#after all he already wears the x so what's one more mark of his loyalty? his obedience? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

binxyu · 3 years

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Jungkook was meant to be just a guilty pleasure. Not your guilty pleasure, but a guilty pleasure. You knew never to fall in love with a man that thought loyalty was showing up on time. He was everything you never needed, but here you were. Your fingers pressed on the trigger that would start the flame of pain.

>>Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (dom) x fem!reader (sub) | fuckboy!jk x witch!reader

>>Word Count: 7.5k

>>Genre: Mini Series / Smut & Angst

>>Warnings/Kinks: Arguments, breast play, creampie, cum play, disloyalty, degrading, exhibitionism, fingering, hair pulling, marking, oral (receiving), praise, unprotected sex, and witchcraft

Jungkook was too beautiful for his own good.

From his pouty lips and sharp jaw line to his starry eyes. The man was perfection.

Even you had fallen for him, a woman that stopped believing in love.

But, all you could do now was remember the times you had together as the fire slowly burns in front of you.

As your love for Jeon Jungkook disappeared into nothingness.

Your fingers typed away at the keyboard, writing the second of three essays you had due. It was nearing the end of the semester and, while you were ecstatic at the mere thought of summer vacation, the stress of exams was looming over you.

“Can you look over this paragraph for me?”, you peeked up over your laptop and nodded, moving your own device out of the way to make room for Namjoon’s. Kim Namjoon was a journalist in the making, a man that knew exactly how to put events into words. He was quite different from you, but study sessions together were always eventful. You were the perfect person to correct his grammar mistakes or to help add detail to his work and he was the perfect person to help explain a certain historical detail you may have missed.

Studying religions was what you had decided was your interest considering your unique practice. You enjoyed learning about the beliefs of people centuries ago but the facts could get scrambled in your brain and that’s where Namjoon came in. He almost seemed to have a never ending timeline in his brain.

“I’d add more emphasize on Jungkook. He did beat the record after all”, you quickly realized when you read the paragraph that he was writing for the school paper again. Despite your attempts to persuade the man that he could do much better with his time, he continued to write for it.

“That’s true. Wait, how did you know about that?”, you let out an amicable chuckle. Of course Namjoon would assume you did not know. Just because you despised sports did not mean you were deaf. The whole school had been talking about the student since the track meet. While you couldn’t remember the exact record he beat, it was still a record.

“People talk”, you shrugged and Namjoon nodded. It was peaceful for a moment as you went back to typing, managing to push aside your emerging migraine. Your body was begging for a good nap, but you had to get this done. You were, among less appealing qualities, a hard worker. Perhaps it was due to the pressure put on you as a child or maybe it was because that diploma was just out of reach. Either way, nothing was going to get in the way of your future.

And, like the biggest fuck you from the universe, Jeon Jungkook walks in.

Yet, you hadn’t realized and kept typing until Namjoon cursed loudly, drawing you out of your world.

“Are you okay?”, your voice was soft before your eyes met the issue. Oh, poor clumsy Namjoon.

He had spilt his coffee all over his shirt, staining the freshly new white blouse he had worn. You couldn’t help but laugh as you dug in your bag for a napkin.

“Don’t bother, it’s too much for a napkin. I’ll go to the restroom. Be right back”, you gave him a brief nod and a thumbs up. Still, you got up with your little pack of napkins and tried to clean up the remaining coffee staining into the table. The librarian is sure to kill you both if it does end up staining the wood. Standing back to examine your work, you almost screamed.

Standing by your laptop was a tall figure with the most sinister smirk you’ve ever seen.

Jeon fucking Jungkook spilt your coffee all over your notes and laptop.

Your mouth hung open for a moment before fury overtook the shock. You stomped up to the broadly built man and yes you didn’t believe in violence as a solution but all you wanted to do was slap the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

“Why did you do that?”, you also wanted to yell but the librarian was already eyeing the table and you couldn’t draw attention to the mess.

“Because I like to watch you suffer, sourpuss”, how have you not killed the man in front of you? You had no idea. Because that name infuriated you.

You knew it was the student’s way of messing with you, wanting to strike that minuscule nerve inside of you. No one else believed you could get angry but Jungkook knew you could. Mostly because he had caused that anger.

“And why is that? Because Jimin told you another lie about me?”, Jeon Jungkook was so impossibly similar to Park Jimin that it was uncanny who he had learned his traits from. Truth be told, you had the smallest crush on the man in front of you during freshmen year. He was so affectionate, caring, and friendly back then.

But, instead of ending up with the sweet heartthrob, you had ended up with Jimin for that year and the next.

Starting out, he was simply a popular boy and loved you with his whole heart. But, time went by and his true colors shun through like the sunlight through your irritatingly useless blinds. He was a playboy. An awfully good one at that for you to have never noticed the extra pairs of undergarments that laid on his floor when you slept over at his dorm.

He cheated, but he blamed it all on you and even Jeon Jungkook hates your guts because you were sure Jimin had told him exactly what he had told most of your friends. That you had broken his heart with your “horrifying” witchcraft and that you were dangerous. It explained why so many students asked to see your devil shrine the next day or tried to barge into your dorm to look at what Jimin talked about.

The most ironic thing was that you had never used magick around the man and you barely used it to begin with. You supposed it was for good reason considering that happened the first time you told someone about it.

“Jimin doesn’t lie. He’s never lied to me and I’m sure you’re well aware of what you did”, his finger jabbed harshly above your breast, just slightly lower than your collarbone. Among many things, Jungkook was dense and forgetful. You noticed that quickly when you started spotted reminders written on his fingers or palm. Just like the little note saying “library 7pm” was written on the finger jabbing you.

Unless the track star had another reason to be in the library he never visited, he wrote that down just to catch you in time.

“Tell me, Jeon. What did I do?”, you tilted your head and moved away from him, realizing the coffee was now leaking onto the floor. You desperately wished Namjoon would hurry up and get back to help you.

“You broke his heart. Using magick or something”, you bit your lips in annoyance and turned around to face him.

“Or something? Jungkook, I never did anything to Jimin. I know you won’t believe it because you look up to him like some god, but he cheated on me. He broke my heart”, you jabbed back, hitting the same spot he hit you, “and, if you haven’t noticed, Jimin doesn’t seem heartbroken, does he?”. If he dared to say yes you may have to use that horrifying magick Jimin lied about because your ex was anything but heartbroken. He was with a new woman almost every night and, even with this knowledge, they lined up to be with him. Who could deny the charming Park Jimin?

Finally, Jungkook shook his head, his curly black hair bouncing as he did the movement. If he wasn’t such a nuisance, you might’ve wished you could run your fingers through it. It looked so fluffy.

“Then, leave me alone. It’s been years of your torment and I’m tired of it”, you sighed and slung your bag over your shoulder after shoving your slightly wet laptop into it, walking out of the library after sending a text to Namjoon that you had felt bad because no one really knew about your fights with Jungkook and Namjoon would surely try to beat his ass if he found out about it.

Leaving the coffee on the table was a bold move but a part of you hoped that the asshole would clean it up. It was his mess after all. Not your’s.

“You’re coming to the track meet, right?”, the voice startled you and you sat up on your bed, making direct eye contact with Kim Taehyung. The only guy with a key to your dorm.

“Tae, I love you but you know I do not do sports”, you grumbled and flopped back onto your bed. Your classes had you beat and the need for a nap was too great to give up. Even if it was for your best friend.

“I know but it would mean so much if you were there”, don’t do it. Don’t do it.

You did it.

You made direct eye contact with those big puppy eyes Taehyung always used to get his way. You had fallen victim once again.

Which was why you had ended up in the cold, shivering as you watched the team run around the track for what felt like an eternity.

Taehyung had done great considering he barely moved before the season but who really stood out was Jungkook. His back muscles were only moments away from ripping through the flimsy shirt he was wearing and sweat was coating his hair. He was aware of how good he looked. He always was. He even was ballsy enough to wink at one of the girls screaming his name in the crowd.

Thankfully, the pleasant bliss that was drinking kept your mind off how irritated you were. You had snuck in a beer to drink (not that everyone else didn’t) and the alcohol loosened you up a bit.

After the meet was over, a sweaty Taehyung was clinging to you like a massive koala. He was high off adrenaline and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cuddle or jump around.

“Tae, take this before you pass out on top of me”, you handed him a water and he gratefully took it, still leaning against you as he chugged down the drink.

Taehyung and you were polar opposites. He was an athlete, quite dorky, a great singer, and was overly optimistic. You, on the other hand, liked to keep to yourself, was not the best of singers, and always stuck to the reality of things. Even if you could manipulate that reality the tiniest bit.

“Let’s get you home”, you let the man lean his weight on you tiredly as you started to walk towards the exit of the field.

“Sourpuss, I need to talk to you”, that voice was definitely not the one you needed to hear when you were this tired and already agitated. What does a girl have to do to spend time in her bed?

“I’m a little busy if you haven’t realized”, you gestured to Taehyung, who was breathing directly on your neck and nuzzling his nose against the skin. It wasn’t an odd gesture considering your close friendship but his face was so cold it send goosebumps down your spine.

“I’ll help”, Jungkook offered, quickly coming to your rescue by crouching down and getting Tae on his back. The man grumbled but was happy to take the ride considering it was less soreness for his legs to endure the next day.

The Jeon Jungkook helping? What a trip.

“What do you want?”, you winced at how rude it sounded. Sure, Jungkook most definitely deserves said rudeness, but he was helping you.

“I’m sorry”, you legitimately thought you were hearing things and turned your head to look at him, stopping in your tracks.

“Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you correctly”, the athlete groaned before turning to look at you, frustration evident on his face.

“I’m sorry. You were right about Jimin. He’s been talking shit behind my back for months and I had no idea”, if it wasn’t for your “told you so” attitude, you would’ve felt sorry for him. Jimin was one of his closest friends after all.

“Hate to say I told you so but”, he glared at you to shut up and you quickly did. His glare was so cold that a shiver went up your spine.

“Sorry, it was a joke. Jimin is really manipulative so don’t let him bring you down”, you reassured him, even bringing your hand up to pat his shoulder. By the way he flinched away, you would’ve assumed your hand was made of lava.

Noted. Jungkook hates being touched.

“I assumed so much about you and that was immature of me”, the man smiled softly at you. It felt like arrows pierced your heart. He had such a cute smile for an asshole. Like a bunny.

“It’s fine. Lots of people assume things about me”, you shrugged as you both started walking again, Taehyung looking down at you to make sure you’re okay. He was like your protective older brother and you couldn’t be more thankful to have him around.

“But they shouldn’t. So what if you follow a different religion? It doesn’t mean you’re evil”, that was probably the first time someone agreed with your practices besides Taehyung and Namjoon (mostly because he understood it better than others).

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot”, you finally smiled back at him, sending his heart right into his chest as his heartbeat picked up. Needless to say, he adored your smile.

“I hate to ask this of you but could you tutor me on Epidemiology? I regret ever taking it and I’ll pay you”, you were wide-eyed with shock to say the least. You didn’t expect Jungkook to go out of his way to learn. Especially, not with you.

“Sure, you can join Namjoon and I in the morning”, you nodded before you saw the way Jungkook’s nose crinkled up in displeasure.

“What? What’s wrong with that?”, he sighed in response to the question as you both reached your dorm building. You’d just let Tae stay with you for the night.

“Namjoon hates my guts. We’re way too different. Besides, aren’t you two dating? I don’t want to be some third wheel”, Jungkook almost sounded disgusted at the idea, probably imagining you making out with Namjoon in front of him.

“I’m not dating him. He’s just the only other intelligent male I can tolerate”, he seemed to relax once you finished speaking but there was still tenseness evident in his shoulders which wasn’t due to the large man on his back.

“I still don’t get along with him despite the fact that he writes about me all the time. He once yelled at me for cheating and wrote an article about it”, that was a slap right to your face. Right, Jungkook was a player and he could throw your feelings aside like one of his cigarettes. Do not get attached.

“Well, don’t cheat”, you said because, let’s be real, it’s the truth. You unlocked the door and helped Taehyung off of his back.

“Bye Koo, thanks again”, your words were quick and you kicked the door closed with your shoe, your hands full thanks to the oversized man child clinging onto you.

Koo. He liked that.

Weeks had ticked by and, somehow, Jungkook had managed to get your number. Honestly, Namjoon probably slipped it out or Taehyung gave it to him. According to Tae, the man had been oddly friendly to him and they were (borderline) friends now. They played video games together, practiced together, and even barged into your place for snacks together.

Great. Now you had two man-children to take care of and feed. It was definitely taking a chunk out of your paycheck each week to get extra snacks for the two. They ate like starving animals whenever they came over. A small part of you even thought it was just to piss you off even more.

Jungkook finally managed to get you to agree for a tutoring session with him. Just one. If this one went well then maybe you would agree to more.

The only sad thing about the session was that it was scheduled to happen right after your last class on Friday in your previous dorm. The dorm you had just finished cleaning up since the last time the two adult toddlers had destroyed it.

Surprisingly, when you had woken up one morning, Jungkook was still there. You assumed he and Tae were too drunk to get back to their own dorms and had decided to just sleepover at your’s. It was quite annoying if you were to be honest, but the way Koo looked actually interested in your religion was enticing.

He didn’t look scared or disgusted when he looked at your little collection of crystals on your desk or the jar resting on your end table sealed with candle wax. If anything, he actually looked amused or even impressed.

“I’ll pick you up after class. I can’t believe you don’t drive and walk to your dorm every day”, Jungkook shook his head as he walked beside you. Coincidentally, your last classes were next to each other but you were shocked to hear him offer to give you a ride.

“Don’t judge me, Mr. Playboy. I just have a fear of hitting someone. Have you seen the lunatics at this campus? They will run out into traffic for fun”, the man chuckled wholeheartedly at the pout on your lips. Plus, your joke was actually pretty accurate. Even he had almost hit a drunk idiot when trying to get back to his dorm late one night.

“Okay, that’s fair. So, you okay with me driving you?”, you nodded cautiously. While Jungkook was guaranteed to know every path to your dorm by now, you were still guarded. Being in that tight of a space with him was going to be difficult.

No, you don’t get those so-called “butterflies” when you were with him. Honestly, those butterflies were typically a bad sign to you. Feeling sick because you loved someone sounded a bit odd and almost contradictory.

You actually found yourself with more powerful emotions than anything. If Jungkook made you angry, you were angry. If he made you happy, you were happy.

Everything just felt so much stronger when you were around him. Thankfully, he almost always made you happy. He made you laugh because, once he discovered that beautiful sound, he couldn’t get enough.

So, after your class, you met him out in the hall and he walked you to his car. Now you realized how such an undetermined man got into college.

He was filthy rich.

Sitting there in the parking spot was a brand new Mercedes Benz. Its black color almost matched the distinct leather jacket that he decided to wear today. It very much screamed Jeon Jungkook.

However, it did not scream you whatsoever. You were almost afraid to get near it.

“Hop in. My grade isn’t getting any lower”, he opened the door for you and you weren’t sure if it was because you were friends, or whatever the fuck you two were, or if it was because he wanted a discount.

That’s not fucking happening. He’s already stolen plenty of money through snacks from your cabinets.

Meekly, you got into the vehicle, immediately buckling your seatbelt as if it was going to hurl itself into motion at any moment. Jungkook shut the door and went around to get into the drivers’ seat. Apparently he trusted his own driving so much that he never wore a seatbelt (Namjoon would’ve had a stroke if he was told that) and he drove with one hand (scratch that- make it two strokes).

Despite those things, he was an actual good driver. You felt safe and he drove the speed limit. Maybe it was just because you were in the car with him?

Getting out of the luxurious leather seats proved to be a hassle considering you knew your seats in your dorm were no where near as comfortable. You could sleep in that passenger seat without a care in the world compared to your own bed. Still, you forced yourself to get out and you two went up to your dorm. Jungkook is way too familiar with the place now considering he barely talks to you. It’s your place and, yet, he comes here for Tae.

“Alright, what unit do you need help on?”, you asked softly as you took the needed supplies out of your bag. You actually already took Epidemiology. It had nothing to do with your major but it was interesting to you. Who wouldn’t want to learn about the science of the world’s biggest killer: disease?

Jungkook simply looked at you, blinking a few times and pressing his tongue into his cheek in that nervous habit you realized he had.

“Oh- for fucks sake, Koo”, you grumbled as you realized how long of a process this was going to be.

It had been months since you began tutoring the student and, finally, there was progress.

Standing proudly with his shoulders back was Jeon Jungkook holding a test with a big number ‘92’ on it in red ink. Your heart swelled with pride.

“I passed! This was the exam review test so I’ll pass the exam, right?”, you smiled brightly as you looked at his excited eyes. You never thought Jungkook would ever be excited over passing a class but you can’t judge people by their covers, right?

“Yeah! Just keep up with the studying and you got it”, you nodded quickly, looking away from his puppy eyes when you felt happiness engulf you like a fire.

