggling to overcome. You try to imagine filling the space with personal belongings, with memories that would make it truly yours, but the task feels daunting, almost insurmountable. Each step you take feels heavy, burdened by the weight of unfulfilled expectations and the deep, pervasive sadness that lingers in every corner of this new, unwelcoming environment.

Since Haibara died and Suguru defected, the world has felt irreparably altered. Their absence has left a void not just in your life but in the very fabric of the world you once knew. Their departures were seismic shifts, upheavals that have reshaped everything—your sense of security, your understanding of your place in the world, and the very essence of who you are. The bonds you once relied on have frayed, the connections you took for granted have been severed, and you are left grappling with a reality that seems both unfamiliar and unkind.

The change is not just in the external world but within yourself. The person you were before all these events feels like a distant memory, replaced by someone who struggles to find meaning and connection in the aftermath of loss and betrayal. How could you not change when everything around you has been transformed so drastically? The world has moved on, and you are left to navigate its new contours alone.

People are worried about you. The concern is palpable, especially from Gojo Satoru, who has always been like a brother to you, a constant in a world that has become increasingly unpredictable. His worry is perhaps the most poignant, reflecting the deep bond you share and the impact of your struggles on those who care about you. His concern is a reminder that while you feel isolated, there are still people who want to help, who see the pain you’re enduring, and who are willing to support you even as you grapple with the overwhelming weight of your new reality.

He’d been trying to reach you for weeks, his calls and messages a persistent thread in the silence of your days. Each notification from Gojo felt like a distant echo, a reminder of the world outside the narrow confines of your apartment. Yet, each time you saw his name on your screen, you hesitated, unable to muster the energy to respond. The weight of the past was a constant companion, keeping you awake through endless nights.

The dreams, when they came, were a cruel mockery of the life you once knew. Each night was filled with hauntingly vivid memories of better times with Suguru—laughter shared in quiet moments, his touch, and the warmth of his presence that now felt like an elusive phantom. The contrast between those dreams and the stark reality of your waking life was almost too much to bear.

Food, once a source of comfort and nourishment, had become a meaningless necessity. The meals you prepared, though carefully chosen, lay untouched on the counter. Their taste had lost all appeal, a reflection of the emptiness that now colored every aspect of your existence. Eating had become a mere act of survival, a stark reminder of the joy that had been stripped away.

The outside world, with its bustling streets and vibrant energy, felt distant, almost foreign. Tokyo’s vibrant chaos seemed to exist in a different realm, one that you could observe but not truly engage with. The city that once felt like a living, breathing entity now felt like a backdrop to your solitary struggle, its noise and activity a harsh contrast to the silence of your own life.

It was on one of these evenings, shrouded in solitude, that Gojo finally appeared at your door. His concern was palpable, a stark reminder of how far you’d retreated from those who cared about you. When you opened the door, he stood there, his face a mixture of frustration and worry.

“I’ve been calling you for weeks.” he said, his voice heavy with concern. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

You tried to muster a smile, but it fell short, your exhaustion too profound to conceal. “Oh, Gojo. I didn’t expect you.”

He stepped inside, his eyes quickly taking in the state of your apartment. The neatness of the space did nothing to hide the emptiness that pervaded it. “You don’t look well.” he said, his cerulean gaze moving to the cold meal on the counter. “I’ve been worried. What’s going on?”

You shrugged, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “It’s nothing. Just... struggling, I guess. Food doesn’t taste right anymore.”

Gojo moved closer to the counter, his eyes scanning the untouched food. “This isn’t just about food. You need to take care of yourself. When was the last time you had a decent meal? When was the last time you really slept?”

You looked away, your voice trembling as you tried to suppress the tears. “I don’t sleep much. When I do, it’s filled with dreams of Suguru. It’s like he’s everywhere, but also nowhere.”

His expression softened, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. “I get it. You’re missing him. But you can’t let it consume you. You need to find a way to move forward.”

You shook your head, the enormity of the situation pressing down on you. “It’s not that simple. The outside world feels so distant now, almost foreign. I’m just... lost.”

Gojo’s hand gently rested on your shoulder, his touch a grounding presence. “I know…But you can’t do this. He…he wouldn’t want this either.”

You knew that. But you felt a pang of guilt as you tried to reassure Satoru about your well-being. The effort to project a sense of normalcy, to offer him even a glimmer of hope that things might improve, weighed heavily on you. You knew that your struggles were far from over, and while you didn’t want to burden him with the full extent of your despair, the pretense felt like a delicate dance on the edge of honesty.

Because you don’t know how he does it. How he keeps himself from going insane. You wished you did. You wished you could be him. Because you’re exhausted. You wanted to move on. You wanted to be free. But still, you’re here in this cage of grief, living like this. Being in pain. Being empty. 

Your graduation, which should have been a moment of triumph, was marred by his absence. The empty chair next to you was a constant reminder of what you’d lost. Now, in the stillness of your apartment, the silence is deafening. The memories of laughter and shared dreams haunt you, and the loneliness seeps into your bones. 

You can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing, if he ever thinks of you too. Suguru’s defection was more than just a betrayal; it was a fracture, a deep wound that hasn’t healed. And as you sit in the vast emptiness of your apartment, you wonder if it ever will.

Back when you lived in Jujutsu High's dorms, life was different. Shoko would pop by unannounced, always ready to share the latest gossip, her presence a comforting constant. Those moments of laughter and whispered secrets felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, you had Digimon show nights with Satoru, the two of you arguing over favorite characters and plot twists, the banter and camaraderie a soothing balm to the stresses of your training.

And then there were those cold nights when you needed warmth, and Suguru Geto was there. His presence was a refuge, his arms a sanctuary. The conversations you'd have, the plans you'd make for the future, they were all wrapped in a cocoon of shared understanding and affection. His departure left a gaping hole, one that you haven't been able to fill.

Now, you are all alone. Anyone is, with your one’s grief. And now you truly are, separated from everyone else. The silence is oppressive, the loneliness a constant companion. The walls of your new apartment seem to close in on you, a stark reminder of what you once had and what you've lost. The memories of Shoko's gossip, Satoru's laughter, and Suguru's warmth are ghosts that haunt you, their absence a painful reminder of the life you once knew.

In the stillness of the night, you sometimes catch yourself hoping for a knock on the door, for Suguru to walk in with that familiar smile, as if everything could go back to the way it was. But reality is harsh, and you know that those days are gone. All you have now are the memories and the lingering hope that somehow, someday, things might change.

Geto Suguru left without saying anything, that day he went on his mission. He was supposed to be back in a day or two—at least that’s what he said during the phone call you shared when he was on that train. His voice, calm and reassuring, echoed in your mind long after the call ended. But that was the last time you heard his voice. The last time he called you. It was him getting off your seesaw game, finally stepping out of your world and leaving you with nothing but a broken heart.

And yet, he was never your boyfriend. You and him kept up the pretense, a delicate dance of closeness and distance, never truly naming what you had. The word "casual" was used way too much, a shield to protect fragile hearts from the vulnerability of the word "love." You remember the nights spent together, the conversations that felt like they meant something more, but neither of you dared to cross that line.

You often think back to that call, replaying every word, every nuance in his voice. It was supposed to be just another mission, nothing out of the ordinary. But something shifted, something changed, and Suguru never came back. His departure was like a cruel twist of fate, leaving you grappling with unanswered questions and unspoken feelings.

In the aftermath, you were left to navigate the wreckage alone. The routines you shared, the subtle intimacy of your connection, all shattered. The memories of his touch, his laugh, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching—they haunt you, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

You’ve tried to move on, to piece together a semblance of normalcy, but the void Suguru left is vast and unrelenting. The "casual" facade you both maintained now feels like a cruel joke, the missed opportunities for something deeper, more meaningful, a constant source of regret. You wonder if he ever felt the same, if he ever wanted to bridge the gap between you, but the answers are lost to the silence he left behind.

The seesaw game you played, the delicate balance of give and take, is now a lonely ride. You’re left suspended in midair, longing for the weight of his presence to bring you back down. But all you have are memories and the lingering ache of a love that was never fully realized, a connection that was always just out of reach.

The room was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the city outside the window. You lay there, the sheets tangled around your legs, your mind spinning with a mix of emotions. Suguru was next to you, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes watching you intently.

"That was... something." you finally said, breaking the silence.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yeah, it was," he agreed. "Unexpected, but not unwelcome."

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, it was nice. Just, you know, casual."

"Right, casual. I know, doll." Suguru echoed, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before he looked away. "No strings attached."

"Exactly, yeah…." you said, forcing a smile. "We're both busy, and this doesn't have to mean anything more than... what it was."

"Yeah." he said, his voice a bit quieter. "Just a one-time thing. No need to complicate things."

You felt a pang in your chest but ignored it, keeping your tone light. "Right, no need to complicate things. We have enough going on with our missions and training."

"Absolutely, you’re right." Suguru said, but his purple eyes told a different story. There was a flicker of something deeper, something more, but it was quickly masked by a casual smile. "We're just two friends who had a good time."

"Exactly." you repeated, wishing you could believe it. "......Just two friends."

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I don't want this to change anything between us, doll." he said softly. "I value what we have."

You nodded, your heart pounding. "Me too. This doesn't have to change anything."

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Good. I'm glad we agree."

You both lay there for a moment longer, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Suguru sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "So, breakfast?"

You laughed, the tension breaking slightly. "Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

You felt like crying again, and you hated it. You hated yourself for it. Because there was nothing between you and Suguru. You were casual. It’s been a year, and there was nothing after that. He left you. He chose his path. He chose to burn the world to free himself from torment. But now, you are in torment. 

You sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on you. The memories of that night haunted you, the way he had looked at you, the way his touch had set your skin on fire. It was casual. Just a one-time thing. That’s what you told yourself, what you both agreed on. But the lie felt like a knife twisting in your gut now.

Suguru had left, and with him, he took the future you had secretly hoped for. You were in love with him. You didn’t want anything to be casual with him. You didn’t want it to be nothing. You wanted more, so much more, and now you knew you would never get anything.

The tears threatened to spill over, and you clenched your fists, trying to hold them back. You hated how weak you felt, how vulnerable. The world moved on, but you were stuck, trapped in a web of your own making. Suguru’s absence was a constant ache, a reminder of what you had lost, what you could never have.

He chose his path, and it led him away from you. It led him to destruction, to a darkness that swallowed him whole. And now, you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, alone in the vast emptiness of your new apartment. The echoes of your own thoughts were deafening, and the realization that you would never see him again, never hear his voice, never feel his touch—it was almost too much to bear.

You buried your face in your hands, the tears finally escaping, hot and bitter. The sobs wracked your body, each one a painful reminder of your unspoken feelings. You had wanted so much more, but you had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to risk the fragile balance you had. And now, it was too late.

Suguru was gone, and with him, any chance of something more. You were left with memories and regrets, with the knowledge that he had chosen his path, and you were not a part of it. The torment of unrequited love consumed you, a relentless ache that you couldn’t escape. You cried for what was, for what could have been, and for the future that would never be.

There was a strange stillness in the air, a quiet that felt almost suffocating. It felt different tonight. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall, your thoughts a tangled mess of memories and regrets. The knock on your door was so soft, you almost didn't hear it. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it, but then it came again, more insistent this time.

You wiped your eyes, forcing yourself to stand. Each step toward the door felt like walking through quicksand, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren't expecting anyone. As you reached for the doorknob, a part of you wondered if you were dreaming, if the grief had finally driven you mad.

You opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking in protest. And there he was. Geto Suguru stood in the doorway, looking every bit as if you remembered him, but different somehow. His eyes held a depth of sadness, a haunted look that mirrored your own. He seemed exhausted. As much as you, you think. But you say nothing for a few moments. You just stare at him, as though trying to be sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"Suguru?" Your voice was barely a whisper, the word catching in your throat.

He gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotions. “Why—”

"I needed to see you, doll." he said softly. "I just had to see you tonight….will you let me in?”

You don’t know how he found out your address. Or how he was able to know which apartment block yours was. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to force anything tonight. You nodded and stepped back, allowing him to enter. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the words that had been left unsaid. You closed the door and turned to face him, your heart aching with a mix of hope and fear.

"Why now?" you asked, your eyes searching for him. “Why come back to me now? I….I’m not…”

He looks at you, almost longingly. “I don’t know.”

The weight of Suguru's confession hung in the air, but before you could process it, he spoke again, breaking the silence. "I know this is unexpected. I know I don't have the right to just show up here like this, but I need to talk to you.”

You stepped back, the doorway now feeling like a chasm between you. "Suguru, this is a bad idea. You shouldn’t be—”

He took a hesitant step inside, his presence filling the space. "I just want to talk. Please."

The room felt smaller, more suffocating, with him in it. The tension was palpable, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. He glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on familiar objects—things that hadn't changed since he left. Things he wished wouldn't change. From the corner of his eye, he could see it. That uniform button he left behind. He purses his lips.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

You crossed your arms, trying to hold yourself together. "How do you think I am, Suguru? There's an order to kill you on the spot. If people find out you're here with me, the higher ups will get me.”

He flinched at your words, a shadow passing over his face. "I know the risks. I wouldn't have come if I didn't think it was important."

You shook your head, frustration and fear mingling in your chest. "Important? You think this is important? You left, Suguru. You choose your path, and it has nothing to do with me. Now you show up out of nowhere, and you want to talk?"

"I had to." he said, his voice almost pleading. "I've made so many mistakes, but leaving you was the worst one. I had to see you, to tell you how I feel."

Your heart ached at his words, but the reality of the situation loomed large. "And what do you expect me to do with that information? Do you want me to just forgive and forget? To pretend like everything's fine when it's not?"

He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I don't expect anything. I just needed you to know. I needed to try and make things right."

You looked away, the emotions swirling inside you too much to bear. "Suguru, you don't understand. It's not just about us. If they find out you're here, they'll kill you. And I'll be branded a traitor."

He nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of your words. "I know. And I'm sorry for putting you in this position. But I couldn't stay away. Not anymore."

The room was thick with tension, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you both. You wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between you, but the fear of the consequences held you back.

"I don't know what to do." you admitted, your voice breaking. "I don't know how…I don’t know how to handle this."

Suguru stepped closer, his hand hovering near yours. "You don't have to do anything. Just let me be here, even if it's just for a little while. Let me be with you."

You looked up at him, the pain and regret in his eyes mirroring your own. The risk was enormous, but the pull of your heart was stronger. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that things could be different, that maybe, somehow, you could find a way through this together.

But reality crashed back down, harsh and unyielding. "Suguru, this can't last. You know that."

He nodded, his expression filled with sorrow. "I know. But for now, can we just..."

You took a deep breath, the conflict tearing you apart. "Okay. For now."

Suguru’s eyes softened at your words, relief washing over his features. The air between you was thick with unspoken emotions, the tension palpable. You could feel your resolve wavering, the walls you had built around your heart crumbling with every passing second.