Ironically, you were actually playing with fire. Your hand tugged on the trigger and a flame flickered from the end of your lighter. You brought it down and lit the candle in front of you. To be honest, you were a bit of a goodie two shoes but you did break one rule.

No fire in the dorms.

“Hey, I really wanted to thank you. I’m actually passing all my classes now and it fills like my life has purpose again”, woah, didn’t expect that.

“No problem, Koo. Your life always has purpose. What do you mean?”, you looked up from what you were doing, noticing he was leaning against the frame of your door.

“All I did was party and drink. Sure, I was a good athlete but that can only take you so far”, you nodded in understanding and stood up, walking towards him.

He followed your every move like prey waiting for the predator to attack them.

But, instead of an attack, he was met with a warm, genuine, and, all around, great hug.

“Do you think of me as everyone else does?”, you looked up at him, meeting his starry eyes.

Oh, you hated them because of how much you loved them. They held the galaxy within them and you could stare into them for hours if given the chance.

You were many things but, tragically for Jungkook, a liar wasn’t one of them.

“Honestly, I did before. I’ve seen you do some of the things the rumors talk about-“, smoking, cheating, fighting, “but now I know that’s not all you are. There’s more to you, Koo”.

All Jungkook had been able to think about was your words. Sure, he didn’t care about your opinion before but it truly did make him happy to know you thought better of him.

“Jk! Where have you been?”, oh no.

“Jimin? I’ve just been at the gym a lot”, lies. He had been with you a lot.

“Ah, I see. How’s the bet going?”, the shorter man asked, running his fingers through his precisely cut hair. What a born model.

The bet. The bet you had no clue about. The bet Jungkook was too dense to refuse.

“It’s going. She hugged me yesterday”, Jimin scoffed and then chuckled, vastly different sounds that almost made Jungkook double over in fear. Truth be told, he despised Jimin. He despised him because he scared him. The only other man more influential than him was Jimin and that meant Jimin could ruin his reputation in a matter of seconds.

“That’s all? Damn, she really is void of love”, the bet Jimin was referring to was the one he made with the younger at the beginning of the year.

“I bet you can’t make her fall in love with you. She didn’t even love me, Koo! Me! I’m telling you, if you make her fall in love with you then I’ll get you anything you want”.

Time was running out with exams coming up and Jungkook needed to hurry if he was going to win such a bet. But, was it worth it if it meant disappointing you? Jimin may be scary but you made him feel so happy and so proud.

The only time he had seen you disappointed was when Taehyung broke one of your jars, resulting in a mess of coins, herbs, and wax on the floor. That’s the day he decided he never wanted to be on the receiving end of one of those looks.

“Yeah, she’s guarded which is understandable-“, wait- did Jeon Jungkook just grow some balls? “I’d be void of love too if everyone judged me for something I believed in”. He did.

“Where is that coming from? She deserves it, doesn’t she? Come on, JK. Keep that head in the game!”, Jimin patted his head like he was a child with all A’s on his report card, which, for once, was actually true thanks to you.

What game? You? Were you truly just a game to him?

“Alright, I’ve got this”, damn. Maybe you were.

Most nights you found yourself at the library now. It was the only place that was filled with peace and quiet. Especially on a Friday. Not even the librarian was here.

“Guess who”, hands covered your eyes and you would’ve punched the man behind you if you didn’t immediately recognize his husky voice. It was soothing with just the perfect mix of roughness. You couldn’t help but wonder what it sounded like when he just woke up.

“An asshole who thinks it’s okay to sneak up on women in a deserted place”, you grumbled and Jungkook immediately removed his hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, oh here we go. Argument number two thousand.

“I wasn’t scared. I was just saying that, one, you’re an ass and, two, don’t do that to women”, he nodded in agreement and you thought that was the stopping of an argument. Boy, oh boy, were you wrong.

“I won’t anymore but you’re so weak. I’ve scared you so many times now”, you glared at him. Thanks to months of being by Jungkook’s side, you had become a bit more out of control. The feelings you used to keep caged up were now more out in the open. You cussed more often, even tried drinking (and almost spit it out on him), and your frustration was no longer hidden from the world.

“Jungkook, you are a menace to society and I would like it if you leaved”, it was a pointless threat. You didn’t really mean it. You adored his company but you wouldn’t admit that with a gun to your head.

“Liar, you love me”, shit. Did you? No, don’t ask that. It was just a joke.

Damn you and your overthinking.

“No, I hate you. Shut up”, that was also a useless threat. Jungkook never shut up. He was quite the talker and shutting up was not in his vocabulary.

“No, you hate me. Shut up”, he sat on the table you were previously working on, knowing this would take a while. Your arguments always lasted between thirty minutes to two or three hours. You both hated to back down.

“No, I love you. Shut the fuck up”, wait a second-

“As you wish”, he smirked victoriously and leaned closer, his face so close to your’s that you could smell his musky cologne.

“That was wrong”, you glared at him and he shook his head, “don’t open your mouth aga-“ you were cut off as his lips connected with your’s. He kissed you so intensely that your mind was fogged up, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Finally, with your brain still hooked on adrenaline, your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping his well defined face as you kissed back. You could feel him smile into the kiss before he pulled away, leaving a spark traveling down your body. Now, that’s a good feeling.

“Ah, I love when you shut the fuck up”, you were so close to beating him with your bag.

Everything was weird after the kiss. Life wasn’t some fairytale where you both lived happily ever after in some old palace somewhere.

No, you were both actually stuck in that “fuck, what are we?” mess.

Love wasn’t something you could control and that was why you never let it get that far, but, with Jungkook, it felt uncontrollable, spreading like wildfire.

So, you avoided him.

Of course, it wasn’t the most humane or easiest form of dealing with your feelings but it worked.

Well, for a little bit until Koo decided to block you off in the library, cornering you into the back section of the religious books. Oh, how ironic.

“What’s wrong?”, his voice made your knees want to give out. It was early and you assumed he woke up early just to catch you. His attire said that enough from his sweatpants to the tank top hugging his upper body. He obviously just threw something on before he left.

“What are you talking about?”, you tilted your head and tried to act innocent, but, once again, a liar you were not.

“Oh please, you’re obviously pissed off or scared of me or something”, bingo. You were horrified of what you were feeling and, in tune with it, Jungkook.

“I don’t know! Why do you even care? You’re obviously going to pass your exam so what am I needed for anymore?”, you winced at your own words, watching as the man’s usual bright expression turned into a sorrowful one.

“It’s much more than that, y/n”, that was probably one of the first times he had said your name. He usually called you nicknames like princess, sourpuss, or whatever else he came up with depending on his mood.

“Then what is it?”, the stare he gave you made you want to hide further into the corner. It was so predatory that your body was trying to fight its own instincts to run away and avoid the problem. You were always a flight over fight type of girl.

“You”, the one word made your eyebrows furrow, racking your brain for a response or understanding of what he meant. Jungkook shook his head as you watched your face twist in confusion.

“You’re so dense. Why would I kiss you if it wasn’t all for you?”, he leaned closer to you, hand resting on the shelf of the bookcase behind you. You silently thanked the universe that no one else was in there yet.

“Discount?”, it was the first thing you thought of and it caused a low chuckle to rumble out of Jungkook’s chest. He looked up into your eyes and it almost knocked the air out of you.

“Hmm, unless it’s a fuck buddy discount then I don’t think I want it”, he raised an eyebrow cockily and your eyes went wide. Little did Jungkook know that he just complicated your relationship even more.

“And what if I’m okay with making such a discount?”, the student practically groaned at the words, free hand finding its way on your hip, squeezing it. You don’t know where your new found confidence came from but you had gotten rather blunt since hanging out with Jungkook.

“Then I’d say you’re not the person I thought you were”, he hummed, leaning in to whisper in your ear. The way his breath tickled your ear sent sparks through your body.

“Is that what you want? For me to take you here against these books?”, yes you did. Looking around, you were met with many versions of Bible and other holy books of all religions. It was absolutely filthy and wrong to do it there which was why it was perfect.

“Yes, I want that”, your nails dug into the wood behind you, trying to ground your emotions down. It had always been an escape tactic to you.

“How naughty”, now you understood why he had chosen today of all days to corner you. He loved the skirt you were wearing and how easily it gave access to everything delicious underneath. Plus, your legs were perfect to him.

His fingers danced along your thighs before he pushed up your skirt, revealing the black lace panties underneath. Oh, you knew what was going to happen today and you definitely knew Jungkook liked his black.

“So pretty. Just for me?”, the question took you off guard, your own questions flooding your brain. Ultimately, after a few moments of silence, you decided he probably had a possession thing. Who didn’t like to feel powerful?

“Just for you, Koo. Fuck, touch me please”, so you decided to feed his little ego, edging him on until he pulled the panties to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

The dim light of the library truly didn’t do it justice but he couldn’t help himself from finding it to be also perfect. He was in deep shit now.

His long fingers ran down your slit until they reached their destination: your pussy. He rubbed around it before he slowly plunged his middle finger into the wetness, curling against your walls.

Fuck, you always hated that finger but with it inside of you? Maybe you could make an exception.

Your body shook in response to the stimulation since you hadn’t been touched in so long, your hands gripping the wood tighter to keep yourself steady. Jungkook smirked when you clenched around his finger before he added another, stretching you out wonderfully as he scissored you open.

And that was when Jungkook found his favorite sound in the world.

“Jungkook! Oh god”, you moaning his name sounded like music to his ears and he couldn’t get enough. The only thing he hated was how quiet it was since you were still conscious of the library around you. He wanted you to scream it.

“You like that, princess? You want more?”, you obediently nodded, not in the mood to be denied an orgasm (which you were sure Jungkook would do if you didn’t obey). The man chuckled and leaned down, still pumping his fingers steadily as if it took no effort at all. If you had done this yourself then your fingers would have been cramping by now.

Your body jolted when Jungkook’s plump lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly on the nerve as if he was starving. To be fair, he had skipped breakfast.

You feared for the books behind you as your body spasmed, orgasming on the man’s fingers. You took deep breaths once you were finished and watched as Jungkook pulled away, pulling his cum covered fingers out of you.

With prolonged eye contact, he slipped the digits into his mouth and sucked the juices off of them. A new wave of arousal went through you when he tapped your lips with them, making you open your mouth. You gagged briefly when they hit the back of your throat but you sucked on it, licking your way up his middle finger.

“Good girl”, now that was going to haunt you forever. You whined when he pulled his fingers away and he smiled teasingly at you.

“I’m going to need to see these”, your eyes went wide when he gripped the collar of your shirt and ripped it clean down the middle, tossing it aside as if it didn’t cost you a fortune.

“Jeon Jungkook! That was expensive”, you huffed but he paid you no mind, just reaching behind you to remove your bra too so it can join the rest of your clothes.

“What if someone sees? I can’t cover these up quickly, Koo”, you crossed your arms over your chest, looking around cautiously. Jungkook just laughed and pulled your arms away, pinning your wrists above your head so he can press his body against your own.

“Take my shirt off and you can put that over you for the day. It’s fine, sourpuss”, oh you would’ve slapped him if you weren’t so turned on. He let go of your wrists and you quickly removed his shirt for him, revealing a muscular chest you could’ve never imagined.

And he never imagined how beautiful you’d look with your hard nipples pressed against the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. He grabbed them immediately and you failed to see the spark in his eyes as he squished them together.

“That was one of my favorite shirts. What a di-“, you yelped when he pulled your leg up over his shoulder, yanked his pants and boxers down, and pulled your panties aside to rub his angry tip against your folds. Your head rested back as he rubbed against your clit, covering his cock in your juices.

“What a dick indeed”, Jungkook chuckled deeply, arousal blurring his world into nothing but you. The only thing that mattered at that moment was feeling you.

His lips attached to your neck and you were so out of reality that you didn’t realize he was littering the skin with his marks, a silent claim on you as he pushed himself inside of you.

“Oh shit, it’s exactly as I imagined. So tight and warm”, and he was just as you imagined. So very big. You didn’t think anyone else could stretch you out as much as Jeon Jungkook and that thought made you groan.

“You’ve been imagining it?”, it was your turn to smirk and, for the first time ever, the man in front of you blushed.

“Oh please princess. I know you’ve been thinking about it too”, and you had been. Not that you’d ever admit that after he just basically friends with benefits zoned you.

“Just move you asshole”, Jungkook gripped your hair, tugging on the soft strands as he finally kept pushing, bottoming out inside of you perfectly.

His big hands moved to grip your hips, a little help to keep you up as he started to snap his own into your’s. He was mildly uncomfortable at first but, as you adjusted to his size, bliss filled your body.

Finally, you were doing something to make yourself happy and pleased. Maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best man to do it but he was making you feel so so good.

The man snapped you out of your thoughts as he brought your hand down to your clit. You understood and started to rub it, happy knowing that Jungkook was also looking out for your own pleasure too. Not that you’d know he had been thinking about you creaming on his big cock for months now.

“Keep doing that”, he whispered despite the heavy groan that threatened to come out. He was referring to the uncontrollable clenching you were doing around his dick, sucking him into your walls with each muscle movement. You listened and (despite knowing you were going to keep doing it anyways) clenched once again.

“Can I cum inside?”, you whimpered at the idea of Jungkook’s cum filling you up and, knowing you’re on grade A birth control, you nodded. While Jungkook was effortlessly attractive, kids were not part of your plans by far.

“You close too, princess?”, you nodded, a small moan spilling past your lips despite your best efforts to be quiet. With that knowledge, the man orgasmed and you could feel his seed start to coat your insides. The feeling made you tumble over into your own orgasm, coating his softening cock with your release.

“I think that’s the best sex I’ll ever have”, you praised him as you tried to put your cramping leg down off his shoulder. Instead, he held it tighter and pulled himself out of you. He watched as his cum started the spill out of you, dripping down your thighs beautifully.

So, he’s a man who likes to admire his work.

You almost screamed when he pushed it back inside of you with his finger due to the sensitivity.

“See you later, sourpuss”, Jungkook smirked and put your panties back to their original position before he pulled his own boxers and pants back up. He walked off and you were left gobsmacked with his cum dripping out of you onto your panties.

As the weeks passed by, the world became more vibrant and cheerful but also more chilling and worrisome.

Exams were over and you were free to go wherever you pleased but, somehow, you always found yourself wanting to be with what was supposed to be your secret guilty pleasure. Now, he was your everything. He truly brought color into your world; sadly, color always comes with black and white.

“I won the bet, Jimin. I want what I asked for”, you listened intently from the other aisle of books. The library had become your go to spot to find Jungkook. Surprisingly, the once unmotivated student was more frequently in here because of the sheer relief he got when you stood before him with a proud smile. What a softy.

“Really? She fell for you? Damn, you still got it. I can’t believe you asked for this though”, the disgust in your ex’s voice was evident and you so desperately wanted to see what he was referring to. You truly thought Koo had stopped being friends with Jimin after he apologized but apparently you were wrong about a lot of things. Most of all, you were wrong to love again.

Feeling your tears start to spill down your cheeks for the first time in years, you forced yourself out of the library. You should’ve seen it coming. What would a playboy want with you? A woman looking for a serious relationship? You’re an idiot and you’ll fix it.

Said playboy must’ve spotted you because you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you as you rushed out of the library, hurrying into a run with the safety of your dorm in mind. It was time to end this.

So, here you were. Remembering everything from the past few months as the candles in front of you burned, getting so desperately close to the string connecting them. You had carved an evident ‘JK’ on one and your initials on the other, bonding them to the people who needed to be apart from one another.

Watching his candle, you noticed the wax dripping down the long wick and you knew they were tears. You knew because of the loud banging coming from your dorm door, the man on the other side screaming and sobbing for you to let him explain.

Your candle, however, burned strongly with vengeance. It stood so tall compared to Jungkook’s and, as the fire finally burned through the string tying you both together, you felt free. It was like Jeon Jungkook had never affected you before and his name slowly slipped from your mind.

Eventually, the banging stopped as the candles reached their ends and the fire flickered out under your gaze. You felt so blissfully numb as you walked towards the door, opening it to reveal a confused Jungkook looking up at you.

“What did you do? It’s like-“, you cut him off with your hand, pulling him up rather roughly.

“You never knew me. That’s how I want it, Jeon Jungkook. You never knew me and I never knew you. Now, get your prize and leave me alone”, you slammed the door in his face. You felt pure relief but Jungkook could still feel a pang of want in his body.

You had failed to notice the little wax left of his candle that stood strong as you dumped it in the trash and he failed to notice that he had left his “prize” outside your door as he rushed off.

A gorgeous rose quartz necklace.

What a way to declare your love to a witch who just cut it all off.

#binxyu #btsghostie #lsn.works #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook smuts #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshots #jungkook oneshot #bts jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts oneshots #bts scenarios

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unstoppableforcce · 3 years

Text

dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste—no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo #dirty pretty beautiful tag #the punisher

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Mine (Hvitserk x reader)

So this is my (first) contribution to @ofmanderley 300 followers celebration challenge! Congrats again! I’m so excited for you and thankful for the brilliant work you do.

I chose a gif set for my prompt that you can find here. Go check it out!

Warnings: none, this is pure cavity-inducing fluff.

Words: 1300

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

(Note- this gif is not mine. It is apart of the gif set that I chose so all the credit goes to @ofmanderley)

The noon-day sun peered down between the thick clouds, creating pockets of light to shine through and warm the cold ground. Snow did not yet lay on the ground but the chill in the air fogged up one's breath in the early morning.

Mind swirling with thoughts of finalized preparations for winter, Hvitserk trekked towards the Great Hall. An intuitive feeling had him glance over towards the marketplace as he passed it…. only for his movement to abruptly cease. After a moment, he changed direction, strolling over to lean against a wooden post, half-hidden by the stall selling exotic spices.

The seller turned around soundlessly to look at him with a confused expression, probably wondering why one of the princes of Kattegat hid behind his stall. Hvitserk raised a finger and placed it over his smiling lips. The foreign man gave a single nod and turned back to the marketplace, calling out to those walking by in his thick accent.

Hvitserk's gaze returned back to what caught his eyes initially.

You.

Further down the marketplace, an elderly woman spoke animatedly to you from her stand. You gently touched the fabric she sold, making some comment that had both you and the elderly woman smiling. Passing her a coin, you chose one of the muted fabrics and slipped it into the basket hanging off your arm. With a final smile at the seller, you glided away, moving along the bustling marketplace.

No matter how many times Hvitserk's eyes feasted on you, it was never enough. Whenever you were around, he struggled to focus on anything other than you. His brothers teased him mercilessly about it but he did not care. You were worth it.

Especially now.

As you turned sideways to wave at someone calling your name, your belly bump became visible. Only within the past week had it suddenly appeared. It was as if your future child was trying to peek out at the world around them from behind your thick fur cloak already. Your bump constantly pushed aside the cloak no matter how many times you tried to cover it, revealing the life growing within your body.

Pushing off the post, Hvitserk stalked closer to you. He nodded to the few people who called out greetings but refused to let his pursuit be thwarted. Right now, you were his prey and he had every intention to catch you without hindrance.

Your leisurely amble slowed as you stopped at a different stand, admiring the furs laid out.

Sneaking up behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. "Hello, wife." He murmured into your ear.

You stiffened initially, but once he greeted you, your body melted into his embrace. "Hello, husband."

"And how are my two favorite people?"

"Good." You tipped your head to place a quick peck to his lips. "We missed you this morning. When did you leave?"

He hummed then stole another quick kiss before answering. "Early. You looked so peaceful; I didn't want to disturb you."

"Mmmm…. your child kept me up most of the night kicking."

Chuckling, he reached a hand down to touch your protruding belly. "Soon, my little Valkyrie, soon we will get to meet you. Now though, you need to give your mother peace."

With a nod at the seller, he turned you away from the stand. Holding hands, the two of you strolled through the marketplace.

"You still think it's a girl?" You asked, shifting the small basket in your other hand.

"I do."

"Why?"

"For how much she moves. She clearly has her mother's restless, fighting spirit." He answered as if it was obvious.

You laughed, drawing more than one set of eyes towards you at the beauty of the sound. Not that Hvitserk could blame them, you were always beautiful but when you laughed, Freyja herself must be jealous of your radiance.

"What does that say about me now? I feel like all I want to do is lay around in bed." You asked with such an adorable pout, he was half tempted to bite that lower lip right here without a care of onlookers.

"It means, my love, that you are putting energy into a different kind of fight. Besides with how much work it took to charm you into becoming my wife…." he lowered his head, whispering into your ear in a husky tone, "....I would prefer if you never left our bed."

You giggled, letting him steal another kiss as you continued to walk beside your beloved husband. "Well you might get your wish with how this child wears me out already. Are you not headed to meet with your brothers at this time?"

"I was, but I think I prefer to walk back home with you."

"That's sweet of you."

"Yes, you rest when we get back. Lay down and I'll give you a massage."

"Allowing you to massage me was what got me pregnant in the first place."

He smirked shamelessly. "It can't hurt to practice for our next child."

"If…." You pointed a finger at his smug face. "....if we have more children."

Snaking an arm around your waist, he dragged you into a desolate side alley. Though you pretended to protest, you willingly followed him. Standing there alone, he pulled you in, arms around your waist. Your arms automatically raised to lay around his neck, an action almost instinctive by now. Though this time, your belly bump certainly kept more space between you than either of you wanted.

That silly smirk still on his face, he looked down at you almost arrogantly. "Oh, I'm certain it's fated for us to have more."

"And why is that?" You stared up at him amused.

"You can't keep your hands off me."

Cocking your head to the side, he watched you attempt to suppress a smile. "That's not quite how I remember it."

He leaned in closer, mouth hovering just over yours, though his brown eyes remained focused on you. "Do I need to remind you? The claw marks down my back from last night are proof enough of that."

Gods, the way you bit your lower lip so innocently was enough to drive him wild, then when you peered up at him through your lashes, he was a goner every time.

"It's the fighting spirit you like so much." You teased back, tugging lightly on the ends of his braids.

"I do. Though if you didn't fight against my attention so much when I was chasing you, I would have appreciated it."

"You liked the challenge."

"Mmmm." He hummed in agreement. You had made him work for your affections, your time, your respect. Something no other woman had made him do. It was during that relentless pursuit that he realized you were the woman he wanted for his wife, not just another lover; but someone to always fall asleep beside, to love and cherish wholeheartedly, to trust with every part of his soul.

He pressed a soft, tender kiss to your lips. "And now you're mine. Before the gods, you are mine. Forever, my love."

The smile that you gave him was so full of fondness and joy, it was blinding in its simple beauty. This time you lifted up on your toes to kiss him, a tender parting of lips and slow tangle of tongues.

When your mouths finally separated, he dropped to his knees right there in the dirt. He placed his hands on your belly, eyes intent on where his child grew. "And you, my little Valkyrie. I hope you are as strong and beautiful as your mother. For there is nothing in this world as precious to me as she is."

He looked up and met your eyes, seeing tears swimming in them. Rising back to his feet, he cupped your cheeks, gazing into your face with absolute devotion and loyalty. Though he had known many women, there were none like you and he knew with all the same certainty as the daily rising and setting of the sun, there would never be another woman like you. His life. His love. And soon, the mother of his little Valkyrie.

#ofmanderley300 #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x you #hvitserk lothbrok #fluff #mzwrites

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bluebellhairpin · 3 years

Text

The Kings Queen

King!Erwin Smith X Queen!Reader

A/N: It came to me in a daydream; I was MC; and certain British actor was he. And now it is no longer dream, but reality - if only because now in ink. - Nemo

Summary: In order to get his politicians off his back, Erwin needs an heir. The problem is, he isn’t even married yet. An arranged marriage is set, and his new queen is surprised at how compliant he is at waiting until she is ready.

Warnings: Misogyny is a major one here guys. Arranged Marriage. Age gap (he’s in in forties, and mc is in the twenties area). Talk of pregnancy, and children.

Listening to: ‘Once Upon a December’ from Anastasia (piano version)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A month ago it scared you, and scared you now. You stood next to a man you didn’t know, vowing your life to him, and all you could think about was how uncomfortable your corset was, how the headpiece dug in behind your ears, and how much you would rather be anywhere else.

Doing anything else.

Being with anyone else.

You wanted to be curled up on the armchair your grandfather made, your younger sisters at your feet next to the fire, as you read aloud to them from a book they probably didn’t understand. Your mother would be on a couch across from you, needlepoint in hand, and your brother and father would walk in. Your father would kiss your mother’s temple, and your brother would join your sisters on the floor, handing them two small, handcrafted, wooden figures.

But instead you were here.

Standing under a chapel steeple, holding a bouquet that was too heavy, in a dress that had too much fabric. Almost half the city was crammed into the pews behind you, eyes hot and boring right into the back of your skull. Your almost-husband at your side. Your king at your side.

You were getting married to Erwin Smith, and he was the monarch of the land you grew up in.

You knew what was to follow. You knew why you were taken from your content life and thrust into the much higher end of high society. You were to give him a child tonight. An heir. And if it were born a girl, then you were to keep giving until it became a boy, and then some.

You weren’t sure if it were that which scared you most, or that you never got the chance to have found a love of your own. You weren’t giving anything up aside from your family in marrying your king. There was no farm boy or baker's daughter that you were leaving behind nor betraying by speaking the vows that came from your mouth.

No others lips had touched yours, and no one else’s fingers had grazed your wrist as Erwin’s did now. You marked off your shivers and incapability to meet his eyes as nerves, and nothing else.

Before you were taken away by your uncle, your mother told you something. She told you to notice things. Notice the people. Give them what they want, graciously, so that they have want for nothing, and then want of their own to spare.

So when you turned around to face those people, the crown which now held both allies and enemies, with your new husband’s arm wound around your waist, you noticed the people. You saw their smiles and cheers and decided to take your mothers words to heart. They were your people now, you were their queen.

So you fought down the nerves, painted on your best smile, and sent greetings and waves to as many as you could as you made your way to your new home.

You had to admit, like most children, you did gaze upon the castle and it’s stone walls, wondering what life behind them was like.

You had been once before, a garden party when you were younger and your brother was only a tot. It was one of the few parties the lesser and higher nobles alike were invited to. As equals. It was the first Erwin held after he was crowned king. He hadn’t had one like it since.

You remember wandering off into the rose maze with your brother's hand in yours. Being only ten years old, your mind made the brush of thorns and baby-pink blooms into a lot more than what they really were. Whether it were to comfort yourself or to keep your brother calm, you made up a little game.

Somewhere in the maze was a dragon; blood red scales and teeth as long and sharp as kitchen knives, a belly full of flames, and a smell for human flesh. If you stayed stagnant too long, it would find you around the next corner and swallow you up in one gnash of it’s jaws.

But there was also a Prince in the maze; brave, gallant, and knight-like in every way possible. With hair golden like fresh cut hay, and eyes as clear and strong as ocean waves. He would wield a sword with a blade so sharp that one blow would send that dragon straight to its death.

Of course you didn’t tell such things to your brother. They were a bit intense for a four-year-old, so you dulled it down a number of notches.

Imagine your surprise when you ran into someone, with hair the colour of fresh-cut hay, and eyes of the clear blue. He offered you his hand, and told you he’d keep you safe from that ‘dragon’ who was chasing you.

And he did stay true to his word. You did get out of the maze safely, even if there was no dragon he was protecting you and your brother from.

You remember that boy, a man really, and how he was handsome with his youthful features. Back then you didn’t know who he was. Namely that not only a few months ago he really was a prince, and that now he was the king hiding from most of his own party guests.

That was around fifteen years ago, naturally things were a little different this time around.

This time the party was inside, with tables stocked with foods - some you’d never even seen before - and candelabra’s. The room was already filled with guests, chattering and laughing, some even dancing with did bring a smile to your face. There was a group in the corner, playing instruments in all forms available. You had been changed before you joined your husband in a chair slightly smaller than his. Apparently being seen in your wedding dress at your wedding reception wasn’t proper, and that you needed to wear a more dulled-down version to eat.

The corset was just as tight.

You’d barely said more than a few words to him, and now here you were.

You excused yourself early from the celebrations, and no one batted an eyelid. ‘Preparing’ yourself might be proper.

There was a lady, a bit older than yourself, named Nanaba. She helped you out of the stifling corset and the wads of white fabric. The putting on of the night slip and it’s robe was a lot nicer. It did not require a corset, as nice as it might make you look. She sent in for some tea, and once it arrived she excused herself.

You wish you’d spoken to her more. She was nice. And it may have calmed your nerves a little. But you didn’t and you couldn’t will yourself to do anything except cling to the bedpost furthest from the door and wait. Luckily you didn’t have to wait long.

The door opened, and in stepped your king. You found yourself sucking in a breath, nails grazing into the polished wood, and you cast your eyes down to put yourself in check before looking up at him. He looked over at you, smiling lightly and shed his outer layer of clothes before sitting down at one of the chairs near the fire Nanaba lit earlier.

You wondered what he was waiting for.

“Come sit, please.” he said, shuffling a little to set up two dainty tea cups. “This is your home too now, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable.”

You let out a quiet puff of air, playing with the new ring on your finger before making your way over to the chair opposite him.

“You are quite timid, aren’t you?” he mused, offering you a steaming cup, “I supposed though anyone would be all things considered.” He sat back, and you finally took a moment to notice how much he had to be admired. ‘Handsome’ was barely a word to describe him, but those blue eyes, and his hair looked like it would be soft to touch. It made you think of that ‘prince’ from the game you made up in the rose maze outside. What luck would bring you both to meet a second time.

He caught your eye again as he took a sip of his drink.

“You can take comfort in knowing nothing will happen tonight, nor any night in the foreseeable future.” he said, voice hushed and quiet and indeed comforting. “We are barely acquaintances, let alone friends or lovers.”

You couldn’t help but gape at him, letting your tea get colder.

“B-but why? You need a child, I… I-I’m here to give you one -”

“- no, that what all those lords want. The child that they want me to have is going to be yours too. It’s not my body that will be their home for the first nine months of their life. I admit,” he said, setting his cup aside, “I will need an heir eventually, but it’s no matter or urgency to me.”

“Not until I’m ready?”

“Not until you are ready.” he nodded.

“That’s very kind of you, your majesty.”

“Call me Erwin,” he said, taking to his knee as the glow of the fire reflected off his face, “At least when it is just us. Please?”

You let out a laugh, light with nerves and giddy fluttering in your heart, and brought a hand up to your mouth as you turned to compose yourself. You turned back with a smile to see his face matching yours.

Who knew you were seemingly fretting for nothing.

“Only if you also call me by my name.”

It was a well-known fact to even the ‘commoners’ that there were not many men in the kings court who were good people.

Within your first week of living in the palace you knew Erwin was one of them.

Despite his often off and rough ways of getting to and around things, he was a good man. He did have a good heart.

Another was a much older man named Dot Pixis. He had an odd manner of speaking, and his ways were not always perfect. But he always went out of his way to treat you kindly - something many others viewed as easily brushed aside - and he had a loyalty and trust to Erwin that you sensed not everyone had.

You also took kindly to Levi Ackerman and Miche Zacharias, both head guards set to protect Erwin and yourself, respectively. They both did marvelous jobs, for you nor Erwin had been hurt by someone will ill-intent yet. And despite both their quiet natures they were nice. At least Miche was. But they weren’t really ‘in parliament’.

Nile Dok was the only other of those men that didn’t send your gut reeling in some way. He had a family on his own, too, and you’d seen how he treated them the morning after your wedding night. He truly loved them, and a man who loved his family like that was one who you trusted. Your own father was like that with you.

Many other new friends were found in your new home, too. Hange was the head librarian, and with the help of Moblit the rows and rows of books were kept - not organized per say - but everything did have a place.

There were those in the kitchens, and the gardeners, maids, and military personnel. You made sure to greet them all when you could. You were more than happy when they returned the gesture, even if a little more than some of them didn’t.

But there were people you didn’t trust at all. They made your skin crawl. You knew you didn’t come from a lot, and didn’t expect the same respect that Erwin had, but what they showed towards you? Even Nanaba commented how you should be treated better.

However they would never treat you any less than a queen unless you were with Erwin. Unless you were with your husband, the most powerful man in the country. As much as you liked Erwin, and come to even love him in some very small way over such a short amount of time, you didn’t like that.

You didn’t like how you couldn’t get their respect unless you were standing next to him.

So you made up your mind.

#medieval au #erwin smith x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #king erwin #commander erwin smith x reader #call me the au master

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reinerispretty · 3 years

Text

little moments. zuko x f!reader rotations bonus

HI UM!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 2K!!!!! i love each and every one of u with my WHOLE HEART!!!!

i was trying to think of something special to do that everyone would enjoy, so why not a good callback to the reason why most of us are here hehehe

when i wrote rotations, there were lots of avenues that i thought of taking after the fall of ba sing se! in the fic, (y/n) is arrested, and i posted a bonus already of how it would have ended if she had escaped with sokka and the rest of the gaang. HOWEVER, i did think of her taking azula up on her offer of going back to the fire nation and being there with zuko (insert side eye emoji)

so that’s what this is! a little rotations bonus to say thank you so much for sticking with me!!

She had contemplated it as she was in her room on the ship. Of running away and finding Sokka, Katara, and Toph. She would tell them that she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough.

The weight of what she had done settled into her stomach as soon as (Y/N) opened her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling of one of the guest bedrooms in the Earth King’s palace, needles dancing behind her eyes. For the first time in months, she was completely alone.

Azula had offered her immunity if she chose to join her. All would be forgiven if (Y/N) would just join them and return to her home, her real home. The mainland of the Fire Nation and the inner workings of palace life. It would be like nothing had changed. And (Y/N) had said yes.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to betray her friends. It was something that Sokka had discussed with her, in the event that she was captured.