He took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand reached out, gently brushing against yours. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze held yours.

“For now.” he repeated softly, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and longing.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The months of separation, the endless nights of aching for him, all came crashing down in that moment. You closed the gap between you, your lips finding his in a desperate, hungry kiss.

Suguru responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions you had both kept bottled up for so long. It was as if you were trying to make up for lost time, to pour all your love and longing into that single, searing connection.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to assure yourself that he was really there. Suguru’s hands roamed over your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. The kiss deepened, growing more fervent, more desperate. You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other. The intensity of your emotions left you both breathless, but neither of you pulled away.

“Suguru.” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt.

“I know.” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “I know.”

You kissed him again, this time even more passionately, your need for him overwhelming any lingering doubts. His hands slid under your shirt, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. You gasped against his lips, your body responding to him in ways you had tried to forget.

The world outside ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was Suguru. Being here with you. The kiss grew more intense, a fierce clash of lips and tongues, as if you were both trying to make up for the lost time, for all the moments you had been apart.

Suguru’s hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you toward the bed. You didn’t resist, your body craving his touch, his closeness. As he laid you down gently, his lips never leaving yours, you felt a sense of rightness, a feeling that this was where you were meant to be.

His body pressed against yours, the heat between you growing more intense. Every touch, every kiss, was a reminder of what you had lost and found again. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

“Suguru.” you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of need and desperation.

He responded with a soft groan, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I’ve missed you so much, doll.” he murmured against your skin. “Too much…”

You arched into his touch, your body responding to him in ways you had almost forgotten. The intensity of your desire for him was overwhelming, a force you couldn’t control. You pulled him back up, capturing his lips in another searing kiss.

As the kiss deepened, the intensity grew, the passion between you igniting like a wildfire. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more.

The walls themselves felt like they were closing in, drawn tighter by the charged energy of the moment. The temperature seemed to rise with every movement, the warmth of your bodies pressed together creating a cocoon of intimacy and passion. 

You moaned against the kiss, feeling his hand around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He was always so good at making you defenseless when it came to him. When it came to Suguru, you surrendered without a fight.

His lips trailed down your jawline, planting heated kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into him, craving more. His other hand roamed over your back, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were memorizing every inch of you.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this." he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “How much I missed you.”

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with desire. "S–suguru…." you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own gaze dark with intensity. "Say it, doll." he urged, his voice a low, husky command. “Use your words.”

"Suguru, please." you repeated, feeling the heat of his name on your lips, the weight of it in the air between you. “I need you.”

A satisfied smile curved his lips before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce, possessive hunger. You responded eagerly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him.

His hand slid down from your neck to the small of your back, pulling you against him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a mix of intense pleasure and deep, unfulfilled longing. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out any remaining doubts.

As the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, you felt yourself melting into him, your defenses crumbling with every touch, every caress. Suguru had always had this effect on you, this ability to make you forget everything else, to make you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"I missed you." you whispered against his lips, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

He groaned in response, his hand sliding up under your shirt, his touch searing against your skin. "I missed you too, doll." he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "More than you know."

As he continued to kiss you, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made your heart ache, you realized that no matter what happened next, no matter the consequences, this moment was worth it. Being with Suguru, feeling his love, his desire, his need—it was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had been missing.

And in that instant, you knew you would face any danger, any threat, just to keep him here with you, to hold onto this feeling for as long as you could. Because when it came to Suguru, you were willing to surrender without a fight.

The heat between you was almost unbearable, the intensity of your desire for Suguru consuming you. His hands continued their exploration, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel his need, his desperation, mirrored in your own.

"Suguru…" you whispered again, your voice a mix of longing and urgency.

He responded with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting, exploring. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you. The sensation of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating, driving you to the brink of madness.

His hand slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing a path up your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he reached the clasp of your bra, deftly undoing it. The feeling of his hands on your bare skin was electric, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

"You feel so good, doll." he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with desire. 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding instinctively. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours. He helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen.

You ran your hands over his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. He groaned softly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you closer. The feel of his arousal against your thigh sent a surge of desire through you, your need for him growing more intense with every passing second.

He lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of you. "You're beautiful." he said, his voice filled with admiration.

You blushed under his gaze, feeling a mix of shyness and exhilaration. "Suguru." you breathed, reaching for him.

He kissed you again, hungrier than before. You could feel his hands sliding down to your jeans, unbuttoning them with practiced ease. You helped him, pushing the fabric down your hips, kicking them off along with your underwear. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat between you, heightening your senses.

Suguru's eyes roamed over your body, his expression one of reverence and hunger. He reached for you, his hands gentle yet firm as he guided you back onto the bed. You lay there, your heart pounding, as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, the heat of his skin radiating against you. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring every inch of you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I need you." he whispered against your skin, his voice filled with urgency.

"Then take me." you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered you. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping, your body adjusting to the fullness of him.

"So deep, Su…." you moaned, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He moved slowly at first, his strokes deep and measured, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze, the connection between you, was almost too much to bear. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.

He responded with a groan, his pace quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moved together in perfect rhythm, your bodies melding into one, the world outside fading away.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement—each a story of love and desire you felt for each other. The intensity built with each passing second, your moans mingling with his, the sound of your bodies coming together filling the room.

"S–suguru!" you gasped, feeling the tension building, the climax approaching. “I….I’m close!”

He kissed you deeply, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. "I love you, doll." he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. “More than you know.”

The words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure, your vision blurring as the orgasm washed over you. Suguru followed moments later, releasing a powerful, shuddering wave that left him breathless, his body collapsing against yours.

You lay there together, your bodies intertwined, the aftermath of your lovemaking leaving you both spent and sated. For a moment, the world was perfect, the dangers and fears forgotten. In that moment, all that mattered was the love you shared, the connection that bound you together.

Suguru propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze tender as he looked down at you. You turned to face him, your eyes heavy with a mixture of satisfaction and lingering emotions. He stroked your hair gently, his touch soothing. 

"I know I’ve been gone for a long time.”

“You have.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you without any explanation." He whispered to you. “For making you suffer.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you listened to his words. "It’s been really hard. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back. And when you did… it was like opening old wounds all over again."

Suguru’s fingers traced patterns on your back, his touch calming. "I understand. I’ve had time to think about everything, and I realize now how much I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. But I needed to see you, to try to make things right, even if I’m not sure how."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. "What do you want from me, Suguru? What do we do now?"

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were before. I just want to be honest with you.” 

The sincerity in his voice touched something deep inside you. You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You’re someone dear to me, Suguru. You always will be.”

You could see how painfully beautiful his smile was. And just as much, how easily he started to grieve this moment. “I know.”

You snuggled closer to him, your body seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace. As the weight of the conversation and the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster began to take their toll, you felt yourself growing drowsy.

Suguru’s arms tightened around you, his presence a soothing balm to your restless heart. "You should get some rest," he murmured, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here until you fall asleep."

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The feeling of his body pressed against yours, the gentle caress of his hand on your back, was all you needed to drift off.

When you awoke, it was to the soft, hesitant brush of Suguru’s lips against yours. You stirred, your eyes blinking open to find him gazing at you with a mixture of sadness and affection.

“I have to go, doll,” Suguru said quietly, his voice filled with regret. “But I’ll be thinking of you. Always. Wherever I go, wherever I am. I’ll only love you. Only you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, each syllable resonating deep within you. You wanted to respond, to find the right words to express how much his declaration meant to you, but the lump in your throat made it difficult to speak.

Instead, you simply reached out, your hand finding his, holding it tightly as if trying to anchor him to this moment. His fingers intertwined with yours, and for a brief second, you found solace in the connection, the warmth of his touch providing a bittersweet comfort.

Suguru leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if trying to imprint the memory of your skin on his own. His eyes met yours one last time, filled with an intensity that spoke of a deep and unspoken promise.

“Take care of yourself, doll.” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Live for me.”

You nodded, your eyes misting as you tried to hold back the tears. “I will. You too, Suguru. Be safe.

He kissed you one last time, a tender, lingering kiss that seemed to hold all the words left unspoken. His lips brushed against yours with a softness that belied the intensity of the emotions swirling between you. It was a kiss that conveyed both farewell and the depth of his feelings, a final, aching promise wrapped in the warmth of his touch.

As he pulled away, his eyes searched for yours, filled with a profound sadness that matched the heaviness in your heart. There was a moment where time seemed to stand still, where every second stretched into eternity. The look he gave you was a mixture of regret and deep affection, as if he were trying to imprint this final moment into his memory, to hold onto it even as he had to let go.

With a final, loving glance, he slowly rose from the bed, the movement reluctant and heavy. The contrast between the intimacy you had shared moments before and the distance growing between you now felt like a cruel irony. He began to dress, his actions slow and methodical, each movement a reminder of the separation that loomed ahead.

You watched him, feeling a hollow ache settle in your chest. The sight of him buttoning his shirt, pulling on his jacket, seemed to magnify the reality of his departure. Each piece of clothing he put on felt like a barrier, a wall being erected between you. The warmth of his touch was replaced by the cold distance of impending goodbye.

When he finally finished dressing, he paused by the door, turning back to you with one last, lingering look. His eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination, the kind of gaze that promised he would carry you with him, even as he walked away. The sight of him standing there, so close yet so far, was almost too much to bear.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then slowly walked toward the door. Each step he took felt like a betrayal to the moment you had shared, each creak of the floorboards a painful reminder of the separation. As he reached the door, he turned to look at you one last time, his expression a final plea for you to understand.

“Goodbye, doll.” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his emotions.

With those final words, he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving you alone in the room that now felt unbearably empty. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the sound echoed in the silence that followed.

You sat there, feeling the overwhelming sense of loss, the weight of his absence pressing down on you. The room, once filled with the warmth of his presence, now felt cold and desolate. You reached out to the space he had occupied, your hand trembling as if trying to grasp at the remnants of his touch.

The tears finally came, streaming down your face in silent, aching sobs. The finality of his departure settled in, leaving you with the bittersweet memory of his touch, his kisses, and the love you had shared. As you buried your face in your hands, the pain of his absence was a stark reminder of the reality you had to face, the love that remained but was now out of reach.

You lay back down on the bed, the lingering warmth of his presence a bittersweet comfort. Yearning for what remained of him. The reality of his departure settled in, slowly. Tears kept falling and you couldn’t stop them. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was him. 

You cried until you were too tired to do it. And as you drifted back to sleep, you held onto the memory of his touch, his kisses, and the promise that, despite everything, he would always be a part of your heart. He would always be your ghost. He would always haunt you, even when you’re old and gray — he would always be more than a casual memory. He’d always be the one that got away. And you knew….you were his too.

[angelicyoongie]

The Ivory Fang (Il/finale)

— pairing: mermaid taehyung x (f) reader — word count: 8.2k — warnings: (soft?) yandere — summary: You have run out of options when it comes to treating your mother's illness. When a mysterious man offers you a solution that might save her, you decide that nothing is too strange if it means it'll lead to a cure – not even finding and striking a deal with a mermaid.

Part 01 - 02

The bones above you rattle as you dare to step closer to the pool. Your body trembles under Taehyung's intent gaze, the sharp points of his fangs peeking out as he smirks. There's no doubt in your mind that he would be able to rip you to pieces in seconds with teeth like that, yet, you can't run away now. There is nowhere for you to go but forward and Taehyung has all of the answers you have so desperately been searching for.

"Your request?" Taehyung prompts. His fin flicks lazily up and down, keeping his shimmering tail floating just above the water.

"You know what it is," You find yourself growing angry amid of your fear, annoyed that you were sent on a wild goose chase so far away from your mother. "Why could you not grant my wish on land? Why drag me all the way here?"

Taehyung's icy eyes light up at your vexed tone, openly finding pleasure in your displeasure. He taps a finger against his cheek, dragging out the silence to seemingly shake you further before he says, "My magic is stronger at the island. Your.. situation, requires a great deal of it, so it must be done here."

"Magic abides by certain rules, an order, which must be kept if you want your wish to be successful. So I will ask you again, human, what is your request?"

A brief thought strikes you about faeries and their ability to twist your words into something foul as you look down at Taehyung's mischievous smile. There was a folktale your mother used to tell you when you were young, to teach you to always speak the truth. You followed your mother's will, scared by the implication that a creature could twist your words, until you realized that sometimes - lying was kinder than telling the truth. But perhaps there had been something valuable in her teachings nonetheless. Maybe a mermaid's magic, much like a faerie's, can twist your request into something terrible if you allow space for it.

You take a moment to formulate the request in your mind, making it as perfect and concise as possible without leaving any room for trickery. "I want you to cure my mother of the sickness that is eating away at her body and make her healthy again."

The mermaid tilts his head, exposing the gills along his neck as he considers it. "Very well. And what may you be willing to sacrifice for me to grant your request?"

The answer slips out just as easily as it did the first time Taehyung asked you.

"Anything."

"If it is something of equal value then..." Taehyung pushes himself back from the edge of the pool, the distance making it easier for him to once again scrutinize you from head to toe. You're not entirely sure what he's looking for or what he finds, but he seems to deem it acceptable. "Hmm, fine. I shall grant it."

The mermaid suddenly submerges himself underwater, swimming into the depths of the pool. You shudder as you look over the edge and realize you can only faintly see Taehyung's tail shimmering down below, the water far deeper than you were expecting. You hastily retreat as you notice Taehyung's form becoming more visible, the mermaid clearing the distance in only a few seconds as he breaches the surface. He has something clutched in his hand, something mushy and soft that strongly resembles algae. The only difference is that this seaweed is glowing, a faint light emitting from it as soon as it comes into contact with air.

Taehyung spares you no explanation as he swims over to the other side of the pool, to the same spot he was lounging before you revealed yourself. You watch in fascination as he finds a large shell, placing the algae into it before he starts mushing it up even further with what looks to be a white crystal. You wince as he tears a lock of hair from his head, uncaring, as he adds it to the mixture. There are a few more things added into it that you can't make out from where you're standing, and for your self-preservation, you think it best to stay where you are.

The mermaid eventually makes his way back to you, his concoction held safely above the water's surface. "Come closer, human, I need you for the final part of the potion."

You hesitate for only a split second, wary of closing the distance. But the guilt of knowing that you're only prolonging your mother's suffering finally pushes to you take a few more steps forward, falling to your knees at the edge of the pool.

"Very good," Taehyung purrs. "First, I need back what I gave you." The fang.

You had completely forgotten about it in the midst of everything else. You feel a jolt of panic as you rummage around the loose pockets of your trousers, not finding anything. Did you lose it in the sea? Patting yourself down, you let out a tiny sound of realization as you remember the hidden pocket in the back, the one your mother added for safekeeping coins.

"Here," You place the fang by the edge of the pool, watching as Taehyung picks it up with a carefulness you never would have associated with a creature like him.