A knock sounded against the heavy green door. (Y/N) sat up against the fluffy green pillows and called whoever it was in. Servants filtered in, carrying bundles of clothing, brushes, soaps, and dishes of water. One stopped at the foot of her bed. “The Princess has asked that you ready yourself to see her in the throne room.”

(Y/N) nodded silently and slipped out of the bed. The servants guided her to a chair in front of a vanity where they worked at her appearance.

Looking in the mirror was difficult. (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, as she was dressed in the traditional clothing of her nation, she kept her eyes cast downward and remained silent as the servants scrubbed the dirt from her nails and face and brushed the knots from her hair. It was as if, little by little, evidence of her time with Aang, Katara, Toph, and Sokka was being erased.

Sokka. She thought back to their conversation on the floor of their house in Ba Sing Se, shrouded in darkness as they whispered to each other. “Do what you can to keep yourself safe,” He had said quietly. “Pretend that you like them or something. When you can, meet back up with us and tell us about the Fire Lord’s plan.”

“I’m not leaving you guys,” She had scoffed, hoping that Sokka’s request of her was fake. Did he really expect her to leave her friends? The people who had become her family?

Sokka had turned over on his stomach to look at her. “You’re our best chance at gathering intel about the Fire Nation. They know you there, they trust you.”

“Not anymore,” She pointed out. Sokka shrugged.

“They have a soft spot for you. You’re one of our advantages, (Y/N). If given the opportunity, I need you to take it.”

She had turned over, staring straight into his sky blue eyes. She rested her chin on her palm. She wasn’t taking Sokka seriously, so she had humored him. “Fine,” She agreed. “If Azula wanders up to me and asks me to go back, I’ll play spy.”

Sokka’s face remained serious despite her joking tone. “I don’t want you to do this either,” He had told her. “If you get into any serious danger, just come back to m--us.”

(Y/N) had laughed. “Danger? In the Fire Nation? No way.”

In the present, (Y/N) dared to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was done in the traditional Fire Nation topknot, flowing freely down her back. She looked as she had over a year ago. Beloved daughter of the Fire Nation with a miserable glint in her eye. Was this who she had always been? She swallowed thickly to press down the tears.

She had learned to trust Sokka’s judgment overtime. It was a good plan. She was the only one that could do it. But it hadn’t been a day and she already couldn’t wait to be reunited with her friends. In the meantime, she would have to do her best to pretend that this was the life she wanted. One of cruelty and submission.

She had sat in the palace the night before, as Zuko and Azula fought Katara and Aang in the caverns below the city. She had watched Appa fly away, with no knowledge of how her friends had fared during the fight.

Once she was done getting ready, (Y/N) dismissed the servants. She walked quietly to the throne room, her head down. When she entered, Azula was sat in the Earth King’s throne, still wearing her Earth Kingdom disguise. Mai and Ty Lee were seated at the steps beneath her. The one person she was expecting to see was absent.

Ty Lee’s face lit up when she saw (Y/N), and as soon as she finished her bow, the young acrobat cartwheeled over to her and gave her a hug. (Y/N’s) first instinct was to stiffen, but she fought it and squeezed Ty Lee as hard as she could.

“It’s so good to have you back!” Ty Lee exclaimed, clasping (Y/N’s) cheeks between her hands. “I’ve never seen your aura look better!”

“That’s...great?” (Y/N) questioned, furrowing her brows. Her eyes drifted over to Mai, who picked her nails with the blades of her darts.

“Hey.” Was all she said. Well, that was alright. Mai and (Y/N) had never been very close.

“Good morning,” Azula drawled, a smile curling on her lips. (Y/N) was unsure if it was genuine or menacing. Both were to be expected when dealing with Azula. “I’ve talked to Father. He’s willing to fully pardon you for your crimes.”

“That’s--” (Y/N) swallowed. “That’s very generous of the Fire Lord.”

“Yes. I told him all about the poison the Avatar and his friends put into your head. Without guidance from me, you were easily influenced.” Azula adjusted her position in the throne, tucking her legs beneath herself. She looked like she belonged there. “Father and I both agreed that it would be best if I kept you close. You need support from your real friends.”

(Y/N) knew what this was, and Azula did too. It was not something from the kindness of the young princess’s heart. It was a way to control (Y/N), to make sure that she wouldn’t stray. A single misstep and it was likely that she would be six feet under. It was even more likely that Azula would put her there herself.

(Y/N) tried as hard as she could to smile gratefully. “Thank you, Azula. Please give your father my thanks.” The doors to the throne room opened then, revealing Zuko. He was dressed in a royal Fire Nation robe, but his green Earth Kingdom clothes still poked out from beneath the red fabric. (Y/N) liked to think that she had become very vigilant in her time running from the Fire Nation, so she noticed the way Mai’s face lit up just slightly at his appearance.

He looked over at (Y/N), his eyes widening in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, then immediately shut it. She stared back at him, her eyes boring into his. While it may appear that she and Zuko were on the same side, she had no intention of forgiving him for turning on Iroh. For throwing away all the progress he had made in his time away from the Fire Nation. He was so close to becoming the version of himself that she always believed he could be and he had thrown it all away for trivial acceptance.

Zuko was the first to turn away and (Y/N) looked back to Ty Lee.

“Can you tell me about the boy you were traveling with?” Ty Lee questioned. “The one with the ponytail?”

“Yes, (Y/N),” Azula said. “Do tell us all about your time with the Avatar and his friends. I’d like to know what they’re planning.”

“His name is Sokka,” (Y/N) told Ty Lee, trying her hardest to not show any amount of affection in her voice. “And I don’t know what they’re planning. They never trusted me enough to share.” She stared straight into Azula’s golden eyes. Azula was a skilled liar, but (Y/N) had grown up with her. She had a lot more tricks up her sleeve than the princess would anticipate.

Azula narrowed her fine eyebrows. “That’s quite alright. I suppose we don’t have much to worry about, considering Zuko killed the Avatar.”

(Y/N) had to hold in her gasp or else she would be jeopardizing everything she was here for. There was no way Aang could be gone. He was the connection between the Spirit World and the Human World. Wouldn’t they be able to feel it?

She curled her hands into fists, her nails pressing crescent shaped marks into her skin. “You should be thanking him,” Said Azula. (Y/N’s) eyes slid across the room to Zuko. He stared at his sister, his own brow furrowed in confusion. “Go on. Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) said quietly to Zuko. She hated how silent he was being. If Aang was gone, then Zuko would now be dead to her. He had done something unforgivable. If he didn’t understand the weight of his actions now, then he never would.

“Our ship leaves tonight,” Azula announced, standing up and stretching her body. “We should be back home by morning. (Y/N), you’ll be staying in the palace with Zuzu and I, since your parents failed to protect you from the Avatar.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) repeated, perhaps because her brain couldn’t think of anything else.

“Father also wants to have an audience with you,” Azula said as she skipped down the steps. She strode over to (Y/N), the same mischievous glint in her eye. “Something about loyalty.” Azula’s smile was menacing.

(Y/N) swallowed. She was in way over her head.

---

Their ship docked in the royal port, just below the palace. Guards escorted (Y/N) off of the ship, which was horribly embarrassing. Truly they couldn’t think of her as that big of a threat to require guards? Perhaps they had thought she might try to escape. She had contemplated it as she was in her room on the ship. Of running away and finding Sokka, Katara, and Toph. She would tell them that she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough.

But as she lie awake that night, she thought of everything Aang had sacrificed in order to ensure that they would have a better life. If he was truly gone, it would a disservice to their entire cause if she couldn’t risk something the way her beloved friend had. It was intimidating, being surrounded by those she had fought for so long, but (Y/N) was different now. She wasn’t the girl that they thought they knew. Her time with her friends had changed her for the better.

So, (Y/N) stepped off the ship and back onto the Fire Nation mainland with her chin held high, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. If she were to be believable, she had to exude confidence, even if she was scared out of her mind. Her confidence began to falter as the guards walked her past Zuko and Azula, past Mai and Ty Lee, and to the room that she remembered to be the Fire Lord’s throne room.

She had not set foot into this room since she was nine, when she had exhibited her firebending skills for Fire Lord Azulon. So much had changed since then. If she had thought Azulon was intimidating then, Ozai was something to be feared.

He sat on his throne, red flames shooting up in columns on either side. As soon as she was before him, the guards left, and (Y/N) fell into a bow. She absolutely despised groveling, but she knew it was what needed to be done in order to survive beneath the Fire Lord’s nose.

She tried her best to bring back all the information of Fire Nation etiquette that had gathered dust at the back of her mind. After a few moments of silence, she rose and sat on her knees, hands folded in her lap as she stared forward at Ozai. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding her gaze. (Y/N) tried her best to come across as shameful.

“You have grown since the last time you were in these halls,” The Fire Lord spoke. His voice was calm, too calm for someone who was talking to a traitor. (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath.

“My lord,” She said, her voice shaky from nerves. “I am so, so sorry for betraying our nation. I deserve to be thrown into prison and never let out.”

“Is that what you want?” Ozai questioned. “To be rotting in a cell?” (Y/N) curled her fingers into her dress and made a rash decision. She looked at the Fire Lord and stared directly into his amber eyes.

“I want to prove myself to the nation. And to you. I was a foolish girl. After Zuko’s banishment, I was heartbroken. I let my feelings get the better of me.” There was some truth to her lies. She wasn’t foolish, nor did she want to prove herself, but Zuko’s banishment had only been a catalyst for how she felt about the Fire Nation.

“I don’t give second chances.” (Y/N) felt a tugging at her heart. She couldn’t report to her friends from jail. Or if she was dead. “But perhaps you can redeem yourself after your punishment.” (Y/N’s) eyebrow quirked up curiously.

Ozai plucked a metal rod from his side and stood, walking down to meet her. (Y/N) knew what it was. Their words for ‘traitor’ were cast into iron at the end of the rod, which was already heating up from Ozai’s touch. The brand was given to those who had betrayed the nation, so that all would know of their treachery. They considered it to be a better option that rotting in jail or being executed.

(Y/N) gulped. She had never seen a branding performed, but she had heard the screams as Ursa had ushered her, Azula, and Zuko away from the palace when they were young. It was a practice that not even Azulon had instituted. It was purely of Ozai’s crafting.

“Your arm,” Ozai said, gesturing to her right arm. (Y/N) pulled up her sleeve. She could feel her body getting hot, the fight or flight instincts kicking in and begging her to run. As a native to the Fire Nation and a firebender, she was able to withstand a great amount of heat. Which meant that the poker needed to be thousands of degrees hotter than the average in order to brand her skin. “This is a punishment for your own actions,” Ozai sneered. “You brought this upon yourself.”

The hot poker pressed into the skin of her forearm and (Y/N) had to bite down as hard as she possibly could on her bottom lip to keep herself from shouting, but it was no use. The pain was unbearable, shooting up her arm and reverberating on every nerve within her body. She couldn’t control her shrill screams as they echoed in the massive hall. Hot tears streamed down her face as she watched what Ozai was doing to her. She should have escaped when she had the chance, should have told Sokka no, she couldn’t return to the Fire Nation. She had been a child then, she wouldn’t be safe from the horrors that Ozai inflicted on others.

He removed the iron from her skin and (Y/N) collapsed in on herself, her body shaking with sobs. She knew that showing weakness was even more dangerous now than ever before, but this was a treatment that was reserved for seasoned war criminals, not fifteen year old girls. She looked up at Ozai through cloudy eyes, barely able to see through her tears. “Thank you, my lord,” She said, her voice shaky and small because her throat was clouded with sobs.

“You are dismissed,” He said as he returned to his position on his throne, not bothering to look back at her. (Y/N) stood on wobbly legs and bowed once more before walking slowly out of the throne room. As soon as she was beyond its doors, she started running. She couldn’t even see where she was going, but her feet carried her to the only place she knew would help.

She sobbed heavily as she reached the turtle duck pond, dropping to her knees and shoving her arm into the cool water. The turtle ducks quacked and flapped away from her, but (Y/N) couldn’t care. She wanted Katara, whose healing powers would ease the burning pain shooting up and down her arm. She wanted to be held, to be reassured that everything would be alright. She cried, her tears dripping into the pond water. It probably wasn’t the most sanitary situation, but the coolness of the water helped ease her pain just slightly.

“(Y/N)?” Zuko’s voice sounded far away in her ears. “What happened?”

(Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to look any farther up than his boots. She felt so tired, but she couldn’t afford to pass out. She couldn’t let her guard down once while in this place. “Just go away,” She said meekly, the fingers on her other hand clawing into the soft grass.

“Father gave her her punishment,” Azula said from the other side of (Y/N). Having the both of them here was the absolute last thing she wanted. Azula pulled her arm from the pond and wrapped cool towels around her burn. (Y/N) hissed in pain, but she had to admit that it was better than the pond water. “If it makes you feel any better,” continued Azula nonchalantly. “You passed his test.”

“You knew about this?” Zuko demanded, his eyes wild with anger. Azula scoffed.

“Relax, Zuzu. It’s just a little burn.” Delirious, (Y/N) laughed bitterly. Her ragged breathing was starting to even out.

Zuko bent down at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) shrugged it off and stood, refusing to look at him. She wiped the tears from her eyes and removed the towels from her arm. ‘Traitor’ was beginning to blister on her skin. It would be something that remained with her for the rest of her life.

She looked up at Azula. “Can you take me to my room?”

“You should probably go to the infirmary,” Zuko suggested.

“Zuko, I heard that Mai was looking for you,” Azula’s voice was laced with spite that stung both Zuko and (Y/N). Azula linked her arm with (Y/N’s) good one and led her back into the palace.

“Father said it was necessary for you to understand the damage you’ve done,” Azula said lowly to (Y/N). “You weren’t only a nuisance to me, you know. The whole Fire Nation was ashamed of you.” Azula giggled. She had a way of making jokes out of insults, but once she saw (Y/N’s) face, her own softened. “It will heal.”

“Will there be more tests to prove my willingness?” (Y/N) questioned. “If they’re worse than this, I don’t know if I’ll survive.”

“That’s all Father had planned for you.” (Y/N) noticed how Azula failed to mention if she had any tests for her. With a deep sigh, (Y/N) hoped that her friends were better off than she was.

---

A nurse had visited (Y/N’s) room to tend to her wound. The expression on her face had been a mixture of disgust and pity. (Y/N) hadn’t had the energy to leave her bed for a few days, which she recognized was putting her mission in jeopardy. She was supposed to be gathering information, not wallowing beneath the blankets.

After the nurse had dressed her bandages, (Y/N) decided it was best to finally roam about the palace. There was still a stinging sensation on her skin whenever it rubbed against the fabric of her dress, but she tried her best to ignore it as she walked through the halls of the Royal Palace, as well as memory lane. The place had become considerably more focused on Ozai rather than the greatness of the Fire Nation. Servants scampered about in fear, careful not to cross her path. She didn’t recognize anyone that she saw. (Y/N) used to know everyone by name. She guessed that they had either fled the palace or had been fired. Or worse.

Being there felt like being out of place in your own home. Thinking back on her past felt like looking into someone else’s life.

She paused at the tapestries of the Fire Lords, staring up at Ozai’s looming figure. He looked the most menacing, and perhaps that was because he was the most dangerous. There was only a month until the Day of the Black Sun, but that seemed like such a short amount of time to figure out how to defeat Ozai.

“It’s different,” Zuko said at her side, and (Y/N) jumped in surprise, clutching a hand to her heart. “Being back here after so long,” He elaborated.

(Y/N) hummed. If she were being honest, she avoided Zuko as much as she could. She felt as though she couldn’t stand to be around him. If she were alone with him for too long, she might end up beating him senseless.

“Why did you come back?” Zuko questioned. “I thought you were happy with them.”

“I guess we both don’t know each other as well as we thought,” (Y/N) said, keeping her voice as level as possible. She looked at Zuko, her face devoid of emotion. “I’m not here for you.”

Zuko frowned. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Good.” She turned to walk away, but Zuko grabbed her by the sleeve of her robes.

“If you’re here, why are you mad at me? You’ve forgiven everyone else.”

“You killed my friend,” She said quietly. “How could I ever forgive you for doing that?”

“That wasn’t--” Zuko huffed, lowering his voice. “I didn’t kill Aang. Azula used her lightning on him.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You would trust Azula over me?”

“You of all people should know that you can’t trust anyone here.” She crossed her arms over one another, wincing at the contact of her wound. “Why would Azula lie?”

“Azula always lies,” Zuko said, repeating the mantra they had created when they were kids. “Why would it matter to you what happened in the underground city? You left them. You betrayed them.” (Y/N) flinched.

“And you feel so confident after abandoning your uncle?” Zuko’s eyes sparked with anger. After all this time, at least she knew exactly what buttons to push. “I cared about them,” She said, choosing her words very carefully. “I spent months with them, it was impossible not to. If they had killed you, I would be feeling the same way.” (Y/N) swallowed. “But they wouldn’t have. They’re different from you and me.”