You shrink back as he suddenly raises a webbed hand towards your face, your heart hammering in your chest as you get a good close-up of his awfully sharp claws. You squeeze your eyes shut as he makes a swiping motion, sure that those talons are going to cut your throat wide open. Instead, only feel a light tug at your hair, much like a knife cutting through it.

You open your eyes just in time to see Taehyung adding a few strands of your hair to his brew, grinding it down to nothing with his crystal. He whispers low under his breath as he stirs, speaking a tongue you have never heard before. You wonder if it's magic or if it's simply the language of mermaids. It feels old though, like perhaps it is older than time itself.

Taehyung places the shell in front of you as he finishes his incantation. "You must drink this and think of your intention – your request – as you do so."

The brew looks murky green and slimy, definitely not at all appealing. It makes your stomach turn to know that you'll be ingesting his hair, but if this is all you need to do, then that is a small price to pay for your mother's health. You grimace as you pick the shell up, balancing it carefully between your hands as you bring it up to your lips. The smell that hits your nose is repugnant and you have no doubt that it will taste even worse. You take a deep breath in through your mouth, using the moment to steel yourself and think of your mother before you tip the shell forward.

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolutely horrid taste that hits your tongue, some of the slimy potion pooling in your mouth despite your best attempts to quickly swallow it. As the final gulp passes down your throat and you heave for air, desperate for something to scrape the nasty residue off your tongue, you feel a heaviness settle around your wrists and ankles. The sensation weighs you down for a moment, tight around your limbs, before it disappears just as quickly as it arrived.

"What was that?" You croak, touching your unblemished wrist.

You freeze as a webbed hand suddenly covers yours, your breath catching in your throat at how wet and off his touch feels. The sharp points of Taehyung's claws are digging into your skin, just short of slicing into your arteries.

"It was your end of our deal. The only thing of equal value to saving a life is to take another. Killing you would be a pity, so chaining your life to mine seemed a better option."

You swallow thickly, unease spreading through your body like wildfire. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, if I call, you come. If I ask you to do something, you do it."

"So, I'm your servant," You conclude. "That's... fine. I'll aid you whenever you find yourself in our town."

Taehyung is silent for a long moment before he lets out a small chuckle, one that sounds like he just watched a kitten trip over its own feet. "Oh guppy, I do not think you understand. You are chained to me and my magic that rests on this island. You cannot leave."

"No!" You whip your head up, flinching as you find Taehyung's face much too close to yours. "But– But my mother? How will I know if our deal has worked?"

The mermaid shrugs, indifferent to your distress.

"Trust, I suppose. Desperation. If you ever attempt to leave, the spell will break and your mother will revert back to her sick self again. It is up to you whether you are willing to chance it."

You think you should have seen this coming – how cruel a deal with a magical creature can be. If you stay here you can't confirm that Taehyung is holding up his end of the deal but you also cannot risk going back to check on the odd chance that it actually breaks the spell and dooms your mother. You have no choice but to trust him – to hope that the magic that binds you, also binds him.

Taehyung senses your quiet acceptance, his claws drifting from your wrist to your cheek. You don't fight it as he lifts your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. The mermaid seems to revel in your misery, his eyes gleaming with something hungry and dangerous as he stares you down. His claws draw blood as he slinks closer, the small pinpricks leaving streaks of red trickling down your face.

Taehyung's breath ghosts over your lips as he leers and says, "Now human, what should we do with you?"

Servant was perhaps too kind of a word.

The mermaid puts you to work right away, sending you out to different parts of the island to collect items he needs. He often leaves you with vague descriptions, forcing you to make the trek multiple times when the plant or leaves you have plucked aren't the ones he's looking for. He never allows you to rest or eat until your task for the day is done.

You hobble into the cave, winching with every step as your bloodied and bruised skin makes contact with the hard rock underneath. Taehyung sent you out to find a red fruit today, one that grows at the very top of a tree. You haven't done much climbing since you were a child and certainly never that high up, so each branch you picked to take you further was chosen with caution. Your feet were already scraped and bloodied by the time you had made it halfway up the trunk and the rest of your climb wasn't made easier by the sap-like texture dripping out of the bark, causing every step to feel like it might be your last.

Your legs are shaking with pain by the time you step into the cavern, the crudely woven basket on your back so heavy it threatens to drag you down with each step. Collapsing near the pool's edge, you heave it off your shoulders to give to Taehyung. The mermaid hasn't spared you a single glance since you appeared, his attention locked onto the new concoction he's working on. It isn't until you loudly clear your throat that Taehyung turns around, propelling himself to the other side of the pool in a few seconds with a few strong strokes of his tail.

He hums contently as he takes stock of all the fruit you gathered, rummaging around to make sure that they're all in good condition. Taehyung pierces into the flesh with his claws, red juice dripping down his hand as he holds up the fruit to closer inspect it. His cold gaze moves over to you once he deems it satisfactory.

"Did you eat one, human?"

"No," You shake your head. To say you hadn't been tempted would be a lie, but you were afraid of disobeying the mermaid's orders. What if it affected your agreement?

"Good."

Taehyung lifts the basket on top of his head, balancing it there as if it weighs nothing as he returns to the other side of the pool. You massage your sore calves, trying to ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You're not sure how long the mermaid takes before he makes his way back to you - you suspect he always drags it out longer than necessary because he likes to see you squirm – but you feel ravenous by the time he places your dinner in front of you. Your food is always the same; fresh fish cut into thin slices along with blue, plump berries. While it never looks like much, it always fills you up until you think you might burst.

You try not to grimace as Taehyung's webbed hands wrap around your legs, dragging your feet down into the water of the pool. The first time it happened you had kicked the mermaid so hard it left him stunned. In retaliation for your fear, you weren't allowed to eat for two days.

You quickly learned your lesson that it was best to just let Taehyung do what he wants unless you were willing to face the consequences.

You focus on eating your berries as Taehyung drags his hands over the soles of your feet, the mermaid murmuring words you don't understand. You suppress your whimpers as the wounds on your feet begin to knit themselves back together, the skin scarring and smoothing over in just under a minute. You often find yourself wondering if this is Taehyung's strategy for an obedient servant; while he's the one who's breaking you down, he's also the only one who can patch you back up, ensuring that you always come running back.

Fear has kept you from talking much, worried that one wrong question might cause the mermaid to anger and sink his claws into you. But the past weeks on this island have left you feeling restless and starved for more than just food. At this point, you're simply desperate for some interaction. So, against your better judgement, you say, "How does that work?"

Taehyung pauses his movements, "How does what work, human?"

"The thing you're doing to my feet, the, uh, magic?"

"That is none of your concern," The gills on Taehyung's neck flutter as he huffs.

"Right," You murmur, not stupid enough to push when it's clear that he's unwilling to elaborate.

"Are you the only mermaid living on this island?"

You pull your feet out of the water the moment Taehyung is done healing them, scooting back just in case you have annoyed him with your questions. The mermaid regards you silently for a moment, his normally stoic expression wavering just so.

"I am. We are lonely creatures, much too possessive to be able to share the same home," Taehyung says. His nose wrinkles as he adds, "There are some.. exceptions, of course."

"Such as?" You wonder.

"Two of my brothers are a bit more attached than what is considered normal for us. I pity the creature they will choose as their mate."

Mate? It seems odd that such solitary creatures would have partners but maybe this is a good thing for you. If Taehyung starts looking for his mate, he likely won't have time to torment you and send you out on such pointless quests anymore.

"Do you see your brothers often?"

"No," Taehyung answers simply. "The moment we leave the pod, we are on our own. I only hear about my brothers through whispers of others, never directly from them. Such is the life at sea."

The mermaid quirks his lips, showing off the sharp points of his fangs as he notices the surprised look on your face. "You seem shocked that I am willingly giving out information, human."

"I–I suppose," You stammer, flabbergasted. Frankly, you didn't think you would ever get that much out of a simple question, that you would actually learn something about how mermaid society works.

Taehyung gently pushes himself away from the edge of the pool, floating on his back as he drifts closer to the middle of the water. The soft echo of his voice between the cave walls leaves your mind spinning as he confesses, "You are the first creature I have spoken to in years, guppy. Us monsters get lonesome too."

You stand with your hands on your hips just a little ways off the path your feet have forged, staring down the bush full of ripe, blue berries as you consider all of your options. You are well aware that you will get into trouble if you eat some, that you will be defying Taehyung's orders, but you are just so hungry.

It is only midday and you know that you have hours left to go until you have completed the task Taehyung has given you for the day. You need some fuel if you are going to be able to keep going until then. You're sick of feeling like your stomach is either trying to eat itself or almost bursting at the seams, sick of every little aspect of your life being controlled. You know that this is the sacrifice you have made to cure your mother – and it is worth it – but surely it can't hurt if you eat a few berries, just enough to quell the worst of your hunger?

Determined, you reach out to the bush and pluck a handful of plump, blue berries. Their hue is a little more purple than the ones Taehyung normally serves you but that likely just means that they're a little overripe, if anything. You pop them into your mouth, shrugging as the same, familiar mellow taste hits your tongue. You're tempted to grab a handful more to snack on but you decide you better not push your luck too much. First, you need to see if Taehyung notices the few you did eat.

You steady the basket on your back, beginning your trek back to the clearing a little way up the mountain. You've already been there once today but the overflowing basket you brought back apparently wasn't enough. No – the mermaid needed twice that.

You use the billowy sleeve of your dirtied blouse to wipe your face and neck as you near the base of the mountain, surprised by the amount of sweat that's pouring out of your skin. As you follow your own trail upwards, you find it hard to catch your breath despite your leisurely pace, the world slowly beginning to tilt on its axis the more you move forward.

The temperature on the island is mild today, certainly not hot enough to give you a heat stroke, but the symptoms seem to plague you all the same. You stumble to the ground as you reach a cluster of trees, seeking refuge in the shade they're offering. You leave your basket next to you, using the trunk of the tree for support as you try to catch your breath. Your mouth feels awfully numb, a bitter aftertaste blossoming on your tongue the more you try to swallow it away.

"Shit," You groan as your vision begins to blur. The moment you touch your face, you become aware of the weird itching that has begun spreading under your skin, like a thousand little pinpricks stabbing into it over and over. You frantically rub your face, closing your eyes as the movement makes your stomach turn dangerously.

"Sweetie–"

You lurch forward on your hands and knees as you hear your mother's voice calling out to you, the sound so close yet so far away at the same time. Your eyelids feel like swollen boulders as you force them open, your gaze unseeing as you attempt to make out the indistinct shapes of trees and bushes in the darkness.

That can't be right, wasn't the sun shining just before you closed your eyes?

You crawl forward, feeling along the ground as you attempt to make out what direction your mother's voice is coming from.

"Please help me–"

You veer a strong left, using a large rock for support to get up on your trembling, unsteady legs. You stumble forward into the night, swaying with each step as you hurry after your mother's shadow, her cries for help ringing in your ears. You never gain on her no matter how hard you push your body, no matter how loud you try to call out to her. There is hellfire raging inside of your body, making every step much harder than the last.

You slump over a fallen log for support, attempting to soothe the thunderous pounding in your chest before you continue to follow after your mother. The sound of snapping twigs catches your attention, your head turning in the direction it's coming from just in time to see something walk out of the trees. The creature walks unnaturally and jerky, its limbs twitching oddly with each step forward. The darkness shrouds everything but the creature's outline, how big and imposing it is as it hobbles forward, its claws glinting in the faint moonlight.

A demon.

You slide off the log, biting back a cry of terror as you begin to drag yourself in the opposite direction. Your legs are too weak to hold you up, your knees buckling whenever you attempt to put any weight on them. Sweat is streaming down your face as you dig your fingers into the earth, heaving yourself forward with all the energy you can muster. The sounds of the beast behind you grow louder and louder, and dread settles heavily in the pit of your stomach as you realize that you can't escape it. You flip yourself over with shaking arms, vision swimming as you stare up at the canopy of leaves above you. Tears flow down your cheeks as you remember your mother, still lost in these woods, soon to be alone with the same demon that's hunting you.

"Please," You whisper, tongue barely forming the words as you see the blurry figure of the beast above you.

You try to plead more, to ask for mercy as the demon's claws descend towards your face; but just as you open your mouth to do so, everything goes black.

There's a steady stream of grumbling close by as you regain consciousness. You can't pick out much over the sounds of rocks grinding together, but you do hear the words stupid and human repeated more than once. Your attempts to open your eyes are futile, a thick paste holding them closed. You begin to panic as you realize you can't even move your limbs to remove it, your fingers merely twitching by your side.

"Human, you are finally awake," The familiar sound of Taehyung's voice halts your racing heart and calms it from driving you into a frenzied panic.

A wooden bowl is pressed against your mouth, a cool liquid trickling down your throat as Taehyung carefully pulls on your chin to part your lips. The taste is awful, so bitter and rotten at the same time that you have half a mind to stop swallowing it and just let it flow down your chin to avoid drinking it.

"You have to drink it all," Taehyung says, as if reading your mind. "Unless you want to remain paralyzed from the toxins for the rest of your life, of course."

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a gurgle that weirdly reminds you of a cat's purr, as he sees you consume every drop. He removes the bowl from your lips as it empties, but his cold finger remains on your chin, the tip of his claw tapping against your cheek. "There was a reason I told you not to eat anything I did not give you, human. Most of the plants here are poisonous in their pure form."

"You are lucky I found you when I did, your foolish hallucinations and running around exacerbated the effects. You would be dead if I had reached you a few breaths later."

Hallucinations?

You can't remember anything past eating the berries before your trek up the mountain. The little feeling you do have in your feet seems to prove Taehyung's statement true, though. They feel scratched up and achy, like you've been running on uneven ground for hours. The mermaid lets you stew in the realization that he saved your life as he moves around, all too aware that you can't respond with your swollen tongue.

You eventually drift off to sleep to the sounds of Taehyung grinding herbs together, the mermaid murmuring words of the old language as he works.

The next time you wake up, you can finally open your eyes. The thick paste that was keeping them shut is gone and as you take stock of the rest of your body, you notice that your hands and feet move according to your commands. Even your mouth feels back to normal, your tongue no longer heavy and thick behind your teeth.

You roll your head to the side, finding that Taehyung is still kneeling next to you, right where you surmised he was earlier. His icy, piercing gaze is still as unsettling as always, but it also feels oddly comforting as he looks you over from head to toe, making sure that you're alright.

"Can you move all of your limbs?" "Yes," You croak, wriggling your fingers and toes to confirm that you can.

"Do you still feel like the fires of hell are inside of you?" Taehyung asks as he places his hand on your bare stomach, your muscles jerking at the feel of the cool and slightly sticky texture of his skin against yours.

"No," You murmur, "It's all gone."

Even if you do not remember anything of your hallucinations, you do recall the awful burning sensation that was all under your skin, scorching your flesh from the inside as the poison ate away at you.

"Good," Taehyung removes his hand to push himself to his feet, his movements just as unnatural as that time in his shop.