She left him then, her heart pounding against her chest. Part of her wished that she could reach out to Zuko, to make him see all the wrong that their nation was causing the world, but she knew it would be too dangerous. Zuko’s loyalties lay with his family and Mai now. He might have been (Y/N’s) once, but he was no longer.

---

“Are you really going to stay under that umbrella the whole time?” Ty Lee pouted, grabbing (Y/N) by the arm. “The whole point of going to the beach is to get some sun!”

(Y/N) poked her feet from beneath the umbrella, wiggling her toes in the warm sand. She pointed at them. “They’re getting sun.” Ty Lee sighed, retreating back to her towel on the beach, where dozens of boys were already waiting for her. (Y/N) adjusted on her own beach chair, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders. The words etched into her arm would be a dead giveaway to the children of Fire Nation aristocracy that littered Ember Island. It would cause more trouble than it was worth.

“I’m surprised you’re not running into the water,” Mai said in her monotonous voice. “I thought you loved to swim.”

“Yeah, I’d just rather not draw attention to the ugly branding on my arm,” (Y/N) said offhandedly, digging into her beach bag for a pack of fire flakes. She offered some to Mai, who took a few and shook them into her palm. The girls ate together quietly.

“It’s better than getting sent to Boiling Rock,” Mai said and (Y/N) snorted.

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but it didn’t feel like it in the moment.” Mai’s dark eyes glanced at (Y/N’s) arm, ‘traitor’ slightly visible beneath the sheerness of her shawl.

“I didn’t think they were actually going to do it,” Mai admitted. “Azula begged her dad not to execute you.”

(Y/N) coughed from surprise and also from the heat of the fire flakes. “Well, I’m glad to hear I was saved from a worse fate.” Zuko returned then, taking a seat between Mai and (Y/N). He handed his girlfriend ice cream, which promptly fell on her lap.

She hadn’t been on Ember Island for many summers, but things rarely changed on the tourist destination. Her family used to have a house on the opposite side of the island. She wondered who occupied it now.

Azula squatted at (Y/N’s) other side. “We’ve been invited to a party,” She announced, a triumphant smile on her face. (Y/N) sighed.

“I don’t really think I’m up for a party,” She said, and Azula’s fingers wrapped around her arm, pressing into the healing skin.

“Please? You have to come!” Azula demanded, but her smile seemed genuine. (Y/N) coughed.

“Azula? My arm.” Azula lifted her hands immediately, giving her a look that was almost apologetic.

“You have to come,” Azula repeated. “I already told them to expect the five of us.”

So (Y/N) was forced to attend a Fire Nation party. If the children of these diplomats had annoyed her as kids, she couldn’t stand them as teenagers. (Y/N) kept to the wall, preferring to people watch and nibble on the stacked plate she had snagged from the food table. She had traded her shawl for a long-sleeved shirt that had been buried in the back of Lo and Li’s closet. It was definitely old fashioned, but (Y/N) didn’t really care.

As she watched, (Y/N) thought of how she had never actually been to a party. Growing up, there were certain obligations and expectations that she needed to uphold. Being betrothed to Zuko meant taking lessons and maintaining appearances. She had gone to an all girl’s school for a short amount of time before being pulled out of her lessons to be tutored at the palace. Really, her entire childhood had consisted of Zuko, Azula, and other adults.

“Hey, how’s it going?” One boy asked, walking up to her and leaning against the wall. (Y/N) jumped in surprise, nearly spilling her food. When did she get so jumpy? Perhaps it was a side effect of constantly being on edge.

“Uh, hi,” She said, unsure why this boy was talking to her. Is this what happened at parties? People just walked up to other people without formal introductions? She felt so lame.

“I’m Lee,” He said, and (Y/N) snorted, because the Fire Nation had a million Lee’s and Zuko had been one of them. Her eyes cut over to the prince, who stood brooding in a corner as he watched his girlfriend.

“Sorry,” (Y/N) apologized, turning back to the boy. “I have so many friends named Lee. I’m (Y/N).” She took a bite of a carrot to punctuate her sentence.

“Is this your first time on the island?” Lee asked, resting his back against the wall as she had. His eyes were a nice light brown, his hair black and shoulder-length and tied half up in the back. He was likely a whole foot taller than (Y/N).

She shook her head. “I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. But y’know, life gets in the way so I haven’t been back in a few years.”

“So where are you from?” He had a lot of questions.

“The mainland,” (Y/N) answered. She wanted to be honest, as keeping up lies tended to be difficult, but she didn’t want to tell him that she was currently living at the palace. “And you?”

“I’m from a smaller island off the coast of the mainland. My dad’s the mayor there.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” (Y/N) realized she had a hard time talking to boys that she didn’t know almost everything about. She set her empty plate in the trash can and extended her hand to him, watching carefully so that her sleeves would not roll up. “Do you want to dance?”

“Dance?” He questioned. (Y/N) smiled.

“There’s music and an empty floor. That implies dancing.”

“I don’t think--” She grabbed him by the hand anyway, leading him to the middle of the floor.

“My grandfather taught me this one,” She told him, and she started dancing. It was another lie. Aang had taught her the traditional Fire Nation dances from his childhood, one night while their group was camped by a river bank and feeling incredibly bored. She had had no idea that her culture had once had a history of anything other than war, but learning the dance moves had excited her.

“Like this?” Lee asked, repeating her movements. (Y/N) nodded her head excitedly.

“Exactly!” She looked around the room and locked eyes with Ty Lee, who was always willing to have a fun time. She gestured for her to join her and once Ty Lee ran to the middle, other boys started flocking to the center to dance with them.

For a while, (Y/N) forgot about her mission and the friends she had left behind. Later, this would make her sad. But for right now, she felt like a regular girl in the Fire Nation.

Lee had pulled her close and spun her around so fast that she had been practically thrown from the crowd of dancers, spinning around the room until she eventually bumped into someone. (Y/N) laughed out an apology as the person gripped her forearms to steady her balance. When she looked up, she stared straight at Zuko.

She had allowed herself to stare, for a few seconds. The last time they had been this close, he had been preparing for his Agni Kai. The pink and red skin of his scar might have been off-putting to some, but (Y/N) thought he looked as lovely as the first day she had met him. She wanted to reach her hand up and touch him, to feel the contrast between soft cheek and rough scar tissue, but as soon as she had that thought, she pushed it away.

“Sorry,” She repeated as she separated herself from Zuko. The mood was ruined. She remembered everything that he had done, everything that she had left behind, and soon she went back to her spot on the wall, watching as the others danced happily.

---

They had left the party, but really they had been thrown out. Zuko had been jealous of boys talking to Mai, so they had broken up, but then Zuko had started a fight? (Y/N) wasn’t necessarily sure what had happened. One moment she was moving back toward the snack table, the next Azula was pulling her out of the house by her collar.

They sat on the beach now, surrounding the fire that (Y/N) had started. She remained quiet as they listed their qualms with each other, and with the universe. Her eyes remained focused on the flames as she processed the information and thought of any way that Sokka might be able to use it against them. But then a pit settled in her stomach. These were personal things that they were sharing, and it didn’t seem right to expose them so viciously.

“You’re just going to be quiet?” Zuko demanded, his voice rough and laced with annoyance. Her eyes snapped toward him, a frown placing itself upon her features.

“We’re all sharing,” Ty Lee said gently from her right. “Even Azula shared something.” (Y/N’s) eyes cut to Azula, who looked at her expectantly.

“I think I’m alright.” She didn’t want to risk exposing herself. She wasn’t even sure what was safe to say. These were her childhood friends, but who knew what would happen if she revealed even a fraction of how she really felt.

“Do you think you’re too good for us?” Zuko questioned, staring down at her. His voice was hard, laced with attitude as it normally was, but he seemed curious. “You spend time with the Avatar and his buddies and now you’re stuck with second rate friends?”

“I chose to come back,” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes at Zuko.

“It feels like you picked second best,” Azula said. (Y/N) locked eyes with her from across the fire. “We’re not idiots, we know you enjoyed your time with them. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have abandoned the life you had.”

“You all seem to forget that the life I had wasn’t the life that I wanted,” (Y/N) said, staring at each of the people that surrounded her. “I was sent away from the only home I had ever known, from the only people that I had ever known, to live in an Earth Kingdom colony. My father thought I was a disappointment and my mother hated everything I did, and the people that I thought cared about me left me behind without a second thought.” She paused, turning to Zuko. “Did any of you even think about me? Even bother to consider how I might have felt? You’re all so concerned with your own lives, you always have been. I was alone. I might have made mistakes, but that’s what happens when you’re desperate for someone to care about you.”

She firebended into the dying flames, causing them to shoot toward the sky.

“Why come back then?” Mai asked.

(Y/N) hesitated for a split second, but it was just long enough for Zuko to notice. “People fighting against the Fire Nation aren’t always eager to have someone from the Fire Nation with them.” She shrugged. “I just wanted to belong somewhere.”

Ty Lee scrambled over to her, wrapping her arms around (Y/N). “You belong with us!” (Y/N) insisted. “We never wanted to fight you. We would always feel so horrible about it after.”

(Y/N) gave her a light smile. “I would, too.” She risked casting a glance over at Azula, who refused to meet her eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if she had messed everything up or if she was still in the clear.

They let the fire die eventually, and one by one, each of the teenagers began returning to the house, until (Y/N) was the last one left. She had moved further down the beach where the tide splashed against the sand. It was a warm summer night on Ember Island, and the water was just right. The only light surrounding her was the light of the full moon, which cast a lovely silver glow on everything.

“Hi, Yue,” She sighed, splashing her fingers into the water. “I wish there was a way that you could tell me they were okay.”

She heard shuffling from behind her and turned around, surprised to see Zuko walking toward her. She turned back, facing the water once more. “I’ll be back to the house in a few minutes, I just wanted to sit for a while.”

He sat in the sand, just a foot away from her. (Y/N) held in her sigh. Zuko was the last person she wanted sitting with her right now. She wanted to hate him for everything that he had done, but then she looked at him and all she wanted to do was talk to him. The inner conflict that he gave her was enough to put her in a sour mood for hours.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Zuko said quietly. (Y/N) turned to him and furrowed her brows. “No one would tell me.” His eyes met hers. “Or else I would have written.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, feeling her cheeks become hot. “It was years ago. It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“If it didn’t matter to you, you wouldn’t have said it.” Sometimes it hit (Y/N) that just as she knew the inner workings of Zuko, her knew her as well. “I meant it, when I said that I thought of you every day.”

“I meant what I said too,” (Y/N) said quietly. “But things are different now. You’re Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, not Lee from the tea shop.”

“I’m still who I was in Ba Sing Se.” She shook her head.

“You think that, but we both know what being back here really means.” Being back in the Fire Nation meant Zuko had reverted back to who he once was, someone eager to please his father, no matter the cost.

Zuko was quiet, as if he didn’t know what to say. She was surprised with how calm he was being. Perhaps the full moon had an odd effect on everyone.

“Can I ask you something?” (Y/N) questioned, and Zuko nodded. “Was Azula really the one to kill Aang?”

He hesitated, but then he nodded. “He was in his Avatar State and she struck him with lightning.”

(Y/N) pushed back the tears that threatened to spill over. Even with Zuko, she couldn’t truly show herself. “Why’d she tell everyone it was you?”

“To get me in my father’s good graces.” He scoffed. “To save herself in case it didn’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Katara and I were trapped in the caves, she told me that she had water from the Spirit World pool in the Northern Water Tribe.” Zuko shook his head. “I-I don’t know what could have happened, but there’s something telling me that no one really knows what happened to Aang.”

That gave (Y/N) all the hope that she needed. Aang was safe. He was alright.

“So, if Aang is alive and your father thinks you failed...” She did not want to finish her sentence. She met Zuko’s golden eyes once more. “After everything he’s done, why did you come back?”

“Same reason as you, I guess. I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere.”

She had never considered that Zuko had been feeling alone during his time with Iroh. She had been conflicted over her loyalties, but it had only lasted a few moments until she made the choice to join Team Avatar. She was confident that she was doing the right thing, but there was more at stake for Zuko.

“You didn’t swim today,” he said suddenly.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I didn’t want anyone to see my arm,” She said simply, but Zuko winced.

“I...I didn’t know he was going to do that. If I had, I would’ve--” (Y/N) shook her head to stop him.

“We both know firsthand what he’s capable of. I wouldn’t have wanted you to put yourself in a position like that.” She touched her arm, where beneath the fabric of her sleeve lay the raised marks of the brand that was still healing. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be laughing about it in a few years.”

Zuko glanced at the water, then back to (Y/N). “Do you want to go swimming?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to protest, but Zuko didn’t seem to be having it. “You love swimming.” And it was true, she did love to swim. She had spent hours in the water during their trips to this island as children. Her mother had had to practically drag her from the beach.

(Y/N) stood and removed her top layer of clothes, revealing the bathing suit beneath. Without hesitating, she ran into the warm water, diving beneath the calm waves. When she resurfaced, Zuko was only a few paces away from her, the robe that he had been wearing left in a pile beside her own clothes on the beach.

“The water’s colder than I remember,” Zuko called out to her, just as she dove beneath the waves once more.

“It was definitely like this when we were young, we were just stubborn,” (Y/N) laughed. Zuko swam over to her. She stood on her toes as the water came to her shoulders, but it only reached Zuko’s chest. “Your hair is still dry,” She pointed out and Zuko rolled his eyes, plugging his nose and dipping beneath the surface for a few seconds. When he came back up, he was significantly closer to (Y/N) than he had been before.

“Is that better?” He asked, shaking out his hair so water droplets splashed on her face. She laughed and shoved him backward to get him to stop.

He staggered backwards and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her under with him. (Y/N) opened her eyes beneath the waves, feeling the familiar stinging sensation that had been a staple of her childhood. Zuko’s eyes were closed as he held his breath. He had never gotten used to opening his eyes underwater, it had seemed.

(Y/N) pulled them up toward the surface, both inhaling a sharp breath of air. As she went to settle on her feet, she bobbed beneath the waves. They had traveled much farther from the shore than she had expected.

Zuko reached out for her, wrapping his arm around her middle to keep her above the water. He could still stand, which (Y/N) hated. “The last time we swam here, I was taller than you,” (Y/N) said, staring up at him. He smiled down at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling. The skin of his scar tried to repeat the action of its counterpart, but it couldn’t quite do it.

(Y/N) couldn’t keep her eyes off of his scar. She knew it wasn’t entirely polite, but she was curious. He had left the Fire Nation before it had healed. When they encountered each other, she was never very close to him. Even at the party, she had only seen it up close for a few seconds.

“I’ve never seen it this close,” She told him, her voice as soft as the moonlight that surrounded them. Zuko’s cheeks flushed.

“It’s pretty bad, huh?” His eyes were trained on her, but she wasn’t noticing. She furrowed her brows and shook her head.

“I like it,” She said simply. It was Zuko’s turn to furrow his brows.

“You can’t be serious.” (Y/N) shrugged, lifting her right hand to touch his cheek like she had wanted to at the party. Zuko stiffened and nearly dropped her into the ocean. Her thumb, light as a feather, traced over the pink and red skin. Some areas felt smooth and silky, while others were rougher. She traced over the brow bone where his eyebrow had once been.

His eyes fell to her forearm, where his father’s punishment was still healing on her skin. He wrapped his fingers around her arm, lightly tracing the word with his own thumb.

“For the record,” He said, eyes still focused on her arm. “I don’t think you’re a traitor.”

A few moments passed before he looked up at her again. Her eyes were soft, sparkling in the reflection of the moonlight that bounced off of the water. The corners of her lips were turned upward in a soft smile. Her hand remained cupping the side of the face and Zuko sighed, leaning into her touch.

“You’re really beautiful,” She told him, stroking his scar once more. “I don’t think I ever told you that.” Her heart was beating so hard against her chest. This was the stupid power that Zuko had over her. She had been so mad at him just a few hours ago, but if she allowed it, he wormed his way back into her heart.

Zuko’s eyes widened in surprise at her statement. He parted his lips to say something, but no words would come to mind. She dizzied him, jumbled his thoughts until he was a mess of unspoken words and dumbfounded faces.

It was slow as it happened, thoughtful. He rested his forehead against hers, their noses just barely touching as he stared at her through half-lidded eyes. He would give her time. If she wanted to pull away, she would.

She didn’t. Her other hand took its place on his bicep, fingers curling gently into his skin. Her lips parted, her lashes batting upward as she stared into his amber eyes. Zuko was all that she could see and feel. Her heart continued to pound against her chest. If he wanted to do something, he would.

Zuko’s eyes fluttered shut as he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss. They were softer than he had ever imagined. The little gasp she let out made him pull her closer. He didn’t want any space between them. His hand left its place at her arm and traveled up to where she caressed his cheek, wrapping his fingers around her palm.