Without the cloak covering him up you're able to see just why he moves the way he does – the bones in his legs are twisted, jutting out in odd directions. You wonder if it's because Taehyung is half fish, that perhaps his anatomy does not line up correctly whenever he uses magic to transform his tail into legs. You know better than to ask though, no good will come out of antagonizing Taehyung with silly questions when he just nursed you back to health.

It's odd to think about, but it is true. Despite making your life a living nightmare for the past month, he still saved your life. Whether it's out of the good of his heart (you doubt it) or him not wanting to find a new servant, you'd rather not know. You're not sure which truth would be worse.

"What was the paste for?" You ask instead. "To make sure you did not start bleeding out of your eyes," Taehyung replies simply.

"Oh," You gulp.

Eager to steer the conversation over to something else, to make you forget just how bad this whole situation could have turned out, you pivot to another question that has been lingering in the back of your mind.

"Why–" You clear your throat, "Why did you pick me? I can't be the only human desperate enough to seek you out for a deal?"

"You would be surprised, human. Not many of your species are as, hm, selfless, as you."

The mermaid picks up a bowl you hadn't noticed before, the contents sloshing around as he hobbles back to where you're lying. You advert your eyes to the sky as Taehyung moves closer, finding it difficult to watch his stilted movements without it triggering something primal in your head, something that just wants to flee from the unnatural sight before your eyes.

"Drink this."

You glance back at Taehyung as he presents you with the bowl, once again kneeling by your side. Your arms shake as you lift it to your mouth, your head as heavy as the mountain you're in the shade of as you strain to lift your neck. The taste is still as awful as the first time Taehyung made you drink it but you diligently swallow down every drop, confident that something in it must be aiding your recovery since you already feel so much better.

"I did not always have magic," Taehyung explains as he takes the empty bowl back. "I made a deal with a sea witch. I was too young to know what I was asking for, what the witch was asking of me in return, and yet I accepted it without question."

"Mermaids have long lifespans, we live for twice as many moons as you humans do. I did not think it would matter much if I lost a few turns of the seasons, but the witch wanted so much more than that. It feeds of my life force, my very essence. I am a child of the sea, made to swim and hunt in it for centuries, and yet it tells me that half of it is already gone - eaten by the witch in an attempt to prolong its own existence."

You recoil as Taehyung lets out a small hiss, revealing his fangs as he thinks back on his mistake. He gives you a sour look as he notices your poorly concealed fear, as if you should already be over that by now.

"D-did you try to break it?" You ask, voice trembling.

"Of course," The mermaid rolls his eyes. "I did not just ask, I begged–" He heaves a deep breath, gaze blazing with anger at what you can only assume is his indignance of having to sink so low, to subject himself to something he considers to be beneath a creature like him.

"It did not yield to my pleas. The witch told me that it was only a creature with a will of steel, a heart of gold, and a selfless mind that could break my deal – my curse. Another mermaid would never possess such qualities and neither would other sea creatures. It only left humans."

Taehyung's deep baritone voice seems to go even lower as he stares you down and says, "I have visited countless human settlements before yours, seeking a human that would fit the witch's description. Not a single human ever entered my shop before you."

You shudder as the mermaid uses his claw to push a lock of hair away from your face. "What does that mean? You tricked me?"

"Perhaps," Taehyung hums, grinning in a way that shows off all of the horrible teeth in his mouth. "Or perhaps we simply took use of each other. You need me to keep your mother healthy, as I need you to break my curse. Your determination to save your mother even when you were at death's door showed me that you are precisely what I have been looking for – that you are the creature that the witch spoke of."

Taehyung cradles your face in his cold palm, his eyes shining with a different hunger than before, "Well done. You have passed my test, guppy."

You swear under your breath as you dump your basket into the soft sand, the grains still warm between your toes from the setting sun. With all the berries and herbs you have been picking lately, you forgot just how heavy firewood could be. You grumble as you pull the crudely chopped branches out on the sand, stacking them until they form a small bonfire.

The fire catches easily this time, roaring to life with the help of some big half-dried leaves. You still remember your first night on the island vividly, just how cold and scared of the unknown you were as you curled up to sleep near the flames. It never crossed your mind that you would still be here, months later, sitting in the same place and repeating the same motions. Not even in your worst nightmare would you ever dream that this would have become your life – your new normal.

You pat your growling stomach, staring out at the quiet sea as you wait for your dinner to show up. The setting sun has barely moved in the sky before Taehyung breaches the surface, throwing two fat and heavy fish up on the shore. You ignore the grisly sight of their missing heads, the identical teeth marks along their necks making it quite clear who the culprit is. Using two sticks, you skewer the fish, leaving it to roast over the flames.

Taehyung has pulled himself up beside the fire by the time you're done preparing your food. You made the bonfire near the water on purpose, just close enough that the waves lap at your toes whenever the current grows stronger. The proximity lets Taehyung leave most of his heavy tail in the sea, the dancing flames reflecting off his white scales.

"Is this another one of your human inventions?" The mermaid shoots the roasting fish a weary look, his lip curling with distaste as he notices how the scales burn and blacken.

"I suppose so," You shrug, turning the branches so that the fish cooks evenly. "We have always relied on fire for food and warmth. Surely you must have seen humans use it before?"

"You seem to forget, guppy, that no human has ever approached me before you did. I did not waste my time watching them, not when one would eventually find its way to me."

Taehyung experimentally reaches out a claw towards the bonfire, holding it close until the very tip begins to glow red. You let out a strangled sound as a thin line of smoke begins to rise from his claw and grab his wrist to pull him back, away from the flames. Taehyung's finger sizzles as you shove it into the damp sand near his torso, your eyes wide as you look at him in disbelief.

"Are you trying to hurt yourself?!"

"Peculiar," Taehyung murmurs as he lifts his finger, staring at the burned spot at the edge of his otherwise pure, white claw. "I could not feel it."

"Oh by the deities," You groan. "Perhaps your claws are too thick to allow you to feel pain but you can still burn. Be watchful of the fire."

Taehyung's bright cold eyes snap to your face immediately, "Are you showing concern for me, human?"

"No," You hastily reply. You can see the flash of Taehyung's teeth out of the corner of your eye as he grins, clearly not believing you as you busy yourself with the fish.

You can't pinpoint when the shift between you and Taehyung happened, exactly. Perhaps it was after he saved your life, or maybe it's simply a silent understanding that you both have something to lose if you don't cooperate. More likely though, you think it's just loneliness. The only creature you can talk to out here is Taehyung and the same goes for him. The days and nights get awfully long when you have nothing but your own voice to listen to.

Taehyung has seemingly realized that too, and in turn, he has grown... kinder. He still makes you gather things around the island every day and doesn't let you eat until your tasks are completed, but they have grown easier than before – and have become quicker to complete. There is still a bone-deep uneasiness that flares up whenever you're around him, a survival instinct that never dares to go dormant, but the visceral fear you used to feel as Taehyung showed his fangs or flexed his claws has dulled down enough to be manageable. At least, that's what you like to fool yourself into believing.

You move the now cooked fish away from the flames, giving it some time to cool down before you dig in. You rest your head on your knees, looking at how Taehyung's tail leisurely moves back and forth with the current. Glancing past it, you can't see anything but open water, Pearl Bay is too far away to be visible in the distance.

Hesitating, you trace out indistinct shapes in the sand as you carefully ask, "Do you think your magic would still work if you left the island and I followed you? Perhaps it's the proximity to you and not the island that counts? We could try–"

"No."

The silent anger in Taehyung's voice makes a chill rush down your spine. As you dare to turn your head to look at him, you find that his features are set in stone, hard, as he glowers at you.

"But–"

Your next words are replaced by a cry as Taehyung suddenly grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You fall to your knees, your face oh so close to the mermaid's exposed fangs as he snarls, "You cannot leave this island. Ever. Do you understand?"

The fear racing through your body renders you speechless, your mind much too occupied by the flecks of dried blood on Taehyung's sharp teeth to formulate an answer.

"I said–" The claws around your wrist begin to hurt as they dig into your skin, drawing blood, as Taehyung leans in closer, "Do you understand, human?"

"Y-yes," You stammer, "I'm sorry, I understand."

"Very well," The mermaid releases you the moment you utter your compliance. He makes sure you watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, licking your blood of his claws with a tongue that seems abnormally long. "Do not ask foolish questions again."

You can only nod in return, shocked by the display. His gaze flickers to the forgotten fish by the fire. "Eat your food."

You know a command when you hear one and you're not dumb enough to disobey Taehyung when he wants something. You fumble for the closest stick, heart pounding, as you grab one of the fish. You bring it to your mouth without much thought, biting into it before you can displease him further.

You yelp as the still fiery hot scales burn your lip, your eyes watering as you reach up to touch the wounded skin. You can tell it's going to blister and it's going to hurt for days, if not weeks, until it heals. Still, you chew and swallow the burning piece in your mouth, wincing as it moves down your throat.

Taehyung makes a clicking sound that resembles a tsk, turning your head back to face him once again. He stares at the burn on your lip, cocking his head as he assesses it.

"Be watchful of the fire," He echoes, half-mocking.

You hold your breath as he mirrors the same position as only moments before, his breaths almost mingling with yours. As Taehyung closes his eyes and whispers a few words of old under his breath, you're struck with a reminder of how handsome he is. You usually can't look past his fangs or piercing eyes, but like this, he simply looks like a beautiful, normal man. Someone you no doubt would have been drooling over if he had lived in your town.

Taehyung's cutting gaze demands your attention the moment he opens his eyes. You lose the ability to blink as you hold his gaze, heart stuttering with something other than fear as he says, "You are no use to me broken, guppy. I will continue to mend you and keep you whole. I can promise you that much."

You freeze up as Taehyung's cold lips press against yours, the kiss firm and unyielding as he pulls your bottom lip between his own. You make a noise in the back of your throat as Taehyung's tongue darts out to swipe across your burn, the sting instantly melting away. Before your body can make up its mind on whether it wants to push the mermaid away or pull him closer, Taehyung inches back, disconnecting his mouth from yours.

It takes you a moment too long to realize that Taehyung just used magic to heal your burn, the skin unblemished and smooth. You touch your lip, swallowing thickly as it tingles from Taehyung's kiss. You're not quite sure if the relief you feel is because your wound is gone or because you finally had the barest taste of intimacy after so long. You think it's for the best if you don't look too deep into yourself for that answer.

Taehyung seems pleased with himself as he watches your reaction. The mermaid's smirk spells trouble, the flames of the bonfire reflected in his eyes as he glances at your mouth.

"Interesting," He says, licking his lips, "Very peculiar, indeed."

You waddle out into the ocean, sinking slightly into the soft sand beneath with every step. As the water reaches your knees, you feel the weight of chains wrap around your wrists and ankles, slowing you down. The pressure around your limbs grows tighter the more you dare to move forward.

You stop when the water laps just below your belly button, glancing down at your wrists as if that would expose the invisible restraints that are hurting you. 137 steps. You have been pushing yourself one step forward every day, attempting to figure out just how far Taehyung's spell reaches, and you think you've finally found it.

The magic that is weighing you down is pulsating, squeezing and constricting your limbs in a way you know would bruise horribly if you could see them. It feels like a breaking point, like if you just push forward a little more, the distance will snap the chains right off. This must be the border you can't move past without risking breaking the spell and dooming your mother.

You retreat a few steps back, not willing to take any chances. The pressure from the chains lessens just a tad, as if urging you to go back to shore and rid yourself of the pain. You stay in place though, staring longingly at the faint, small outline of Pearl Bay shimmering in the distance. You've found that you can only see it on particularly nice days, when the sun is beating down and there's not a single cloud in the sky.

You have no idea how long it's been since you made your journey from Pearl Bay to here. The weather doesn't change much and the seasons certainly don't. Days bleed into nights and into days again, and you lost count many full moons ago of when you arrived at the island.

Sighing, you adjust the loose shirt hanging off your shoulders.

While you have never left the island since that day you stepped ashore, you know that Taehyung has. The moment the clothes on your back became too tattered, you found a rucksack filled with drenched clothing, all different styles and sizes. The mermaid never confessed to bringing them but you know there is no other explanation for how they just 'suddenly' turned up on the beach. It's all very strange. Taehyung has been meeting your every need lately, almost predicting them before they even arise. He has been acting a lot more than attentive than you're used to and that paired with his increased affection, you're not sure what to make of it.

As if your thoughts were a beacon, you hear a soft splash behind you. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pushing you further into the sand below as you bear the added weight of a mermaid hanging off your back.

"What are you doing, guppy?"

You shiver as Taehyung's cold cheek rests against your bare shoulder, water dripping steadily down your back from Taehyung's drenched hair.

"Not much," You say, turning your gaze to the spotless sky, "Just thinking." "Very well."

Considering how quickly Taehyung accepts your vague explanation, you can tell the mermaid has something else in mind – something he deems more important to do.

Barely a second passes before you feel the touch of his lips against your shoulder, your breath hitching as he leaves a trail of kisses up your throat. You lean your head to to side, allowing him easier access to your skin.

After that night Taehyung healed your burn, you don't think there has been a single day that has passed without the mermaid initiating some kind of physical intimacy with you.

The kiss seemed to awaken something in Taehyung; a feeling he only seems to crave more and more with each passing day.

To say that you mind it would be a lie.

Perhaps it's a sign that you're slowly losing your mind – but being held and kissed after so long feels nice. You know it's crazy to enjoy it with a creature like him, but what other option do you have? He's the only semi-human being around here and, well, his handsome face and toned muscles do make it quite enjoyable. There are still parts of you that find Taehyung's touch off, that makes alarm bells ring whenever you're held a little too tightly, but you've found that the more you ignore them, the less they bother you.

You let out a soft moan as one of Taehyung's longest fangs scrape across your skin, the sting immediately soothed by his tongue. He has taken it upon himself to experiment; to try out different methods in order to drag as many of those delicious sounds of you as possible.

You can feel your control slipping as one of his hands slips under your shirt, moving up, up, up.

Hastily grabbing it, you pause his movements just under the swell of your breasts. The intimacy is nice but you don't think you're ready for this yet. You're worried you might never want to leave if you let yourself sink that far into depravity.

"Taehyung," You murmur, catching the mermaid's attention. He nudges the back of your neck with his nose in response, breathing in the fresh scent of herbs and salt that always clings to your hair.

"What do I need to do to break your deal with the witch?"

Taehyung's grip tightens, the points of his claws digging into your skin possessively. "Why do you continue to ask me this, human? I have already told you that I do not know."

Because this is the only thing you know will distract him enough to forget about touching you more.

"Did the witch ever tell you when we would have to seek it out?"

There's a reluctant pause, a low series of perturbed clicks and grinding teeth before Taehyung tightly responds, "No. The sea will call for us when the time is right."

Your questions have their intended effect though, Taehyung's hands slipping away from your body as he detaches himself from your back. You hear him fumble with something behind your back, seemingly just as keen to distract you from your questions as you were to distract him from taking things further.

"I have something for you, guppy."

A string gets passed over your head, a necklace of sorts falling into place just below your collarbone. You pick up the heavy pendant attached to it, eyes widening as you recognize what it is - the ivory fang you had returned back to Taehyung. It glistens under the sunlight, its surface smooth and even.

"What is this?" You murmur as Taehyung peers over your shoulder, his chest flush to your back.

"It is mine," He reveals. "I lost it in my first battle. The shark had it coming for encroaching on my territory, but it did put up a decent fight, I shall give it that."

"That's, um– impressive?" You're not sure what the right thing to say is, you have never had to fight a shark before after all, but the mermaid seems pleased with it nonetheless, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck.

"Why are you giving it to me, though? What... what does it mean?"

"It means that you are mine, my little guppy," Taehyung purrs. "I have decided to bestow you the honor of being my mate."

Mate? That can't be, that's.. that's not possible.

"Tae–"

The mermaid wraps you back up into his arms before you can protest, spinning you around so that you are face to face with the creature that has decided you are his to keep. His icy gaze is narrowed, his handsome features set with determination.

"Even if the sea witch lifts my curse, you will still be mine," Taehyung declares as he pulls you tight against his chest. "Your mother will perish if you leave me and so there is nothing back there for you now."

He leans down, his cold lips moving like gentle waves against your ear as he says, "You belong here, with me – forever."

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TIF! it was nice to once again revisit the tcs-universe and it was fun to write a "softer" mermaid yandere story 🤧 i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

[intoanotherworld23]

Take My Heart

Summary: Working as a waitress in one of the most popular night clubs in the city seemed like a breeze. Then you’re asked to work the infamous dark rooms where you meet the owners, and you catch the eye of one of them, Joel Miller, whose one of the most feared men and rules the city

Pairings: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: cursing, mention of sex, mention of sex toys, drinking, and mention of drugs

A/N: If anyone wishes to create a banner for me for this series I would greatly appreciate it, and of course you will be given full credit for it! Message me if you are able to do so! Thank you so much everyone and enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"Your late." The bartender Eric nagged as soon as you walked over to the register to clock in for the night. "Again."

"Yeah yeah I know." Waving him off as he laughed at you.

"How do you manage to be late all the time when you live just down the block?" Raising an eyebrow at you.

"You think this makes a lot of tips looking like one of the undead?" Motioning your pointer finger around your face.

"I don't think the guys are really looking at your face babe."

"Well this helps too." Pushing your boobs up for emphasis.

"How you are still single is baffling to me." His words holding more meaning than what you realized.

Dressing provocatively was a part of the job. Hiring pretty girls showing off their bodies to a bunch of drunk and horny men was how the club stayed so successful. Granted a lot of clubs were like that, but there was something about this club that was different. Something this club offered to their guests that kept them flocking in.

It was called the dark rooms. Watching as different girls were pulled into one of the rooms men leaving with satisfied looks on their faces. All you were told was that their VIP's hung out there, but you had a very good idea as to what happened behind those black curtains.

Throwing your purse behind the bar where you usually kept it knowing it would be well looked after. Not that you had much money or anything for anyone to steal. None the less it still was money to you.

The club was incredibly packed tonight, and you knew the tips were going to be amazing. It wasn't just exactly an ideal job, but being a bottle service girl was about as good as you were going to get. You didn't have any family or friends so you didn't have anyone to turn to.

"You don't think she'll be pissed do you?" Now actually starting to worry this time she wouldn't be nice.

"Nah I think you'll be fine."

"God I hope so my rent is due this week so I need the money."

Even though you didn't have the best apartment it was better than nothing, and unfortunately it was also an expensive one. It was better than nothing at this point.

"You're lucky she likes you."

"Ya know when you're perfect." Sending a cocky wink over to him as he shook the mixer over his shoulder.

"Oh yeah what would we do without you." He sarcastically spoke.

"Oh shut the fuck up Eric you wish you were like me." Flipping your hair back over your shoulder with a grin.

"Get to work before you actually get in trouble this time." Throwing a dirty rag at you causing you to burst into laughter.

Walking by the crowded tables as you headed into your bosses office to let her know you were finally here. Hoping that this time she wouldn't be actually mad at you since you really needed the money.

"Beth." Knocking lightly on the cracked door to see her sitting there typing away on the computer. "Hiya."

"Don't even try it." Looking up from the computer with a straight face.

Bowing your head as you awkwardly stood there with your hands behind your back. It was like your parent had just caught you doing something you shouldn't have, and you didn't know what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry."

"Of all nights you had to be late again." Standing up from her chair walking over to you.

"I'm sorry I took longer than what I thought." Apologizing again more sincere this time.

"You know how important tonight is for me."

"What's happening tonight?" Scrunching your brows.

"The owners are coming here." Answering bewildered that you didn't know. "So everything has to be perfect."

That explains her behavior the past couple of weeks, and why she had been frantically running around the club stressing over small things that she never did before.

"The owners?"

"Yes the owners. The ones who own this fucking club." Running a hand through her hair frantically. "The Miller Brothers. Tommy and Joel Miller."

"Never heard of em."

"They're powerful men in this city. Nobody fucks with them." It sounded more like a warning to you.

"They don't sound that scary to me." Crossing your arms across your chest.

"God you're so lucky you're pretty." She scoffed as she walked back over to her desk.

As she sat back down you took that as he way of dismissing you. Turning back to the door about to head out when her words stopped you in your tracks.

"Oh you'll be working the dark rooms tonight. One of the girls called in sick so I need you to cover for her."

"What?" Eyes wide open now. "But I've never worked the dark rooms before. I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." She reassured you as you took a sigh of relief. "Just know that men pay very good money to have a pretty thing to wrap their arm around."

You knew exactly what kinds of sinful acts took place in the dark rooms, and the thought of some sleazy businessman paying you for sexual favors made your skin crawl. That wasn't the kind of thing you did or would put yourself through.

"What if they force me?"

"That's why we have security and cameras to make sure the girls stay safe."

"Why can't you ask one of the other girls?" Asking her in hopes she might ask someone else.

"Because they aren't as attractive as you."

"What if I don't want to work the dark rooms?"

"Then you better start looking for another job." Her tone serious and her eyes scowling at you that she wasn't playing around.

The two of you staring at each other as you contemplated whether this job was worth it or not. You could use some extra cash, but the thought of one of those men touching you against your will made your stomach churn. She did tell you that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but then you'd be missing out on a lot of money.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Having an angel on one shoulder, and the devil on the other. This would just be a one time thing though. So maybe it wouldn't be as horrible as you thought.

"Okay I'll do it." She smiled upon hearing that.

"Good. Go find Kara and she'll give you the rundown of everything."

Not saying anything else you simply nodded and took your leave. Your heart was racing and your palm was sweating already feeling nervous about what could happen tonight. Things could go smoothly or they could be a nightmare. Either way you just wanted this night to be over.

Looking around the club for Kara. Trying to spot her wild curly red hair through the sea of people. Finally spotting her talking to a group of men at a table. Flashing her pretty smile and placing a hand on their arms clearly trying to get a bigger tip.

Kara had been here longer than anyone else, and knew how to work her charm on the customers. She had also worked the dark room more than anyone else either. So you knew that she was making good money.

You'd exchanged conversation with her from time to time, but never really got close with her. She was friendly enough, but you knew she wasn't in this job to make friends, but make a shit load of money.

"Hey Kara." Shouting her name as she turned around to see who called her name. "I'm working the dark rooms tonight and Beth said you'd help me."

"Perfect follow me." Showing off her whitened teeth as she headed up the stairs you following right behind her.

"So you're working the dark rooms tonight huh?" She sounded almost amused when she asked.

"Yeah I guess so."

"Do you even know what happens in the dark rooms?" Stopping at the top to face you.

"I have a pretty good idea what happens." Your response making her grin.

She could tell just by looking at you that you were like a scared little bunny. Just the thought of going into one of these rooms petrified you. Let alone a man requesting you to stay in the rooms.

"There are different kind of rooms." Stating as you now stood in the hallway noticing some had curtains for doors. "Some rooms have dance poles. Some rooms just have large couches for relaxing, and some rooms have toys in them."

"Toys?"

"Yeah ya know sex toys and all that." Jesus Christ this place was much darker than what you thought.

"Then there's the VIP room." Standing in front of a deep and dark red double door. "Only the owners can access this room. They have it locked at all times, and they each have a key."

"What kind of men are these guys?" Asking her but not really asking her.

"The kind of men women want to be with and the type that men are scared of."

"Have you ever met them?"

"Yeah I did once." Reminiscing about the time they came in and you could practically see the drool coming out of her mouth. "Joel doesn't ever request any of the girls."

"Why not?"

"It's not really his thing." The two of you heading back down to the stairs. "Besides that man never has had to pay for sex."

"Right."

"So what exactly all do I need to do?" Asking her as you started to walk back down the hall.

"All you gotta do is smile and look pretty." That didn't sound too hard to do. "Bigger tips if you sit on their lap and let them touch you by the way."

Never mind.

You didn't know whether to take her words as a warning or not. The way she said it made it sound like that man always gets what he wants no matter what. The thought of meeting this man had your stomach churning.

Staring at yourself in the mirror trying to compose yourself as time was getting closer. Taking a shot of tequila to calm your nerves just a little bit. For all you know these could be incredible dangerous men, and your about to walk right into the lions den.

Maybe they wouldn't take a second look at you and leave you all alone. That was wishful thinking though considering these men were powerful and some of them were owners. It would be in your best interest to not say no to these men.

"Y/N let's go, there here."

Your stomach was doing somersaults now. Palms were starting to sweat, and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears. There wasn't any chance you'd be able to slip out of there. You were just gonna have to suck it up, and get the night over with.

Maybe it would be a piece of cake, and the night would be over before you know it.

"Here bring them this bottle." Eric handing you a tray that had shot glasses and a bottle of very expensive tequila as you walked past the bar.

"I didn't even know we had this here." Examining the chic looking bottle like you were holding diamonds.

"Nobody else can order that except them." Pouring liquor into a martini glass. "You better get moving they don't like to be kept waiting."

"Which room are they in?"

"First room on your left." Nodding as he gave you an encouraging smile.

Trying your best to not trip or drop the glass as you cautiously walked up the stairs to the rooms. Not knowing exactly how many men were going to be in this room.

As you approached the room you could already hear deep voices talking. Sounding like there were multiple men in there. Noticing there was four shot glasses which suggested to you that there was four men. Which wasn't too bad you've dealt with almost triple the amount of men before.

"There she is." A voice boomed as soon as you stood in the doorway.

"Where's the other girl?" Not knowing who said that as your eyes were focused on the ground.

"She called in today so Beth has me working." Answering quickly your voice quivering.

"Remind me to thank Beth." The same unknown person said making your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

Finally looking up to look at them as the red and blue lights illuminating their bodies as they sat around a table. All of them were wearing very nice suits, and their hair was styled back. They were all very good looking men, but there was one who immediately caught your eye.

He was incredibly handsome in almost a he didn't seem real. Like he was hand crafted by the gods himself, and he wasn't actually a human being. He was too perfect for words. Trying not to drool being in the same room as him.

His honey brown eyes had been staring at you since you walked in the room. Following you as you placed the glasses in front of them, and pouring them each a shot. Trying your best not to shake under his intense gaze.

The other three continued to talk as if they couldn't care less about you being in here. Which oddly made you feel relieved that they weren't trying to harass you or anything like that.

"Cheers to a good night boys." One of them toasted as they downed the first shot.

"Hell of a day." A man with tattoos on his neck continued.

"I can still see the look on their faces as we fooled them." The one that toasted said. "We totally had them by the balls they were so scared."

"Fucking idiots." The attractive one chuckled.

"Did they really just think we were going to just take the money, and not keep the g-." His voice cut off by an elbow being jabbed into his side.

"Shut the fuck up Don."

Okay that was a little weird. Obviously didn't want you to hear whatever he was about to say. Not that you would have really remembered anyway, since your mind was just focusing on getting the night over with.

Now you were feeling awkward not knowing if you had to stay in here. It wasn't clarified if you could come and go as you pleased. Not wanting to upset anyone by leaving, and they needed something. Two of these men were the owners you just didn't know who.

"Now for even more fun." Watching as the one who had tattoos on his neck pull out a bag with white stuff in it.

"Jesus fuck Andrew." The super attractive one groaned angrily.

"What?" Shrugging his shoulders as he continued to dump some on the table, pulling out a razor blade messing with the powder.

"What did I say about doing that here?" His voice stern in a warning tone.

"I mean you've said it but that doesn't mean I'm gonna listen." Cutting up some lines ignoring Joel's warning.

"I said not here." Raising his voice slightly.

"This is your club Joel." Ah so he was one of the owners. "Are you telling me I can't do this here? Or do you just not want the lady to see?"

Suddenly all four pair of eyes turned to your figure hiding in the corner. It felt as if now you were under some type of spot light. This was exactly what you were hoping to avoid, and now you were the topic.

"Andy knock it off." The fourth man spoke up. Noticing he had curly hair, and looked like he could be related to Joel. Maybe he was the brother.

"She doesn't need to see that shit." It was surprising that he was almost trying to shield you from the drugs.

"Like you don't snort this every other day Joel." He argued sarcastically back, and you could see Joel seething. "Or you either Tommy."

"I said not here." He didn't back down a vein popping out of his neck. "That's my final warning."

You could tell there was so much tension between the two of them. It was clear Joel was the man in charge, and this Andy guy was a trouble maker. The other two guys looked like they wanted to stay out of it.

Maybe Joel didn't want you seeing this cause you are new. Or maybe in a sense he was trying to impress you. It was probably because he didn't want you telling the cops on them or anything like that.

"What's your name sweetheart?" Andy smirking over at you ignoring Joel now.

Looking between the two men wondering if you should answer or just stay silent. Joel nodding his head signaling it was okay. Not sure why you were looking to him for approval anyway.

"Y/N." Sheepishly responding back to him.

"That's such a sexy name." Andrew smiled but his words just made you cringe.

"Thank you." Responding not wanting to make him angry.

That's when Andrew leaned forward more towards you giving Joel an evil look before turning his attention back to you. You could feel like things were just going to get worse.

"How would you feel about giving me a lap dance?"

Soon as the question left his lips Joel didn't hesitate to stand up, and stomp over to him ready to fight. The other two men standing up as well ready to hold him back from killing the man. Backing yourself up against the wall scared of what was about to happen.

Joel standing face to face with the man who just stood there smirking like he was winning. He acted like he wasn't terrified, but on the inside he was shitting his pants.

"What the fuck did you just say to her?"

[trulyumai]

Changing Your Mind

pairing: Messmer the Impaler / Reader

Synopsis: ever worried for your husband, you bring up his behavior. only to be taken into the jaws of ambition and flames

warnings: arguing, smut(kinda)

Enjoy!