(Y/N’s) eyes had remained open for a split second before she closed them, pressing into Zuko as she kissed back. She was completely thoughtless. Everything else in the world was absent as she melted into him, the hand at his arm moving to the back of his neck to pull him toward her even more. She had thought of this moment many times, but nothing could compare to the warmth that encompassed her heart as she kissed Zuko.

When they pulled apart for air, it was as if (Y/N) had been pulled back into the real world. She stared at Zuko, her eyes wide as she realized what they had just done.

“Mai,” They said at the same time, horrified looks reaching both of their faces. (Y/N) hated herself. She had gotten caught up in the moment and taken something that didn’t belong to her. (Y/N) scrambled out of Zuko’s arms.

“We don’t speak of this ever again,” She told him, her voice stern. Zuko nodded silently. “This was a mistake. That’s all it was.” With that, she dove into the waves, swimming as fast as she could back to the shore.

---

She avoided Zuko during the rest of their time at Ember Island, and once they had returned to the palace as well. If they ended up in the same corridor, one of them would turn around and walk back from where they had come from. It made (Y/N’s) heart ache, but she knew it was for the best. She felt horrible for doing something like that to Mai. She didn’t know what had become of her, and now she didn’t trust herself to be around Zuko at all.

So, she focused on her mission. Every little snippet that she heard walking through the hallways would be recorded on a scroll, which would then be kept on her person at all times. She had witnessed on more than one occassion Azula leaving her room and looking particularly pleased with herself. (Y/N) would never leave anything incriminating lying around.

Still, she needed to figure out how to get a message to Sokka. The palace had messenger hawks, but she needed to know where to send one and she had absolutely no idea where her friends were. The Day of the Black Sun was the next day. To (Y/N), it seemed as though her best bet would be to leave the mainland quickly and rendezvous with one of the groups they had recruited for the invasion. If she could steal one of the palace’s boats, she could row herself to one of the islands off the coast and either find someone she knew or find someone who knew how to get a message out.

Guards were not posted outside of her doors during the day, so (Y/N) made a hasty knapsack from one of her robes and began shoving a few belongings in it. Bread she had sneaked from the kitchens, a piece of parchment and a pen, and a map all fit securely inside. She was packing it once more when her door opened suddenly and she yelped, scrambling to cover her belongings with her bedsheets.

“I need to tell you something,” Zuko said as he shut the door behind her. (Y/N) felt her face heat up.

“You can’t be in here!” She hissed, reaching forward to shove Zuko out of her room. The last thing she needed was Azula seeing them alone together. She would undoubtedly tell Mai, which would cause more problems than (Y/N) needed on her last day in the Fire Nation.

“Just wait a second!” Zuko demanded, keeping his voice low. “I just got out of one of my father’s war meetings. They’re planning to burn down the towns of those who haven’t surrendered yet.”

(Y/N) halted her movements of trying to get him out of her room. She eyed him warily. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I know you’ve been working with the Avatar.” (Y/N’s) body stiffened, but she rolled her eyes.

“This again. Zuko, I already told you--”

“You don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know that’s the real reason you’re here is to get information for your friends. I can’t let my father or Azula do this. I want to help you.”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

“I know you wouldn’t come back unless you had a really good reason. As soon as I heard you say that they were suspicious of you, I knew that was a lie. I saw how you guys were with each other. They care about you.”

(Y/N) swallowed. In a whisper, she said, “I’m leaving tonight. I can tell them about this before--”

“The invasion,” Zuko finished. “My father and Azula know about that, too.”

(Y/N) felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Everything that they had been working so hard for would be for nothing. She had to get to her friends and let them know they had been exposed. “I need to leave now.” She moved to go back to her knapsack, but Zuko grabbed her by the arm.

“They’re suspicious of you, too. If they catch you, it’ll be much worse than a burn.”

“I can’t just stay here and watch my friends fail!”

“I have a plan,” Zuko assured her. “You just have to trust me.”

(Y/N) eyed him. His hand still held her arm. Zuko stared up at her. She had never seen him look so sincere. With a deep breath, she nodded.

---

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eatyourchancletas · 3 years

Text

SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

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AUTHOR’S NOTE | woops, finally have chapter 3 here! alex wasn’t able to finish it so i (monnie) did, but alex edited it so it was a smooth process. please like and reblog!! feedback is greatly appreciated!! please excuse any mistakes!

WORD COUNT | 4.7k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

hongjoong had gathered everyone around, gaze settled upon his members. “this mission is very important. we’ve managed to get a good deal. he says if he manages to make a good first impression with us, he’ll be willing to work with us at a smaller price.”

everyone nodded along, understanding what he was trying to say: don’t mess this up.

the leader continued as everyone seemed to catch the drift, “but we’re going to be very careful with this. we don’t put ourselves out there, so i don’t know how he knows our reputation enough to want to further business before we’ve even started.”

seonghwa perked up, arms tightening around himself, “that means old business is talking.” hongjoong nodded, letting him know they were both on the same page.

after a moment of silence, hongjoong sucked his teeth and looked up at y/n, eyes holding an emotion the older couldn’t read. the two held eye contact for barely 3 seconds before hongjoong spoke in yeosang’s direction. “i want you to stay here with y/n,” at those words, the younger gave a look that explained his feelings very well, y/n thought.

yeosang thought this was bullshit, but he couldn’t speak out on it because he trusted hongjoong knew well enough. “don’t take it personal, i don’t trust y/n fully. we don’t know what can happen.”

yeosang could only nod, deciding against disobeying hongjoong’s orders.

“alright, everyone get ready. we leave in an hour, i wanna get there early. scope out the place.”

y/n felt ashamed and angry.

ever since the group left for the mission, almost an hour ago, yeosang has been rude and treating him like he was the cause of all his problems. he felt ashamed because yeosang’s bruteness made him feel, somewhat, small and embarrassed, like it was his fault they were in this situation.

“get out of my way,” yeosang had shoved y/n on the way to the kitchen. the older stared dumbfounded, patience wearing thin.

“a simple excuse me would’ve been nice.”

yeosang scoffed, opening the refrigerator. if there was one thing that bothered him, it was being on babysitting duty.

“yeah, well i’m not exactly in the mood to play around and be all goody-two-shoes. so you know what would be nice?” he directed a sharp glare to y/n, not giving him a chance to answer his rhetorical question, “if you would fuck off.”

y/n bit his tongue, sizing up the smaller. his thoughts blocked his irritation, taking in the fact that yeosang was a gang member. he’s pretty sure size wouldn’t inconvenience the younger when handling a physical situation, much less a verbal one.

the doctor went to walk away as yeosang placed a plate in the microwave, until he noticed red markings on the skin of yeosang’s wrist, his shirt sleeve sliding down as his arm lifted. “are you okay?”

“last i checked, i didn’t ask for some psychological evaluation. so for the love of god-”

“no- i meant your wrist… is your wrist okay?”

a barely noticeable blush covered yeosang’s ears, “i’m fine. it’s nothing.”

y/n’s head tilted, an unsure look on his face.“do… do you mind if i take a look at it?”

yeosang stilled, the low hum of the microwave filling in the silence. he hesitated, but decided against it, knowing yunho had told him he needed to get it looked at because there wasn’t much he could do.

his eyes drifted to y/n, his arm slowly gravitating in the direction of y/n, a silent approval. the doctor carefully walked forward, gently grabbing yeosang’s hand and pulling the sleeve slightly. a small gasp left his mouth, the sleeve barely pulled back but the wound already looked pretty bad. “do you have a first aid kit?”

the metal lid of the small trash can clinked as it swung back and forth, ointment-clotted swabs and bandage wrappers crinkling within the confinement. “thank you,” yeosang’s voice was small, his upset mood dissipating as time went on.

“it’s no problem,” y/n finished wrapping yeosang’s wrist, careful not to make it too tight, “that was a second degree burn though… how’d you get it?”

yeosang looked down, a blush settling on his cheeks. his head dropped and his feet swung under the medical cot he sat on. he mumbled something, biting his lip afterwards, and y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “i’m sorry, what was that?” and yeosang mumbled once more, y/n still not hearing what he said. “huh?”

“i said i burned myself trying to help seognhwa hyung make your meals!”

y/n blinked, “oh.”

and for the next few moments, it was deadly silent, the ticking of the wall clock echoing. y/n couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer, clearing his throat, “well, next time you get hurt, please don’t be afraid to come to me. it’d give me something to do, i already feel pretty useless and lonely here, to be honest.”

yeosang looked up, his feet no longer swinging, and a confused look on his face. “you’re not useless. we wouldn’t have kept you alive if you were.”

at that moment y/n inhaled, not knowing how to respond to that. “uh, jeez, that uh… hm, that makes me feel better… i guess?” a moment passed before the two chuckled, a comedic break turning out to be a lot more comforting than they expected.

minutes passed, their conversation dying down into light replies and subtle smiles when yeosang asked a question that threw the doctor off. “do you know anyone by the name of heeseung?”

dozens of thoughts raced through y/n’s mind; why does he want to know? is heeseung okay? did he do something he wasn’t supposed to?

“. . . yes.” but y/n couldn’t ask any further because before he knew it, yeosang had nodded and gotten down from the cot, walking out of the infirmary area.

meanwhile, miles away the others had arrived at the meeting spot, every member cautiously looking out for anything strange. seonghwa began pulling in closer to the black van adjacent to theirs, letting hongjoong and wooyoung scout to make sure this was the man they were meeting with.

after confirmation that this was dongwoo, they holstered their weapons within the waistbands of their trousers and exited the van.

“have you got it?” hongjoong cut to the chase; he was quite a brute person when it came to work. and dongwoo and his people wanted to make a good first impression? he’d see how well he could handle him.

“yep, got a truckload of ak-47’s, m16’s, and a couple 9mm’s. all smuggled from america.”

hongjoong pursed his lips, an impressed nod making dongwoo’s ego subtly inflate. word on the street said no one had successfully managed to smuggle weapons, specifically guns, to ateez without the korean law getting too heavily involved. the trader always got caught, and ateez always made sure to utilize their connections and silence those who they couldn’t trust to keep their mouths shut.

hongjoong had to go to some expensive lengths just to get the glock 17’s they used now. the quality of the gun proved its worth though, they learned. however, it was rare that they resorted to guns—they didn’t rely on them unless they themselves were in danger or if someone needed to be silenced quickly.

“looks good to me,” hongjoong complimented, turning his head slightly toward wooyoung, “bring out their payment.”

wooyoung nodded briefly, bringing his hands from behind his back, a large herbal drink-branded bag being showcased. dongwoo raised a brow, peeking over and catching a glimpse of the rolls of cash that filled the bag to the brim.

“thank you for your service,” hongjoong beckoned wooyoung to hand the bag to dongwoo, before he went to step toward his shipment.

“wait, what?”

at dongwoo’s abruptness, san stepped forward, “what do you mean ‘what’? take the deal or leav—” his words died down and he cowered back when hongjoong’s sharp glare met his eyes, immediately silencing him.

the leader clasped his hands behind his back and made a sharp turn toward the man. “is there something wrong?” his head was tilted and a curious look was on his face, there shouldn’t have been anything wrong with this offer and if there was, there was only a problem on dongwoo’s side. call it being ignorant, but hongjoong didn’t say he never had a problem because he wanted to be cocky and egotistic. it was simply the truth.

out of every issue he and the others had encountered with a deal, none had gone wrong on their part. it was part of the reason their group was at the top—they were efficient business partners and leaders. something only went wrong when non-mutual expectations weren’t met.

“there’s no ‘we’re looking forward to doing future business with you’?”

a small smirk had taken over hongjoong’s lips, hidden by the hanging of his head. “mr. yoo, we further business with those of the same intentions as us. do you, perhaps, know what those intentions are?”

dongwoo stood dumbfounded; of everything he heard about ateez and their leader, he didn’t think to find out just what their goal was.

“it seems you don’t know, so i’ll tell you. we, ateez, have come this far from one thing and one thing only—loyalty. when i heard your proposition of your first impression leading to cheaper traders, something was a little off,” his eyes squinted and he bought his pointer finger and thumb to barely touch, “you know a little too much, don’t you think?”

dongwoo’s eyes widened slightly but he recovered, however, it was noticeable. “what are you talking about?”

“someone’s been talking, haven’t they? leaking information about us that they, most certainly, weren’t warranted to give, but you probably don’t know much—you’re not the loose tie that needs to be cut off,” he looked dongwoo dead in the eyes as his own narrowed, “i hope.”

his intimidating stare lasted for a few moments more before a light smile covered his face, eye lightening. “take your payment, we’ll be taking our things and leaving.”

hongjoong gave a nod of his head, him and the rest of ateez splitting up to hook the small weapon-filled-trailer to their own vehicle, dongwoo and his men pulling off once it was unattached.

“boss, i don’t feel so good about this right now. i think we should hurry and get out of here.” yunho spoke, a hand rubbing at the hairs that stood on the back of his neck. hongjoong didn’t question further, sharing the suspenseful feeling that creeped up his spine, giving a prompt nod.

after 5 minutes were spent attaching the trailer and making sure they were ready to go, seonghwa started the engine and waited for everyone to get in. just as san and mingi were about to get in the van, the screeching of tires sounded nearby.

“get down!” and bullets went flying.

“do you like raisin bran?”

y/n gave a slight nod, folding his hands in front of him. “sure!” yeosang held the box in the air, stopping mid-grab.

“aren’t you a doctor? raisin bran has a lot of sugar…”

y/n shrugged his shoulders, standing to get bowls for the both of them, “i’m a doctor, not a dentist. besides, i’m quite the sugar addict. with the injuries i see and multiple hour surgeries i perform, i need some type of a high—so sugar high it is!”

yeosang laughed, shaking his head and setting the cereal box on the counter before grabbing the milk from the fridge. “quick question doc,” yeosang began and y/n looked at him, setting the bowls and spoons down. “milk first or cereal?”

yeosang held a laugh in when y/n had a visibly offended look on his face, a hand pressing to his chest. “yeosang, please tell me you put cereal fi—”

“shit! y/n where the fuck are you?!” someone had frantically shouted from the front of the house, yeosang and y/n giving each other a worried look before tripping over their own feet to reach the living room.

“oh my—what happened?!”

“fuck,” hongjoong let out a belligerent roar, “get him to the infirmary!”

y/n panicked, grabbing onto the injured man and hoisting him up into his arms, rushing to the infirmary. he looked down at the paled man in his arms, huffing out a breath of air, “don’t worry san, i’ve got you!”

san lies on the medical cot, eyes still and closed and chest rising and falling in a calming pattern. y/n is sitting next to him, checking his vitals every few minutes and making sure his labs are okay. after verifying everything is stable, he sat the clipboard down, closing his own eyes and lying his head in his arms on the cot, dozing off.

it’d been about 3 hours since san was bought in like this. y/n could’ve laughed at how freaked out he was earlier—san’s injuries weren’t even the worst he’s ever seen or treated, but your emotions and professionalism change when the person lying on your operating table is someone you have a nice relationship with… and when said patient’s fellow gang members are breathing down your neck, reminding you that there’s no other option than survival for him...

“how is he?” hongjoong’s voice startled y/n out of his exhausted haze, the older jumping in his spot.

“he’s fine now. if you’d have been any later, he would have coded… and i can’t do much for coding outside a hospital.”

the leader nodded his head, his chest and shoulders dropping slightly as if he could finally breathe. y/n watched him, watched how hongjoong toed around the cot, staring san’s unconscious form down.

y/n fumbled with his fingers, running over his next words in his head before just blurting them. “is it hard?”

“what do you mean?”

he shrugged his shoulders, looking at the shorter, “being a leader… having to watch over everyone,” he held eye contact with the leader, trying to read his expression, “it must be suffocating when something happens to one of them.”

hongjoong’s tongue swiped over his teeth as he stared the taller down. the air around them was tense—hongjoong knew y/n meant good by his words, but he’s not the type of person to just get emotional with people, especially those who aren’t exactly close to him. the others may see y/n as someone more than a hostage, but to hongjoong, he was just that. a person they were taking advantage of—a person who was only cooperative because his life was on the line.

“we’re going to head back to the shooting scene and see if we can find anything that’ll lead us to dongwoo, son-of-a-bitch. wooyoung and yeosang will stay with you and san… so let them know if you or san needs anything.” y/n cleared his throat, giving a curt nod before standing up and walking toward the cabinets, desperate to escape the awkward and tense aura.

when he heard the door to the infirmary shut, signaling hongjoong had left, he let out a sigh before starting to occupy himself again. he opened a cabinet, grabbing a roll of gauze—it was time to change san’s dressings.

as he made his way back to the cot, he noticed san was now awake and it caused him to stop in his tracks. “when did you wake up?”