“mess?” a sleepy mumble erupted the flame out of the thoughts. war fallen memories rattled about his brain.

“mmh?” long fingers swiped across the girls face, pushing back the hair that tickled her cheeks.

“you’ve been.. ah, distant, lately,” his wife shifted, moved more into his palm as he lay beside her, form sprawled out and open.

“how so?” red brows furrowed with a tight confusion, the knight tried to recall recent moments with his dear wife, to make her assume such a silly thought.

“you come home late,” she whispered

“very late.” wide eyes stared back into his squinted ones.

confusion etched upon his features as his fingers were pushed away from the woman’s face.

never before had he felt such a burn of a touch; felt the sizzle of despair nip at his vision.

seeing his wife so worried; scared over nothing.

“ah, that’s what thou is pradling over—

“don’t. I’m being serious, Messmer,”

“As am I,” he shot back.

The woman sat up, crossed her arms over her night gown with a huff.

“now, wife, please.” He wanted to reach out— feel her soft skin against his but the fear of rejection was strong.

“are you unhappy with us… me?”

Her lip wobbled with an uncontrollable sadness, and Messmer wanted to bathe in flames once more.

“No… no! Don’t be silly, my darling,”

No longer caring, the man engulfed her form, placing both large hands upon her delicate face, circling the sides entirely.

“Please understand.. I.. I cannot say, but it’s for the good of the order, for the good of us hm?,”

She looked at him, stress sinking into her orbs.

“How can you expect me to be so complacent?”

“I expect you to trust me.” A gasp filled the air, small, but powerful enough to startle the maroon haired man.

“That’s not fair. That’s not..” huffing the girl pushed away, resisted against her husbands clingy hands.

“Please, lovely!”

Standing now she stood above the lanky form that clung onto her like a bee on honey.

His pale fingers roped their way into her gown, twisting it with persistence.

With shaking hands he tried to get her to look at him, gain her attention to his sincerity, honesty.

“I’m gonna sleep downstairs,” she mumbled, already grabbing at the wool cover that sat atop their bed.

Quick, strong fingers met her hand half way. They squeezed and pulled until she sat atop the man; looking daringly down at him.

“How dare you!”

“How dare I?” He bit back. Over this entirely, the man ignored her pushes, the shoves made upon him.

Instead he pulled her only closer, until the sweet scent of her graced his senses once more.

“Wife, listen—listen!”

Both hands caught in his giant fist, she realized it was useless to hold such a fight with the knight of flames.

So her form slumped, granting him the victory that he sook persistently.

“I’ve don’t nothing to dishonor thou— I swear in mine own honor— my heart, my life.”

Messmer shook with a new fear; he didn’t want to displease her, say the wrong thing to have her leaving him again.

“I— I,”

How weak the flame must have looked.

How shameful it must be, to be on the brink of tears, in front of your own wife, shaking like a leaf upon the ground.

Seeing how emotional her husband had gotten, she sighed.

It was never her wishes to upset him so.

She was worried; stressed that her flame was in trouble with the capital. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’m sorry.”

Messmers shoulders were soon covered by her arms, they wrapped tightly, warmly around his bulging frame.

“No I—hah, I’m sorry, dear wife. It seems I’m no good with mine own words.” A chuckle left his tensed lips, holding no humor, only a deep tone with drifting eyes.

“That’s okay, makes two of us, mmh?” Her skin; so soft against his own.

Her forehead bumped against his, with Messmers nose brushing against her smaller one.

“You’re not mad?” His voice, barely above a whisper met with her ears.

His wife shook her head adoringly, hair sweeping her face side to side.

He smiled, the ball of stress that had crossed its way in the expansion of his chest dissipated. He could breathe normally without a thick pain shooting out.

“I just love you, I worry, you see.”

A deep laugh sounded out, this one held a bit of humor to it.

“Darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Your husband is strong, you know.”

“Oh hush,” she giggled, pushing against the man with a light touch.

The bed creaked out as Messmer sat back.

Now lying down he could admire his wife in the shadows of the moonlight.

How it lit up her features perfectly.

Those soft eyes

The flowing hair that reached down her back

To the perfect shape and curves that made up her body.

All his to worship and glorify until the end of days.

He shuddered, already feeling hot from the lust that overcame him easily.

His wife was no fool. She saw the way he obsessed over every crevice of her form that lay on him, as she caressed and smoothed over every scar, every raised bump on his skin.

How he shamefully inched his fingertips down, down, and—

“Wife,” he groaned.

“Let me have you, please.”

To have such a man before you, begging to make love to you was a power trip no one could imagine.

It made her stomach wind up in a coil; hot and tight enough for her legs to squeeze out in protest.

“Please,” he called out again, already sitting up to dig his nose into her neck.

Kissing and licking the skin around her shoulder.

“Yea— ah, yes, please.”

With her head tilted back, messmers hips bucked forward, earning a high pitched moan to erupt from the beauty before him.

“I will have you,” a kiss upon her chest

A bite upon her stomach.

“I’ll consume you, until all is mine. Over, and over again.”

A moan escaped her closed lips, as the knights fingers found their way to her exposed mound, already seeking the warm center.

The bickering was forgotten; for the flame and his darling wife had found a new reason to occupy their minds.

And cease the ever rising stresses that eased upon the lands.

————•————•————

A/N:

Dude yet again distracts her from the tensions building up in the capital.

Poor girl has no ideaaaaaaaaaaa. But I don’t blame her, big scary man is easy to be distracted by. Also?? bro cannot stand the thought of her being upset at him, what a chuuuump hehehhe

[ponderingmoonlight]

Yoriichi saving you just in time from getting killed by a demon

Pairing: Yoriichi x midwife!reader

Word Count: 4k

Synopsis: Your job takes you to the poor Kamado family, who are expecting their first child. But instead of a joyful birth, you are greeted by the cruel claws of a demon. What luck that an extraordinary swordsman shows up on this fateful evening.

Warnings: near death, injury, child birth, I'm not a midwife mystelf so this part isn't that detailed, lots of angst but comfort, this is my first demon slayer fic EVER so please show some support, I really appreciate it 🤍 (added 2 additional pics into the fanfic because I'm so amazed by the insane quality of these ai pics)

Tags: @froufrousnowman

„Excuse my rude interruption, but is this the Kamado residence?”

You are exhausted, sweat dripping from your forehead on this warm summer day, the sun shining down on you with all its strength. But you were called here, so you came. After all, this is your job. As a midwife by heart, you fear no weather when it comes to aid another woman by delivering her child.

“Yes, I am Sumiyoshi Kamado. Are you the midwife we were calling for?”

The man in front of you smiles at you kindly. You can tell by one look into his inviting eyes that he’ll be an amazing father. But before that, you have some work to do.

“That’s right, my name is (y/n). May I see your wife?”, you ask kindly, taking off the package of tools you were carrying on your back.

“She’s sleeping at the moment, but please allow me to lead you inside. Would you like to eat or drink something? I just cooked dinner!”

The excitement dripping from his voice really warms your heart. In times like these, gifting a child into the world seems like a burden, like an impossible task. It was in no way granted that an expected child was in any way welcomed. You’ve seen it all, the horrible things father and mother would do to prevent the new life from existing, how fate itself decided to stretch its hands out and take the child away from this earth way too soon. You’ve seen tears of joy, tears of grief, tears of despair. But oh, just one loving look of fresh mother and father into their babies’ tiny face is enough to make it all worth it for you.

“How did your wife feel within the last days? Did she complain about pain, especially in her back? Bleeding? Did she have to defecate more often than usual?”

Carefully, you place your tools onto a white cloth and disinfect your hands with strong alcohol when entering the room.

“She looks very peaceful, that’s great”, you hush.

What a beautiful woman she is, laying on her side with her hands covering her belly even while she sleeps safe and sound. Instinctively you kneel down next to her, gently caressing her cheek.

“This is your first child, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And I am beyond grateful you decided to help her even though we aren’t able to pay you decently. I wish I could give you more-“

“Please, don’t worry about it. I really enjoy being here. And if it helps your wife, no coins in the world are a better reward”, you interrupt with soft voice, looking down at her one last time before getting up and silently leaving the room along with her husband.

Your eyes dart towards the small window. How lovely the sunset looks today. Is it already this late? You must have been traveling for quite some time. As if on cue, your stomach begins to rumble. Well, maybe a cup of tea and something warm to eat would be a blessing right now.

“I am a little nervous. After all, I know nothing about the birth of children and how to care for them afterwards. But I love my wife so dearly, imagining a little child with her eyes truly makes me feel whole. Do you have any children yourself?”

What a kind man he is, sitting opposite to you with a cup of tea in his hand and his eyes glistening in the down-going sun. Despite the cruelness of the world, the tales of demons hunting down humans with what seems like no aim, all the bitterness and tears, this man was able to keep his warm smile and optimism.

“No. While I do adore children, I am not married. It’s hard to find a man willing to marry a midwife”, you explain briefly.

There is no sense in denying the fact that you are of low birth, a self-taught midwife since no man was willing to teach you. And in a world full of gorgeous young girls with skin like porcelain and kimono’s worth more than your housing, you will never catch the attention of a male. But somehow, you’ve found your inner peace with that. After all, helping other woman to finally receive their own little family fills you with enough joy to overlook that you’ll never have a man or a chid by your side yourself.

Confident knocks against the wooden door rip you out of your conversation.

“Are you awaiting someone?” you question.

Within the village you live in, it is told over and over to not leave the house after sunset. And while you don’t consider yourself superstitious, not going out when it’s all dark always seemed plausible enough for you. But now, the sun almost set, the trees around you barely lighten by the weak beam.

“No, but maybe it is someone who needs help.”

You get up from the ground, mindlessly holding onto the cloak in your hands tightly while holding your breath. It might be someone in the need of help. But out here in the woods, who knows…Shivers run down your spine, eyes staring at the door filled with curiosity.

The sight in front of you isn’t one of a robber, an old lady in distress or a demon though. Your orbs widen slightly. No, this is a man. And what a man he is.

The way he carries himself with so much peace and elegance. He looks…majestic. His fuchsia eyes lay upon your host. And even though you don’t understand from afar what they are talking about, you can tell that his firm but calm voice could tame entire oceans. What a remarkable perfect face he has, the only interruption being a scar covering his forehead. So elegantly clothed with a katana attached to his belt? You draw a little closer, take in his sight a little clearer. He looks like one of the men you’ve seen before in your village right after a whole family was brutally killed during night. He was armoured with a katana too. Could it be?

“Are you a demon slayer?”

You want to curse yourself for speaking to him so ruthlessly, for interrupting their conversation so harshly. But you’ve got so lost in his sight that it seems your mouth opened itself.

“Indeed. This is a riskful area. Keep your doors and windows locked during night time and do not leave your wife unattended. Please don’t roam around the house on your own and stay with your husband”, he instructs towards both of you.

Why does he look at you while calling you “wife”? You blink a few times when realization slowly but surely hits you. Oh. Your face reddens instantly, eyes snapping towards your host in pure shock.

“Oh, you misunderstood! She isn’t my wife, but the midwife that will help my wife delivering our firstborn. She’s sleeping at the moment”, he explains calmly while smiling at you.

The stranger’s eyes lock with yours, you can’t help but hold your breath. From all the men you’ve seen come and go in your lifetime, he definitely is the most captivating one. Is it because of his flawless appearance, because he carries himself with so much elegance? Or is it the calmness that radiates from his voice, the power you’re able to sense on him? Maybe nothing, maybe both.

“That is very kind for you. I will stay in this area tonight, but please look after yourself”, the stranger continues, glancing at you one last time before turning around and heading back into the woods.

“Thank you!”

“What an interesting man!”, your host comments towards you, closing and locking the door like he was told you.

“Do you believe in demons?”, you question.

His eyes darts towards you, the positive spark in them gone for the split of a second.

“I’ve witnessed a lot of deaths that happened during the night, terrible massacres with no one surviving. I am firmly convinced that a human being could never to something like that.”

“Humans can be cruel too”, you argue, pictures of all the horrible things you’ve seen within the years you’ve been working as a midwife flooding your mind.

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder who the real monsters in this world are. The demons, the wild animals? Or humans who pretend to be on top of the world, who tear down everything and everyone when they feel like it?

“That is correct. But we are trying our best, right? And that is all that matters for me.”

“It’s getting late, I should look after your wife. Is it alright if I rest with her for today?” you mumble, fingers fumbling with the white cloak to distract your mind from the stranger, from his words, from this whole conversation.

“Of course! I will prepare everything!”

You sign to yourself, gaze glued onto the woman laying in front you sleeping peacefully. Everything will turn good, right?

-at night-

Your eyes shoot open immediately, roaming around the dark room. There they lay, bodies intertwined with each other while being fast asleep. What was that fade away rustle you’ve heard, then? As quietly as possible you lift yourself off the futon Kamado-san prepared for you, naked feet greeted by the cold of the wooden floor underneath. Maybe you just dreamed it. Or is an animal outside? Given the fact that you are located in the middle of a forest, this wouldn’t be a surprise. You furrow your eyebrows, a fade away cracking from outside catching your attention all over again. No, something is off, you can sense it by the way your guts turn.

Instinctively, your hands grab the knife with which Kamado-san prepared your food just a few hours ago. You are by no means an experienced fighter, you have been skilfully avoiding situations like this your entire life. But waking up both of them over nothing would be ridiculous. Just a little glimpse outside the door, just to check on what’s probably a deer. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, palms sweaty in response.

With your free hand, you grasp the handle of the door. Breathe in, breathe out. Tame your pounding heart, get a hold of yourself. With a swift motion, you swing it open.

And get greeted by a pair of venomous red eyes.

There is no time to react any further. Not too late you are able to escape his grasp, naked feet carrying you further inside the forest.

“A demon! There’s a demon outside! Get into safety! A demon!” you scream on top of your lungs.

Please, let Kamado-san hear your desperate cries, let him drag his wife into safety. The disturbing tall and crippled figure of the demon draws closer to the house, closer to the soon to be family.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Sympathy, a protective instinct? Whatever it is forces you backwards, right into the claws of the demon.

“I can’t allow you to harm a single soul in this house”, you hiss through gritted teeth, holding onto the knife in your hands for dear life.

How is it even possible to kill a demon? Do you even stand a chance against it? It doesn’t matter now. You slash forward with a cry of determination, aiming for its carotid artery. The cut doesn’t have to be deep if you hit him with enough precision, your muscle strength should be enough.

But before you are even able to come close to his body, his claw slices open your right arms with ease. Your eyes widen in pure horror, body unable to move even an inch. It moved so fast you weren’t even able to see its hand moving, sliced you open so effortlessly while you’re gasping for air like a fish on land.

Your body falls to the ground, the demon positioning itself on top of you. No, you won’t let it end like this. After all, you still have plenty of work to do, Kamado-san’s wife didn’t deliver her child yet. With full force you push your arms against it, trying to keep your keep your face out of its gaping mouth.

With one push you free your arm, yanking the knife into its eye. Now or never. While its loud groans fill the air with fright, you get off the ground, run deeper into the forest, desperately try to stay alive. You can’t die like this. Not you, not Kamado-san, not his wife, not their unborn baby.

But the demon is right on your tracks, hunting you down the dark forest without any mercy.

“Ouch.”

 A moment of inattention is enough for you to stumble over a thick branch, knees meeting the floor harshly. Is this your end? All you can do is stare up, glossy eyes widen in the dim moonlight with a tiny trail of its blood on your face. Hopefully the demon slayer from last evening will return soon enough to at least safe Kamado-san and his family. If not you, at least they need to survive.

There you kneel, face gone emotionless, orbs directed towards the frightening creature that lunges towards you. One hit. One hit of its claws will be enough to behead you. One second and your life will be nothing more than a fade away whisper in the darkness, ended way too soon just like so many others. You never thought it would be you, that of all the people you’d get killed by a demon slayer. After all, you were always so skilled in avoiding trouble, never allowing yourself to get into danger.

But oh, now you are. And it will cost you your young life.

Yoriichi can’t catch his breath, feet carrying him so rapidly to the scene laying itself out in front of him that the trees around him merge. He told you to stay inside, to keep windows and doors shut. Why are you outside? Where are the man and his wife? Please, let it not be too late, let him be able so safe those people.

Finally. With a determined slash of his blade, the demon in from of him gets beheaded, its ashes raining down onto the ground. You look…uninjured. Frightened, in pure shock, but uninjured. And unbelievably lovely with the dim moonlight highlighting the delicate features of your face.

“Are you alright?” he questions softly, slowly approaching you and stretching out his hand.

Carefully he lifts your trembling limbs off the ground, your hand holding onto his for what seems like dear life while your sharp and heavy breaths hang in the cool air.

“Yes”, you finally breathe out.

“Are the other two alright? Did someone get hurt?”

“There are inside. It was only this one. I lured him away”, you huff.

 Yoriichi swore himself to never get close to another human being again, to fulfil his duty in silence. But you…Did you really risk your life for a family you didn’t even know until yesterday? Did you run into the woods so selflessly to distract the demon? What a brave woman you are, truly remarkable.

“I was hoping for you to return”, you add.

His warm hand feels almost therapeutic against yours, calming down your tingling nerves and beating heart. You survived. Is this really possible? While kneeling down and staring right into the face of that frightful demon, you already accepted your fate. But that he’ll show up like a knight in shining armour, saving you just before getting beheaded…It seems like a miracle to you.

“I came here as fast as I could. This area was full of these creatures”, he explains briefly, fuchsia eyes resting on you.

“(y/n)!”

A thick stone falls from your heart. It’s him.

“Kamado-san, is your wife alright? Are you alright?” you blabber, the man sprinting towards you as if his life depends on it.

“You saved us. Even though you don’t even know me and my wife, you risked your own life to save ours. And you…You really came. I’m beyond thankful.”

He falls to his knees, leaving you completely speechless.

“She really was outstanding brave. Normally the sight of a demon alone is enough for most humans to lose their minds. You are exceptional, (y/n).”

It sounds so strange, hearing your name out of this charismatic stranger’s mouth. But the way his eyes lock with yours sends shivers down your spine, makes your heart pound against your ribcage all over again.

“What is your name?”

“Yoriichi Tsugikuni.”

Yoriichi. What an exceptional name that matches his majestic appearance perfectly. It seems so easy to get lost in his eyes, to study every inch of his face. And his smell…

“I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation, but I think my wife will deliver her child soon.”

Your eyes dart towards Kamado-san immediately.

“Why are you saying so?”

“Since she woke up from your screams, she seems to have contractions.”

You don’t think twice. As fast as your feet are able to carry you, you sprint back into the house, back to the reason why you originally came here.

-the next morning-

“Sleep well. You deserve it”, you whisper into the woman’s ear gently, wrapping her up inside a blanket before leaving the room discretely.

The birth went smooth and faster than you expected for a first born. Not long after you arrived by her side, she delivered the baby with tears of joy running down her face, her husband telling her over and over how much he loves her. It was bittersweet, seeing in front of your very own eyes what you’ll never have. Just after encountering him, just after those strange feeling that he triggered in you.

“I’m glad to see you are alright.”

You stop in your tracks, staring at the back of him in disbelief. There he sits, facing the sun while his broad shoulders catch your attention all over again.

“I’ll make some tea”, Kamado-san discretely announces before hushing into the house.

“I am in no way responsible for the miracle that happened tonight. That was you and Kamado-san’s wife”, you explain briefly, sitting down next to him.

The sun caresses your skin gently. You never thought its hot beams would calm your nerves before the incident of this night. You smile at the little bundle of joy Yoriichi is holding in his arms. Oh, how well it suits him. Someone like him must be a good father.

“I’ll be leaving after I had a cup of tea. It wouldn’t be right to keep eating for free here”, he announces all of the sudden.

“Don’t say that.”

Out of instinct, you place on hand on his firm shoulder and wrap the other around his strong biceps.

“You saved our lives tonight. It if hadn’t be for you, not only would we be dead, but this child you’re holding in your arms wouldn’t be born, either.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Your eyes freeze, unable to tear away from his beautiful sight. Why does he make you feel this way? What is it that makes this stranger so special? Is it his sword skill, his ability to fight? No. In fact, you couldn’t care less about that. It’s the way he carries himself, the elegance within every step he takes. It’s the fact that he sacrifices himself for others.

Just like you do.

“Like what?” you hush.

“As if I am some kind of special person. I don’t deserve the affection you hold in your gaze.”

“You deserve every spark of affection for your being”, you argue.

“You’re wrong about that. I failed to protect anything that was important to me. And throughout my life, I was unable to do what I was supposed to do. I am worthless.”

“How could you even say something like that? How could you talk about yourself so negatively after saving four lives this night?”

“Because of the countless lives I failed to protect.”

“So what? Does it make be a bad midwife that I wasn’t able to save every single child? The losses are tragic and never forgotten, but as long as we are doing our very best, there is nothing to regret. Tonight, you were able to save a young family. You should be proud of yourself instead of talking you down.”

He stands up, handing you the new-born carefully before grabbing his sword.

“Are you about to leave?” Kamado-san questions from afar, storming outside with tea in his hands.

You thoughtlessly hand him is son, eyes directed towards the charismatic man in front of you.

“I have to leave now. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Wait!” you shout all of the sudden.

You don’t know what has gotten into you, but there you are, running after him and grabbing his hand just like you did this fateful night.

“Will I ever see you again?”

For a moment, time seems to stand still. He can’t believe his ears, usual tame heart almost beating out of his chest. When was the last time a woman ran after him, the last time a female even looked his way? He can’t remember. But especially you…Why would a woman like you be interested in a broken man like him? What do you see in him?

“Why would you want that?”

“I can’t tell. I just know I have to see you again”, you reply automatically.

The air between both of you seems thick enough to get cut by his knife, your eyes almost piercing through the back of his head. Please, just say something. Just move, turn around, smile. Just do anything besides standing still. Never in your life did you even think about the possibility to get to know a man better. Why him? Why a man you didn’t even know before last evening? Why someone who seems so unapproachable?

“You will see me again.”

And with that, he’s gone in the wind, leaving you with your feelings all over the place.

-a few months later-

“I almost thought you wouldn’t come”, you comment, resting your head against the cool grass.

The weather changed. As soon as the evening arrives, it’s getting way too cold outside to stay for long. But when he’s here, none of that seems to matter.

“You know I always do. How was your day?”

He lays down next to you, closing his eyes for a brief moment while you position your head on his shoulder. Oh, how much you loved these innocent little meetings. After you returned to your little village, Yoriichi found you wherever you went. Always keeping an eye open for you, staying longer from meeting to meeting. Until you randomly laid down in the grass the whole evening, talking about your life and eventually, got even closer. Innocent touching, him drawing circles on your back while you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“The baby I delivered today, they were actually twins. Two healthy girls, the father almost fell unconscious when he found out.”

Your cute little giggle lights up the air around him and fills his heart with joy he hasn’t felt in a long time. Being happy seems so easy since he got to know you.

No. It’s far more than simply knowing you. The feelings he holds for you go far deeper than that.

“I love you, (y/n).”

Your heart skips a beat, gaze darting towards him the second those magical words leave his lips. Did you dream that? Are you really resting in the meadow with Yoriichi telling you none other but that he loves you?

How much you longed for this sweet moment, how often you thought about saying those words too. Without hesitation, you press your lips against his.

While the world around you seems to fall apart, at least this is fine. Yes, laying here in Yoriichi’s arms while tenderly kissing him like you’ve always imagined makes everything around you whole again.

“I love you too”, you whisper against his lips.

Who would have thought going to work and almost getting killed by a demon would turn out this nice?

[goodnightmemes]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price.

❛ War is coming, to the whole of the realm.❜

❛ I am indebted to you. ❜

❛ I'm afraid. ❜

❛ We should've just killed her when we had the chance. ❜

❛ When the king speaks, Your Grace, all hear it. ❜

❛ I find myself wondering...do we pursue the same end? ❜

❛ You must accept that the path to victory now is one of violence. ❜

❛ Did you think I would wither in your absence? ❜

❛ You only blame me because your true enemies are out of reach. ❜

❛ She holds love for our enemy. That makes her a fool. ❜

❛ I promise you, you will have all the vengeance that you seek, but you must keep a grip on your impulses. ❜

❛ Do anything but what I ask, and I'll bleed the whole lot of ya. ❜

❛ The gods punish us. They punish me. ❜

❛ This is not the time for blind accusations. We'll know who did this soon enough. ❜

❛ I will not be seen as weak. ❜

❛ Sometimes, we have to pretend. ❜

❛ I cannot trust you. I've never trusted you, wholly, much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs only to you. ❜

❛ You think me some kind of monster. ❜

❛ You're pathetic. ❜

❛ We can afford no further mistakes. ❜

❛ You are mad. Mad! You cannot think that I did this! ❜

❛ You would send me to my death. ❜

❛ I would remind you only that when princes lose their temper, it is often others who suffer. ❜

❛ I see all your great adventures have done nothing for your looks. ❜

❛ For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. ❜

❛ I wish to spill blood, not ink! ❜

❛ Instead of judgment, you display impetuousness, and diminish us in the eyes of our enemy! ❜

❛ Fuck dignity! I want revenge. ❜

❛ They wish now not for the good of the realm, but for the petty satisfaction of vengeance. ❜

❛ Soon they will not even remember what it was that began the war in the first place. ❜

❛ There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin. ❜

❛ I'm as fearsome as any of them. ❜

❛ You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised. ❜

❛ I cannot promise to make you happy. But I ask you: make this sacrifice willingly, for all of us. ❜

❛ If you've not yet surmised, you are welcome here. ❜

❛ Sin begets sin begets sin. ❜

❛ If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. ❜

❛ Do not coddle me. Grant me at least that dignity. ❜

❛ Sadness is a condition of motherhood. ❜

❛ You have as much claim to grief as anyone. ❜

❛ Tales take on a life of their own, like weeds. Unless they are tended. ❜

❛ Always coming and going, aren't you? And I have to clean up afterwards. ❜

❛ You will die in this place. ❜

❛ I have been, at times, unkind, but never untrue. ❜

❛ You must go before you are discovered. ❜

❛ Your mother must've been very beautiful. ❜

❛ You should've burned them when you had the chance. ❜

❛ Is there no honor left in this world? ❜

❛ This is a better death than a traitor deserves. You should thank me for it. ❜

❛ I will not be made to look a fool in front of my allies and enemies. ❜

❛ I believe it is a sin to deny your appetites. They are what make us fully alive as mortal men. ❜

❛ If I may be so bold, you have not seemed yourself of late. ❜

❛ I've barely had the hours to grieve one tragedy before suffering the next. ❜

❛ I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. ❜

❛ Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom? ❜

❛ You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne. ❜

❛ What would you have me do? ❜

❛ Do simply what is needed of you: nothing. ❜

❛ Where have you been, these last days? You vanished without so much as a word.❜

❛ There are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing. ❜

❛ If you die, all is lost. ❜

❛ The horrors I have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone. ❜

❛ Do you take issue with me? ❜

❛ I can sit still no longer. I must act. ❜

❛ I did not think they would be so eager to die. ❜

❛ I need them alive. I came here to raise swords, not corpses. ❜

❛ Will you goad me? When your bread and shelter now depend on my pleasure? ❜

❛ I mislike feeling powerless. ❜

❛ I do not know my part. The path I walk has never been trod. ❜

❛ What you cannot do, let others do for you. ❜

❛ There is more than one way to fight a war. ❜

❛ I do not wish to stand alone. ❜

❛ Has your loyalty faded? Or does it flourish only at night and flee the sunrise like a moth? ❜

❛ What we must do now is... terrible. ❜

❛ This is not war. These are crimes against the innocent, that any upright man would repudiate. ❜

❛ And once again, in the name of power, it's the weak and the women who must endure. ❜

❛ Was it worth the price? ❜

❛ I caution you, boldness is one thing, but overconfidence… ❜

❛ You have the impetuousness of youth, and its arrogance, neither of which is to be desired in a king. ❜

❛ Have the indignities of your childhood not yet sufficiently been avenged? ❜

❛ To claim a dragon, you must also be prepared to die. ❜

❛ You can't possibly still be angry about this. ❜

❛ You weren't going to bid me farewell? ❜

❛ It is your way, is it not? When something does not please you, you run. ❜

❛ There are older things in this world than you or I, or living memory. ❜

❛ You are not the player, but a piece on the board. As am I, for that matter. ❜

❛ It is my fault, I think, that you have forgotten to fear me. ❜

❛ It was worth the risk, no matter the outcome. ❜

❛ The enemy without may be fought with swords. The enemy within is more insidious. ❜

❛ Do you take me for a fool? ❜

❛ Oh, you make an art of provoking me. ❜

❛ Stop wasting your life waiting for something that'll never come. ❜

❛ I'm sure you did your best. ❜

❛ They will underestimate you, and this will be your advantage. ❜

❛ If the gods call me to greater things, who am I to refuse them? ❜

❛ Nothing is clean here. ❜

❛ The order of things has changed. Why not embrace it? ❜

❛ It does seem to me that you've made rather a mess here. ❜

❛ I don't need their love. I need their swords. ❜

❛ Mind your tongue. ❜

❛ I mislike all of this. ❜

❛ It seems you need us more than we need you. ❜

❛ So, what was the fucking point in all this then? ❜

❛ It's best to live, I think. However you do it. ❜

❛ You are not alone. ❜

❛ Will you prepare to face such an enemy? Or will you stay here and make yourself easy? ❜