“unfortunately, when it got awkward,” san watched y/n’s face fall, a look of embarrassment overtaking his tired features. he held back a teasing smile, leaning back on his arms, although hissing in pain and sitting back up when the pressure sent a stabbing pain through his side and shoulder. he watched y/n walk toward him and lift his clean shirt to start snipping at the dirtied gauze anchored around his naked shoulder.

a few moments went by of y/n re-bandaging and wrapping san’s wounds before the injured boy’s head tilted to the side. he didn’t know if it was because he was high off pain meds or if it was because he’s been so deprived of seeing an unfamiliar face… but y/n looked really handsome and flattering. even thinking about feeling that way sent a drunk feeling to san’s head, his mind getting lost and going blank in the echoing cavity of his skull. it was no secret to himself that he was rather flexible when it came to his romantic relationships and feelings, but he was still foreign to it.

he decided to push it to the back of his mind, feeling rather rushed and irrational at the moment, “y/n hyung… are you feeling better now?”

the older turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “i should be asking that—you’re the one who got shot in the shoulder and stomach,” he pulled san’s shirt back down, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder. he turned around for a moment before turning back and wrapping san’s arm in a sling.

“thank you,” the younger softly spoke, before continuing, “i just noticed you’re more at ease with all of...this. it’s almost a complete 180 from when we first met.”

the doctor’s hands froze against his own lap, a sigh leaving his mouth and his eyes fluttering in a blink of realization, “i guess so.”

“they’re not here—”

hongjoong sighed through his nose, looking rather composed; and the others thought it wasn’t much of a deal until the leader kicked the seat in front of him, scaring seonghwa, who was in the driver’s seat. “call yeosang.”

“been here for a while, what’s up.” said male spoke through their communicator, sounding calm and unbothered.

“can you please stop doing th—can you find anything about dongwoo’s whereabouts?”

“give me a sec,” the boy registered, the clicking of a keyboard sounding into the communication device.

“alright so while yeosang’s doing what should have been done, please tell me why there wasn’t an extensive amount of research on this client?” hongjoong was pissed. not only did their transaction end in a one-sided gunfight, it ended up with one of their own having more than one bullet wound.

wooyoung swallowed, knowing damn well the question was aimed at him. “hyung, i did do research. i made sure to look up what links he has with other businesses and everything that i could think of. i’ve never failed at doing so-”

“then why did you fail this time?”

it got heavily quiet, seonghwa looking at his boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. no one uttered a breath and looked away from a fidgeting wooyoung.

“aight i’m back.”

hongjoong ignored seonghwa’s prompting gaze, “what did you find?”

“nothing. they’re good at covering their tracks and maybe that’s why wooyoung couldn't find much. usually, we resort to hacking, but i’ve never seen these sorts of codes before and if you want me to break the wall down it will take longer than what you’d want.”

the leader sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose while bouncing his right leg. “No it’s fine, we’ll just hope dongwoo and his crew don’t appear again.”

“but hyung, isn’t that a little reckless-”

“you shouldn’t be one to speak right now.” hongjoong turned to glare at wooyoung, the younger male pursing his lips and nodding. “everyone get in the car, we're going back.”

“...so i’m not going to try and hack this? aw.”

“what’s wrong?” san frowned as wooyoung sulked while sitting next to him on the cot.

“hyung’s mad with me…”

y/n had his back facing them, trying to arrange the mess that was on the counter where all the ointments and supplies were. yunho had came in earlier to apologize for not keeping it organized, his exact words being “i just clean up their wounds as best as i can, and i’m not really in here unless it’s an emergency.”

san lingered a glance at y/n as if the older would do the same. “is it because of dongwoo?”

the younger nodded with a pout, leaning on san’s side. “mhm, and he hasn’t talked to me since.”

“well you know joong-hyung, he’s…” san thought for a few seconds, and when he couldn't find the words, he bit the inside of his cheek. “ he’ll get over it, just give it time. or talk to seonghwa-hyung, he’ll know what to do, he always does.”

wooyoung whined, “i already did! and he said ‘i can’t do anything’ with that pained smile of his!”

san blinked, “what? you’re lying, hwa-hyung would never fail us-”

“no no, i was there. he talked to hongjoong-hyung before wooyoung came up to him...or at least tried. joong-hyung isn’t talking to anyone right now. that’s why hwa-hyung told you he can’t do anything.”

“yeo, i swear you’re the nosiest person ever. like, please, i’m not sure if that’s good or bad sometimes.” san grimaced after processing yeosang’s comment through the earpiece.

“as far as i know it’s done us more good than bad. plus, it’s my job to be nosy, remember? we all get paid for things, and i get paid for sticking my nose up yall’s business.”

“wait you do that 24/7?” wooyoung frowned.

“uh, no. sometimes i don’t even intend to do it, ya’ll loud as fuck so sometimes i don’t even need the communicators. and i only comment on things that mean something. and before you ask this did not mean anything, i just wanted to join in the conversation.”

san snorted, “then why didn’t you just walk in here?”

“cus i’m busy right now.”

“doing what?” wooyoung grabbed san’s hand and played with his friend’s fingers.

“doing what i was not authorized to do—hack that wall.”

“won’t you get in trouble?”

“maybe,” the sound of him smacking his lips sounded, “but at least i won’t be given the silent treatment.”

wooyoung sat up. “yah! yeosang i will come down there and kick you!” when he heard no response he jumped off the cot and walked out the room, “yeosang i warned you!”

while hearing his best friend yell down the hall, san laughed. his attention returned to y/n who had his head tilted and a confused look on his face. “what’s wrong, hyung?”

“how...were you two talking to yeosang?”

san hummed, smiling while tapping the clear earpiece in his ear. “we have them on unless we’re showering and sleeping or something. but when we’re on duty we have them on, speaking of that, i’ll tell jongho to get you one-”

y/n shook his hands in front of him as san was about to move, “you shouldn’t move too much, you might reopen a wound. i’ll call him…” y/n’s voice died down when he realized what he was volunteering to do.

at the sudden look of horror on y/n’s face, san laughed.

“don’t worry, jongho’s just a buff teddy bear unless in danger. but for now, i’ll call him over.” san raised his hand to his earpiece, making y/n question why he couldn’t do that before. “jongho, can you bring an earpiece for y/n?”

san nodded when the younger agreed, saying he’ll be there shortly. he lowered his hand and rested it on his lap. “have you gotten along with anyone here yet?” he tried to spark conversation with the doctor, highly interested in him and feeling the need to know more about him.

“aside from yeosang, seonghwa and you, uh, not really. maybe yunho? i mean, he’s never showed any sign of hatred towards me so i guess we get along decent too...but i haven’t really had a chance to meet the others.”

the younger nodded, “well we may look tough and all, but i promise we’re all chill. hongjoong-hyung is only tough and straightforward when he’s on the lookout. just give him some time and you’ll see how nice and caring he is.”

y/n hummed, “i guess..”

“i have arrived with the product~” jongho smiled while walking inside the room, a box in hand. “once you put it on it will send yeosang a message and he’ll grant access to it.”

san watched jongho gesture y/n to grab it, but he took it before the doctor did. “here, i’ll put it in for you.”

jongho did his best to not snort or laugh, leaning against the wall instead. he watched san help y/n with setting up the earpiece, amused at how san seemed interested in the doctor.

“ok done, yeosang should grant access soon.” san smiled at y/n, the doctor returning it with his own.

a few minutes of quiet tension passed and jongho felt the need to do something; he pressed the button on the side of his earpiece. “yeosang-hyung, are you not going to-”

“give me a second, i just kicked wooyoung out. if he goes up there with a black eye don’t question it, he’ll say what happened without you asking.”

“you didn’t actually give him a black eye did you-”

“if he did then that can easily be taken care of…” y/n commented while watching jongho roll his eyes.

“yeah i did-”

“no he didn’t.” wooyoung butted in, it sounded like he was munching on something. “it was the other way around-”

san chuckled, shaking his head at his friend's bickering. he realized y/n’s earpiece was successfully connected when he saw the older grin.

“i bet they both have a black eye.” y/n nodded to himself.

jongho rose a brow, a grin prominent on his features. “and how much are we betting?”

y/n hummed, “thirty bucks.”

“i wanna bet too~,” san grinned, “let’s check it out then. can i move now?”

“hmm...i’d say no but you probably wouldn’t really listen to me so... as long as you don’t make sharp movements.”

san cheered, extending his free arm to get help in getting off the cot. “let’s go then!”

“hello?”

“mrs. l/n! how are you? it’s heeseung...lim heeseung.”

the woman on the other end of the phone gasped in what sounded like happiness, “heeseung! It’s been a while since i last heard of you, is something wrong?”

the nurse leaned back into his couch, “well i called to ask if you've seen y/n…”

“i see...well we haven’t heard of him for quite some time now. we thought it was because of work you know? but you two are close aren’t you, i assumed you would know about his whereabouts”

heeseung sighs softly, “well we were close before we broke up...i called because he hasn’t appeared at work for almost two weeks now. everyone knows y/n is a workaholic so it’s rare for him to miss days. and i wanted to ask if i can go to the police and file a report.”

“have you checked his apartment? you do know where he lives right?”

“i do...”

“well if he isn’t there then yes, go to the police station. please let us know if you find anything!”

“of course, thank you.” heeseung smiled painfully to himself, bidding farewell to y/n’s mother before hanging up. soon after he turned off his phone and sighed, he really hopes y/n is at his apartment and only took a vacation.

y/n couldn’t help but bust out laughing when the three of them walked inside the kitchen. wooyoung did indeed have a black eye and so did yeosang.

"darn it." jongho huffed as y/n ended up winning the bet.

seonghwa stood there confused, spatula in hand as he's setting out their plates for dinner. "and what's this about?"

san grinned, "we made a bet to see if yeosang and wooyoung gave each other a black eye or not. and luckily y/n ended up winning."

"would that be called a doctors intuition?" yeosang rose a brow while glaring at the plates seonghwa handed him.

"good question." y/n chuckled while walking up to the second oldest. "need help?"

"oh, yeah, thanks." seonghwa smiled while gesturing to the drinks. "set them on the table, everyone will serve their own drinks."

"got it. oh, and after dinner, i'll need you two to come with me so we can take care of those shiners."

“yeah yeah...”

#kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fics #ateez fics #ateez x reader #ateez x male reader #top male reader #sub idol #bottom idol #choi san x male reader #choi san #male atiny #kpop scenarios #t.k chapter #tinted kisses

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Text

DARK DECEPTION CHAPTER 11

READ CHAPTER 10 HERE

Author's note: I finally updated this lol. This is definitely building up to the climax that I hope to have in the next few chapters, but we'll see.

Warnings: mentions of rape, non-con, mentions of torture, angst

Pairing(s): Diavolo x Reader, Lucifer, Leviathan

After his talk with Lucifer, Levi attempted to text you under the disguise of another game day, but you had yet to answer. Different scenarios ran through his head, all of which didn’t end well, but he hoped you could hold on just a little longer. Diavolo hadn’t seemed right with him for some time now and even before the wedding, where he reluctantly agreed to be on your side, he knew that something was up, but he could never place his finger on just what that was. Now he knew for sure and honestly he’s patting his own back for going to Lucifer with that. “Alright.. Hacking into the castle…” Nervousness rushed through him but Lucifer swore that spell protected him from being detected by Barbatos and that’s the only thing he’s counting on right now. He needs to get this done as soon as possible because the last thing he wants is for something to actually happen to you.

Meanwhile, Lucifer took it upon himself to come up with a plan of his own. He hadn’t talked to you since that wedding, and he swore he would stay out of it, but if you truly are in danger like Leviathan said, he may be the only one who can help you, and no matter what you are to him, your safety is of utmost importance. He made a promise back then. A promise to protect you, and he would never go back on that promise. It pained him to see you in the arms of someone else when you should be in his arms, safe and sound… Mentally, he was going insane as scenarios ran through his head of everything you had endured this far, and would endure for the foreseeable future unless he manages to get you out of there. He was determined to get you out of there, too, but going against Diavolo, betraying the one person he thought would never betray him after swearing his loyalty to the guy… it will prove more difficult than anyone could think. For now, the spell protected them from being seen by Barbatos, at least in the future, but Barbatos wasn’t dumb and he would figure it out sooner or later… he’d sense something was wrong.

Lucifer walked circles around his room, in deep thought. The most obvious action he should take is bust in head first, as ridiculous as that sounds. If they take too long coming up with a perfect plan, Barbatos and Diavolo have more time to perform the perfect defense… no… Lucifer needs it to be completely spontaneous, in a way that no one sees coming, and he needs to do it sooner than later, before the spell wears off… Possible complications start running through his head and he even has to take into account that the citizens may be against him. They serve their King, of course, and even if he could take most of them out easily, it would take energy out of him, energy he needs to rescue you. Leviathan would obviously be at his side, as would the rest of his brothers, but how much could they take before they, too, would fall victim to exhaustion? Losing one of them would be like losing you, and he can’t have that. His pride and irrational side tells him to do it by himself, to keep everyone else out of it, but he also knows he wouldn’t stand a chance at doing it alone. He needed his brothers, just like he needed them back then… except this time, he’s determined to have no loss, no casualty… but a definite victory.

“Lucifer!” His name being called pulled him out of his thoughts, Leviathan standing in front of him, in his room, once more. The demon’s eyes were wild, something unreadable storming within them and he wondered what had happened. Had Leviathan already got caught? No… they can’t be that fast. “What is it?” The heavy breathing, the wild eyes, the shaking hands… none of it were good indicators to Lucifer. Had they already lost before the battle even began? “I.. I did it… He was hiding cameras, but not just in the gaming room… they’re all over the castle…” That’s why Leviathan was freaking out? Lucifer would’ve guessed as much, considering that Diavolo was always seemingly everywhere at just the right times, “Is this what you’re so upset about? I do--” “No! It’s not that there’s so many… it’s… it’s what I saw, Lucifer…” Levi swallowed thickly, his wild eyes turning into ones of sadness as he recalls the past few minutes, “I was… I was going through them, and I landed on the one in the dungeons, by the maze, you know where Henry 1.0 now is… There was a door… and .. it looked like Cerberus was in it…” Lucifer raised an eyebrow, “Cerberus? Nonsense Leviathan, he’s here, protecting the grimoire…” but Leviathan shook his head, “No. I’m sure it was him… You can’t hear anything but I saw.. I saw (Y/N)... and she looked terrified.. I’m pretty sure she was screaming… I think.. I think Lord Diavolo is using him against her, to torture her…”

Fear ran through him, although he hated showing it. Cerberus was a beast, even he knew that, and if Cerberus was being used against you, he also knew that you had little to no way of surviving, or at least escaping. He pushed past his brother, speed walking down the halls to Leviathan’s room where the cameras were still pulled up. Levi, of course, followed him, scared for you as well, “wait! Lucifer! I don’t… you don’t want to see this…” but it was too late. Lucifer already sat at his brother's desk, watching as the horror unfolded in front of his eyes. Nothing could be heard, much like Leviathan had said, but he didn’t need to in order to understand what was going on. In a way, he was actually glad that he didn’t hear anything because there you were, in Diavolo’s chambers, kicking and fighting against him as he threw you onto his bed. It was clear that there were bruises, scratches, and probably even bite marks on your precious skin, and Lucifer knew that Cerberus was actually there, being used against you, and not where he was supposed to be.

“Lucifer… I don’t…” but the eldest held up his hand to shush Levi. His eyes were trained on the screen, watching as Diavolo tore through your clothes, his mouth opening in words that he knew were let out in shouts, all while you cried helpless beneath him. The demon practically winced when he saw their King have his way with you, spreading your legs harshly as you squirmed and tried to get away from him, but to no avail. Lucifer bit the inside of his cheeks, chewing on them as his heart ached, for you. Someone he put his loyalty into, someone who called him his best friend, was doing this to you, against your will, in a way that no one should ever be handled. Heavy thrusts moved you against the bed, which was looking like it banged against the wall from the sheer force, and Lucifer felt sorrow when you turned your head away to try to escape the picture of it all, but Diavolo wouldn’t have it. He gripped your face by the chin, talking to you again. Part of Lucifer wanted to know what he was saying, but another part of him couldn’t bear to hear the unfavorable words that left the Demon Lord’s mouth. You cried, he knew you did, shutting your eyes tightly in hopes that this nightmare would be over soon. He didn’t know what it was, but Lucifer couldn’t look away, even after his heart shattered into a million pieces and rage filled its place instead. He tried staying calm, to not let too many emotions show on his end, but it was hard when he watched you, the one person he truly loved, be used like a toy.

He sat there for what felt like ages, watching Diavolo play with you, until his hips stilled and he presumably had finished. Once again, he watched as the King’s lips moved with words, letting go of your face but not before a hard slap was delivered to your cheek. Lucifer could practically hear the echo of the action. Leviathan took it upon himself to turn it off, to get that off of the screen, knowing Lucifer wouldn’t have. “Lucifer…” he tried again to reach out to his brother, placing a hand on the eldest’s shoulder in a form of comfort, but Lucifer brushed it off, standing up quickly and walking out, before anyone realized how close he was to breaking, “get everyone together, Leviathan. We’re going in.” he didn’t know what prompted him to say that, but he needed to get you out of there, as fast as possible. Even as tears started to cloud his vision, even when he started to feel so useless… he swallowed it all, putting his head back up with pride as the plan came together in his head. No one would do that to you ever again, and he will get you out of there, no matter the cost.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me lord diavolo #lord diavolo smut #shall we date diavolo #om! diavolo #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #dark deception #obey me lucifer #leviathan obey me #tw rape #non con #tw angst

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amusedyan · 4 years

Text

Labyrinthian

This fucking thing has been the source of my fucking writer’s block for months and I FINALLY GOT THIS THING FINISHED!