❛ If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness, I will see you hanged, and your body fed to the dogs in the street. ❜

❛ You've arrived just in time to see my new army. What do you think of it? ❜

❛ This place will have you barking at the moon. ❜

❛ We must all make our sacrifices. ❜

❛ 'Tis no longer our rule that is threatened, our very lives. ❜

❛ Perhaps all men are corrupt and true honor is a mist that melts in the morning. ❜

❛ The dragons dance, and men are like dust under their feet. ❜

❛ We march now toward our annihilation. ❜

❛ There will be time enough to see which one of us is a coward. ❜

❛ There are omens here for those who seek them. ❜

❛ It's all a story and you are but one part in it. You know your part. ❜

❛ I am meant to serve you, and all of these with me, until death or the end of our story. ❜

❛ Be strong. You know you are just. ❜

❛ History will paint you a villain. ❜

❛ I am at last myself, with no ambition greater than to walk where I please and to breathe the open air. To die unremarked and unnoticed and be free. ❜

❛ You speak as if from a distant dream. ❜

❛ Come with me. ❜

❛ My part is here, whether I will or no. It was decided for me long ago. ❜

[sonarspace]

wishes

a/n: it’s my birthday :3 so this is just a very self indulgent post. you can imagine whoever you want :). content: jjk x reader. kinda soft birthday sex (nsfw). wc: ~ 500

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. you feel soft lips littering kisses on your face. you blink your eyes open to his gleaming face “happy birthday,” he whispers. his fingers trace your skin, pushing back the hair sticking to your face trying to see you in your entire beauty. the sleepiness evident in your slightly heavy eyes. your smile bright enough to make the sun shy away.

the moon shines through the curtains just enough that he’s sure you’re an angel fallen from heaven. and he thinks god must exist cause you exist. and you’re here in his bed — every night. he makes a silent promise to himself to never take you for granted and love you with his entire being.

one peck. two pecks. three pecks. a silent vow to love you forever. you giggle his name. it sounded so sweet from your lips, he never wants it uttered by anyone but you. “thank you,” you whisper shyly a blush creeping up your neck when he looks at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the world.

overwhelmed by love, he grabs your face and kisses you fully. his lips slot over yours like they were made to only kiss you. needy and wanting to be as close as he can — his hands move under your tank. his finger tips draw mindless patterns on the expanse of your skin of your stomach. your legs wrap around his waist pulling him in closer to you.

his tongue moves over yours. trying memorize every little papillae. he sucks in your tongue into his mouth after a while. trying to imprint your taste into his taste buds. he whines when he feels you buck up into him. your nipples perked through your tank and hitting his bare chest.

he pulls away and licks a stripe from the base of your throat to the underside of your jaw. he sucks at the tender flesh there — a love bite. you push down his boxers impatiently. a shiver passes through your body when you feel him chuckle into your shoulder at your eagerness. he grabs your hands and laces them together. his callouses rough and your hand soft, gripped into his as he slowly pushes into you.

the initial push has him seeing white. so warm and snug around him. he breathes heavily as he asks you for a minute. soon he starts moving in and out of you. “faster,” you whimper after a while. his name on your lips begging him to bring you closer to your orgasm. “shh. birthday girls don’t beg”. he replies cheekily. your hand grips his tightly as he angles his thrusts to bring you as much as pleasure as he could. pressing against that one spot that has you quickly unraveling.

your clenching has him following suit and he moans your name continuously like a prayer. leaving a kiss wherever he could. his head takes home in your neck once more. he’s still in you as he wraps himself around you like a koala bear wraps a tree branch and whispers ‘i love you’s into your skin.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#47: The Lovebirds & The Snake (1.05)

gif cred: @taiturner

Up to this point we'd been having such a nice time with our little lovebirds...and then there comes a snake in their midst. 😪

But one of the things on my internal TOWL wishlist was Michonne having the chance to finally confront Jadis and tear her up...and well, TOWL yet again said 'wish granted.' 😌🧞‍♀️...

Outside of Richonne’s cozy cabin of love, we’re given our first indicator of how the world will soon be back to screaming at them when we see none other than trifling Jadis ominously making her way to the cabin. 😒

gif cred: @nerd4music

But before Jadis confronts Richonne, there’s a flashback to three years ago when Jadis first met up with Father Gabriel for the start of their annual tea times. 🙃

Now, I tend to want to fast-forward most of these Jadis/Father Gabriel scenes during a rewatch since they’re a little dragged out to me. But there is one particular thing that I very much loved hearing during their meetups. We'll talk about it later.👌🏽

Also, let me just say that this revelation that Jadis had been visiting Father Gabriel annually had me side-eying both of them hard. 😒

You mean to tell me, for years Jadis got to look forward to her little meetups with Gabe while knowing she’s the reason Rick doesn’t even get to know if his wife and daughter are okay or get to see them ever again??? Jadis isn't just trifling, she's evil. 😤

And as for that man Father Gabriel…😑. Seeing his involvement in these secret meetups had me like...

I was truly looking at Father Gabriel like SIR, if you would have let Michonne know that Jadis - who disappeared around the same time as Rick - meets up with you and she has a whole helicopter, I just know Michonne would have put two and two together very quickly.

Like Daryl is an elite tracker and he was never able to trace down Rick almost as if Rick, idk, just disappeared into the sky or something. If Michonne and Daryl knew about Jadis and her helicopter I just know they’d tell Father Gabriel to expect some company during his next annual meeting with that snake. Because they’d want to come along and ambush Jadis to try and get some potential answers about Rick's whereabouts. 

And I would've been in full support of Michonne and Daryl's tea-time ambush, like...

When chatting with Father Gabriel, Jadis acts like she doesn’t know anything when he says Rick died on that bridge and again - Jadis, you beast.

I feel like these flashbacks were intended to humanize Jadis but a lot of it just made me think about how heartless and selfish she is by seeking her own moments of personal connection with Gabriel while keeping Rick from his family. Had me looking at Jadis like...

So then they cut to Rick and Michonne looking precious and serene while they sleep in that tiny bed. ☺️

Seeing them like this made me so happy because, after years of going to bed alone, they finally get to fall asleep in each other's arms again, where they’re most meant to be. You just know this is some of the best sleep they’ve got in years. 👌🏽😌

gif cred: @nat111love

And, it's only seen for a split second, but I love how Rick is holding Michonne with his bandaged arm and she has her arm over his. Like I'm just so glad that Rick gets to go from experiencing the wild, lonely, and traumatizing day he chopped off his hand to now having that very arm held by the love of his life while they peacefully sleep. 🥹

And clearly, whatever they were up to the night before had Richonne knocked out, because Jadis is fully in the room with guns aimed at them and they don't even wake up until she actually speaks.

gif cred: @taiturner

I admit I did like hearing Richonne be called 'lovebirds' as Jadis greets them saying, “Morning, lovebirds.” 🤭 But at the same time, Jadis has always taken an odd and intrusive interest in Richonne's relationship so it was annoying hearing this come from her as well 😑

And this moment is very much giving similar vibes to Richonne’s canon ep in season 6 when they’re fast asleep and Jesus pulls up on them and startles them awake.

(Side note: I was thinking about how Jesus walked in on them in 6.10 and he really was too bold for that. 🙈 Like not only does Paul enter their house in the wee hours, he enters their bedroom. 🙃 And then even seeing that Rick is asleep and naked in bed with someone, he's still like psst we need to talk. And with what he had to talk about...it was important but it wasn't 'roll up on you and your woman in bed' urgent, so he could have waited a minute. 😅 But Paul's bold self barging in made for an iconic moment so I'll take it, even tho he definitely tried it lol.)

Both in the season 6 moment and this episode 5 moment Richonne immediately hops out of bed and grabs weapons and I love how in TOWL there’s sort of a weapon reversal with Michonne grabbing the ax and Rick grabbing a sword.

Two things about Richonne: they sleep very well after a night together & they're also instantly ready to be in fight mode if need be.

And, I love the little detail of having Michonne in Rick’s boxers. 😊 Also the body = ☕️, of course. 💅🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

Jadis tells Michonne to tie Rick to the bed and sit down. They know they’re kinda cornered so Rick drops his weapon. And you just know Rick is extra pissed because he had every intention of starting their morning more like this...

And then I like how Michonne lingers a little bit and just stares Jadis down before dropping her weapon. Baddest 👏🏽 Chick 👏🏽 In 👏🏽 The 👏🏽 Game 👏🏽.

gif cred: @tangerineprettygreen

Once again, if looks could kill Michonne’s stare would have Jadis dropping dead right then and there. I had been very eager for Michonne to have a chance to tear Jadis up after everything she’s done and Michonne looks like she wants to do exactly that now that they’re finally face to face. 💯

So Michonne ties Rick to the bed and then they prove that a couple that death stares together stays together the way they both look at Jadis like it’s about to be her last day on earth.

gif cred: @figmentof

Michonne calmly asks Rick, “You think she’s alone?” And never one to miss an opportunity to call Jadis out, Rick answers, “She’s alone. And I bet nobody knows she’s here.” He knows Jadis acts in self-interest so she’s probably trying to handle this solo to keep the truth about Rick and Michonne from linking back to her.

gif cred: @figmentof

Jadis says, “That’s just rude,” and then y’all, we get more um shall we say 'insight?' into Richonne as a couple when Rick pretty effortlessly tightens Michonne’s zip ties with his teeth. As many have noted, this felt a little too natural to be a first-time thing for them lol. 🤭

gif cred: @figmentof

I love how they so easily operate like a well-oiled machine doing this, and again they seem more inconvenienced than threatened by this snake in front of them. 

One of the many things Michonne and Rick have in common is they aren't afraid to be a little petty with an opp every now and then, so once again Michonne is just talking to Rick like Jadis isn’t even in the room when she asks, “How do you think she found us?”

Michonne's letting Jadis know girl, you don't even deserve to be addressed directly.

gif cred: @figmentof

Jadis realizes this petty couple is probably gonna keep ignoring her unless she interjects, so she says she’s just gonna jump in. And then she explains how she found them. She was suspicious of the circumstances surrounding their disappearance and when she went to the wreck she noticed a missing yellow truck.

As Jadis goes on and on about following their breadcrumbs on the route to Virginia, Rick again doesn’t address Jadis as he tells Michonne, “Nobody knows she’s here.” He’s over this serpent.

And Michonne confidently responds, “She missed her chance. She should’ve killed us while we were sleeping.” Richonne's energy here was really giving 'anyway...back to the conversation.'

Also, Rick and Michonne truly are cut from the same cloth because Michonne saying what Jadis should have done to them in this scene reminded me of Rick in the season 6 premiere when he finds that shady Alexandrian, Carter, going behind his back and he tells Carter how he would have done things if he was in his shoes lol.

Also, I love how within a span of 24 hours, Richonne has had guns pointed at them twice and both times they act like the one with the gun is the one in danger. And they’re correct. 👌🏽

It was fun seeing Richonne operate in the spirit of petty and unbothered together lol. They’re fed up with Jadis and y'all...

Jadis says she didn’t kill them because she previously left things unsaid between a confidante and didn’t want to do that before killing both of them.

Rick accurately tells Jadis about herself when he accuses her of just playing games and not really caring about the army or the city. She really does just play games in this franchise - putting the Anne in shenanigans for years and years. 😪

And Rick calling her Anne seems to get under Jadis' skin as she insists that she does care about the CRM and their mission and she’s not that woman she used to be in TWD. Also - the way Richonne is looking at her while she talks, it’s giving lethal lovebirds. 😌

Despite Jadis’ yapping about who she is now and why she’s doing this, Rick still is adamant that she’s doing this for her. Jadis says if she let Rick and Michonne go home then her important work would end if another officer found them.

And then the snake tries to pull her reoccurring line to Rick by looking at him and saying, “I saved your life.”

Jadis has spent years trying to force that 'life-saving' narrative on Rick but see, this time it goes a little different because now Michonne is here to set the record all the way straight.

gif cred: @taiturner

I appreciate that the second Michonne hears Jadis say she saved Rick's life, she immediately shuts that down and addresses Jadis directly for the first time to remind her, “You took it. You took it from him. You took it from me. You took it from our children.” 👏🏽💯

Exactly.

I love how Michonne is so fiercely defending her family and how she phrases it in a way that makes it clear that Jadis taking Rick took life from him and it took life from each of the members of his immediate family. Their family is their life and in keeping them from each other Jadis really did take so much from them. 😔

And now that Michonne knows Rick had been living while dead with the CRM, she really does mean it when she says Jadis took his life. (Also again, hearing Michonne or Rick say “our children” never gets old.)

Michonne continues, passionately saying, “All those years they grew up without their father. All those years I didn’t know if he was alive or dead.” I’m so glad Michonne got a chance to go off about this because truly these things she's talking about are a big part of why what Jadis did is so appalling.

Judas really forced kids to be without their father for years, and she knew it too. She might not have known about RJ (even tho who knows what Father Gabriel might've told her during one of their meetups) but she knew Rick had a young daughter. She knew he had a wife. And yet she still used Rick as leverage to 'upgrade' her life. So to Jadis I forever say...

And Rick is ready to match the energy and cosign everything Michonne is saying when he declares, “You stole our family, Anne.” 

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Richonne letting this snake finally know the truth of the matter, truly had me like...

But of course, Jadis acts like she doesn’t care and is unmoved by the damage she caused to the Grimes family. 😒

She explains why she didn’t kill Rick and Michonne in their sleep, saying she needed to thank them.

Jadis states, “By dying here today, Alexandria will remain safe and your children will have a better world.” What kind of screwed-up logic has her thinking Judith and RJ will have a better world without their parents in it??? The CRM has people losing their everloving minds. 😑

Once again the subject of 'choices' comes up when Jadis says, “You could have made other choices, but you didn’t lose here. You won a different way. It’s the end of your story. Let that be your peace.”

I don’t exactly know everything that Jadis’ work entailed with the CRM since I think it was explored more in spin-offs which I didn’t watch, but I can tell that she clearly is used to these assassinations going her way. However, baby, this is Richonne so of course they are not about to go out like this.

The second Judas shoots at them, Rick and Michonne quickly get out of dodge. Rick tosses the bed on her and then Michonne is able to get in a much-deserved swipe at Jadis with RJ's ax which feels poetic somehow. 👏🏽 Like after Bowlcut played a big role in RJ not having his dad in his life for the first 7 years, now her time is getting cut short by the very weapon his parents got for him. Idk I just like to think of it as Michonne & RJ getting their lick back. 😋

Jadis scurries away and Michonne is ready to end her asap when she tries to shoot at her but Rick stops her. And the way Michonne says Rick's name, the woman is seeing red when it comes to killing Jadis. And same here, cuz I was yelling at Jadis like...

Rick says they need to go cuz they have to stop her. So Michonne breaks her zip ties as they then head off for a little car chase action where Michonne will remind Rick of exactly why Jadis has gots to go today. 👌🏽😌