Featuring cryptic Trickster Eldritch Labyrinth god Dazai

The labyrinth was unending, unyielding. The walls themselves so tall that you had to crane your neck to see the sky- it had gone dark, and the stars? Forget it. You would be so lucky to see stars in this hell.

When the king had called for a sacrifice, you had been one of the many offered. Dressed in white for the offering, and forcefully purified, you had been let loose in the labyrinth, fodder for the creature inside. Because of your sacrifice, the headman had said, you thought venomously, the kingdom would be safe, the monster sated for one more year.

And what of the next year?

“Short sighted bastards,” you spat on the ground and marched forward. Marched to your death, maybe. Probably even. But you had to keep moving. If you stopped, if you gave in, then fear and hopelessness would overcome you.

You didn’t want to die. But if you had a choice, then you’d rather die on your feet than in a crouch, crying in despair.

Already it was at your heels, following you. As you alternately hurried, walked, marched or sprinted through the stone paths you would find horrible mementos of the past sacrifices- bones, dried and flaking blood, severed limbs or shredded clothes, similar to what you wore. You prayed over each other them- not to the gods who had trapped that Thing here, but to the souls of your predecessors. May they be at rest and free from pain, fear, and the machinations of the living and immortal.

The Thing in the labyrinth was a god. Was, but now he was an immortal thing with the human hunger, cast down by the pantheon and sealed here.

Your stomach growled uncomfortably.

There wasn’t much to be done about that, though- you had been given limited rations, and you wanted to make them last, unappetizing as they were.

So on you went- with no direction and no way to mark where you’d been.

But time dragged on, and eventually your anger and your fear fled, and you had nothing but hunger, thirst, and exhaustion waiting for you and slowing you down.

It wasn’t fair, you thought. The despair had caught up with you, and you could feel your eyes burning. “I’ll save my tears,” you muttered, rounding a corner. By now you were leaning on a wall. If the monster found you, you would die for sure.

But instead of more endless stone walls, you saw trees, and water. For an absurd moment, you thought that you had found the way out. But as you stepped into the clearing, you saw more walls around it, and you understood.

This was a garden.

But it was a garden, and that meant water and hopefully food, so that was something.

You drank from the water until you threw up, and then drank some more. The water was cold and clear, and you had never tasted something so sweet in your life. You dipped your feet in to calm the ache next and closed your eyes. You couldn’t relax, but you could rest here.

It felt safe, like the air itself had taken a moment to let itself go.

“How could something so beautiful exist in such an ugly place?” You wondered out loud.

When your feet grew numb, you began to look for food. And, luckily, you didn’t have to look long.

“Fruit trees,” you breathed in wonder. All of them were fruit trees.

You’d never been much of a tree climber as a kid, but hunger bred desperation, and like a monkey you were scrabbling up and up to the first stable branch.

You ate 3 apples and dropped some more to the ground before climbing down, more carefully than you had climbed up. Your belly full and your thirst quenched, you finally succumbed and fell asleep beneath the tree. And no matter your intentions, it was a deep sleep, dreamless and dark.

-x-

You woke, completely relaxed under a late morning sky.

The sky?

And more than that- there was a smell

The smell of apples cooking.

When you raised your head you saw a young man wearing the white garb of the sacrificed. He was bandaged, but he still smiled when he caught your eye.

“You’re up.” He waved, and you found yourself wandering over. “Sorry, I just saw the garden and I was so hungry. Did I scare you?”

“No.” And it was the truth. “I didn’t see you with the other sacrifices.”

“There are several gates.” He shrugged. “One in each of the cardinal directions. I came in the West.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Your expression hardened. “If all the food comes in the same gate then the meal is all at once and the sacrifices would have to be more than once a year.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Here, I roasted a few for you, too.” He handed you a spit on which two apples were speared.

“Thank you,” you took them gratefully, and introduced yourself.

His name was Dazai, he told you. He was from a port kingdom. Over breakfast he described the sea and the ships, and you listened eagerly. Before the sacrifice, you’d never been anywhere but your home village and the market.

“Have you seen anyone besides me?” You asked, despite yourself. It felt like a cloud had passed over you both, and you shivered involuntarily.

Dazai looked down at the fire and sighed. “No one alive,” he said very quietly.

“I…was afraid of that.” You admitted, and you both went quiet. You ate your apples while they were still warm.

After awhile, Dazai cleared his throat and you looked t him again.

“Would you like to run with me?” He invited.

The idea…wasn’t a horrible one, in all honesty. In the very least, you thought darkly, you could trip him up and use him as a distraction if you were found by the monster. But more than that, you wanted company.

The two of you filled your respective waterskins and packed away as many apples as you could carry. Dazai took some of the charcoal from the dead fire. “We can mark our way with it.” He explained. It was a risk, but a calculated one; if you knew which direction you had come from then the monster surely could as well.

You and Dazai began to walk and you felt much more relaxed with someone at your side. It was as like the labyrinth itself was cleansed. It wasn’t as scary with someone else, you decided.

For lack of anything better to do, you compared notes on the creature in the labyrinth.

“My home says that the gods cast him down for his cruelty,” you recounted. “They sealed him here- once you’re in, you can’t escape.” You swallowed nervously. “But that part can’t be true. There has to be another way out.”

“He wasn’t a god,” Dazai scoffed as you backtracked, marking on the wall that the passage was a dead end. “He came Before the pantheon.”

You frowned. “There was a before?”

“Honestly,” he sounded s disappointed. “What are they teaching people nowadays. Yes, there was a before. The Old Ones were first, and when the New rose, there was war. The Labyrinth God weighed his options and helped overthrow his people.”

“Why would he betray the Old Ones?” You wondered. “Wouldn’t he have loyalty for his people?”

“It wasn’t about loyalty.” Like he was explaining things to a child, Dazai broke it down. “You have to look at the bigger picture- there was a war and it had to end. The Labyrinth God looked at the outcomes and made a sacrifice for the lesser damage.”

“And it made him cruel?”

“No. It made him a liability. They cast him out, stripped him of his divinity and created the labyrinth. And here we are.” He squinted up at the sky. “Well, at least we don’t have to deal with straight sunlight,” he grumbled.

But something made you suspicious. “How do you know so much about it? I thought you came from a port town?”

“I do. But my family were scholars.” He shrugged.

“Oh. And they just…surrendered you?”

“Well, it was only me. And it wasn’t like they liked me much to begin with.” He chuckled, and you felt a momentary stab of both guilt and pity. You had people on the outside to get back to, and Dazai just…didn’t want to die here.

Well, maybe you could bring him back with you.

But you didn’t voice that idea, you weren’t stupid. A. you didn’t want to offend him, and B. You didn’t really trust him, not just yet.

So on and on you walked. More than once you hit dead ends and had to go back, or somehow circled back around. Several times you swore you heard the growling of the god in question. Those times bot you and Dazai froze and listened, pressed against the wall, trying to judge just how far away it was. The final time, the ground shook as it passed by the next passage over, and you could feel a scream welling up in your throat.

But it passed, and you both waited and waited for ages before going on, slowly and silently, all talk gone.

That night there was another garden, this one more lovely than the night before, with animals and birds. The lake was a little river, and again you both refreshed and rested yourselves. There were pear trees this time, and pomegranates. All the fruit was delicious raw, but there was something satisfying about cooking them and eating them warm.

“Gosh the stars are pretty,” you observed, leaning back. Across the fire, Dazai looked up and softened at the sight of them.

“Yeah. They are.”

You both slept, huddled together for warmth as the fire died.

-x-

And on the third day, the environment of the labyrinth changed. The stones themselves were different, and the walls…

“It’s almost welcoming,” you breathed in wonder.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dazai reached out and touched the stone experimentally.

Remarlably, you found yourself led to some stairs. Stairs, of all things. Up and up you both walked. Why hadn’t you seen any sign of this in the labyrinth?

At the top of the staircase, you saw a palace.

You could smell food now, and your stomach growled for food that wasn’t just roasted fruit.

“Hungry?” Dazai elbowed you playfully.

“A little,” you nudged him back.

There was something strange about all this, you realized, but you were curious. “Let’s investigate.” Dazai declared, leading the way.

The palace was lit and clean, incense scented the air. It was lived in, clearly.

“Is this the monster’s home?” It was so…civilized. What sort of prison was this? One filled with art and delicate vases and décor.

You both followed the smell of food through gardens and rooms and halls, finally finding tables already laid.

“It’s like a celebration.”

Why was your heart pounding?

There was a terrible growl and you froze.

It was here.

“Relax,” Dazai laughed, picking up a goblet. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Are you insane?” You snapped, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s here- it’ll eat us Dazai, we have to move!” This was a horrible idea, what had possessed you to come inside like this?

The palace shook under Its footsteps, you were running out of time.

He’d gone insane, clearly, but could you really just abandon him to his fate here?

Yes.

Your survival…

You ran in the other direction, and Dazai’s wild laughter was as loud as the growling, snarling, howling beast that you were trying to flee.

Deeper into It’s lair you ran, your lungs on fire. You didn’t think about Dazai, because it didn’t matter. One foot in front of the other, you ignored everything. There had to be a way out of the palace, a way out.

You burst into a garden in full bloom, but no sooner had you registered that it was grass beneath your feet then you lost your footing, and you fell. And it was hard. Dazed, you lay there, shaking. It was behind you- you could smell the crackle of ozone, hear the footsteps.

But then what you heard was clapping.

“You did so well,” Dazai singsonged, patting you on the shoulder. “I had so much fun. But the game is over, darling, and I think that I want to claim my prize.”

You looked up at him and tried to process just what the hell he was talking about over the racing of your heart.

“Your…prize?”

His kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, eager and impatient.

“You ran and I gave chase. It’s the first time a sacrifice has become more than a meal.”

“What…what am I then?”

“Mine. And there will never be another.”

#yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere dazai #yandere dazai osamu

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starlightsearches · 3 years

Text

His Pilot Ch. 5

Masterlist

Armitage Hux x Pilot! Reader (f)

Warnings: Language, angst.

AN: This one is a little short but I felt like this was a nice enough place to cut off. Chapter 6 will be out fairly soon since it's already half written!

I’ve been spying for the Resistance.

The air in your lungs solidifies, turning to ash as you freeze against him, like an animal in a trap. General Hux, a Resistance spy.

All those hours by his side, and you never knew—couldn’t read it in his palms when his hand rested in yours, or feel traces of it on his shoulders during any embrace. You couldn’t taste it, the lies on his lips when he held you in trembling hands and poured light into your empty and waiting soul.

How could he not tell you? How could you not know?

You’ve been blind. The answer comes as soon as you allow yourself to ask the question: Day. The general had always been so private about the purpose of these trips, and you’d ignored all the signs, too caught up in your own head to see what was right in front of you.

The general’s chest swells where you lay your cheek against it; he can’t stay still, his hands traveling over your arms with a feverish energy, his voice a low, urgent whisper.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ve planned for this. We’ll return to the ship. You’ll tell the Supreme Leader that you have certain suspicions, and I’ll— and he’ll spare you, if you’re the one who tells him. You’ll be safe. It’s alright. You’ll be safe.”

Safe. The word disgusts you, and you force your way out of his arms, recoiling from him like you’ve been burned. Safe. Safe. Safe.

You’ve never wanted anything less.

And at such a steep cost. He’s offering you a half-life, one where he dies but takes more of you than you can live without. You won’t bear it. You need more time.

Forcing yourself out of his grasp, you search the cabin with frantic eyes and an unruly heartbeat—for what, you don’t know.

Until you see the blaster.

Someone must have forgotten about it. It might not even work, left behind after a mission as a defective piece of equipment, a bit of clutter for someone else to clean up, but you can’t worry about that right now.

The blaster rests heavily in your hand, the grip marks indented against your palm, the sharp edge of the trigger digging into the meat of your finger. You raise the weapon to eye level, focusing the sight on the center of the ship’s controls, willing your hand to stay still. You’ve never been that good of a shot, but there’s no way you can miss at such close range.

The control panel bursts into a shower of sparks, the blaster bolt peeling through the layers of wire and durasteel and machinery with ease, ripping apart what was whole and leaving a smoking cavern through the middle of it. The weapon falls as you move to shield your eyes, stepping back when the heat of it meets your skin. And then a different heat—Armitage’s hands at your waist, his arms encircling you, pulling you back from the ruined controls with enough desperation to pull you back in time.

You turn, read the dread in his eyes as he examines the panel’s mangled remains. He’s horrified.

“What did you just do?”

“If you contact the Order—if you give yourself up—I’ll tell them I knew. I’ll tell them I was part of it.” Your voice shakes as you cup his cheeks in your cold, aching hands. He looks at you, disbelief etched into every line and curve of his face, his long fingers encasing your wrists as he steps back, keeping you at a distance.

“Please—” he begs, softer now, “please don’t do this.”

His eyes shut tight to the world, breathing shallow and anguished, but he can’t stop it. Tears trail down his cheeks, gentle at first, then in a downpour. He thinks he’s saying goodbye.

You’re not ready for that.

What you have with him is new, and fragile, and . . . strange. It might not last. But you don’t want to go on without knowing. You want to see what grows from the seeds you have planted.

“We could run away.”

A sharp breath cuts through his chest as he drops his hands from your arms, folding in on himself, like the pain is eating him from the inside out; you take it as an opportunity to move closer. He has to feel it—your sincerity, the loyalty you have for him. It could be love. There’s no way to know just yet, but someday it could be love.

“We could. Together. The Resistance might help us, or we’ll . . . we’ll do something. Find somewhere to hide.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

There’s lifetimes of abandonment behind those words, a skepticism that runs through his core. His fingers shake against yours, hands stiff with cold, and you hold them tighter.

“Maybe not—” you press the tips of his fingers against your lips, taste the leftover rain, let your lips trail down until you can kiss the center of his palm, urging him closer with each soft touch, “ but I know what I can’t live with, and what I can’t live without.”

His shoulders fall, lips parted in a soft sigh, the hesitant expression he wears overtaken by the slightest ray of hope.“What will we do?”

“We’ll go back to Day.”

You’re not sure what he’ll say when Day yanks open the heavy door of his estate as you and the general shiver, dripping wet on his front step. The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, his eyes hard, the furrowed lines in his forehead much too deep for someone who smiles so freely.

He looks to the general, pursing his lips. “So, I assume you told her?”

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that.

Hux sighs, watching Day with a pained expression, but the man makes no move to let you in, cocking his brow and crossing his arms over his chest. The two men stay locked like this, staring each other down, until Day gestures, holding his hand out as if to say go on.

The general folds, sending an apologetic look your way before resting his arm gently over your shoulder, pulling you in against his side, and your cheeks flush with heat at the surprising intimacy of the gesture.

“Please, Day, we need your help.”

Day pauses, dark brows curving thoughtfully over bright amber eyes; then he grins, ferociously, yanking both of you in through the door.

“Thank the Maker, general. I was beginning to think you’d never come around.”

He steps aside to reveal Alida, already waiting for you with a fresh pile of towels and blankets. Before you can manage to voice your surprise, she’s forced a warm cup of caff into your numb hands, fussing about with a towel and piling blanket after blanket over your shoulders until the shivering stops.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Day approaches you quietly as soon as Alida moves on, holding your face in both his hands like he’s inspecting you for damage. You nod, the stiffness in your cheeks melting away under the warmth of his touch.

“I’m alright,” you assure him, and feel that same assurance lift a heavy weight off your chest.

“I don’t say this lightly, darling,” he whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “but you’re too good for him. You do know that, don’t you?”

Your eyes find Armitage in the dim light of the foyer. He’s holding his own cup of caff as Alida attempts to throw blankets over his shoulders, her arms too small to place them nicely, but he pays her little attention, scowling at the lack of distance between you and Day. Even in the darkness you can see his skin flush when you catch him staring, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

A smile that graces your lips, “I think you’re wrong.”

Hux is at your side again, trying to be subtle when he angles his body between yours and Day, “We need a plan, Day. We can’t stay on Arkanis for too long, the Order will come looking for us.”

“I’ll contact the Resistance and let them know you’re in need of protection, but it may take a few days for them to get back to me,” Day says, trying his best to conceal his grin, “but for now, you need to rest. Do you think you’re capable of that, general?”

“It’s just Hux, now, Day,” Armitage says, folding his hand into yours, looking down at you with too much affection, given the situation, “and I think I’ll manage.”

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Wedding Dress

Kinktober day 13: Cunnilingus

Pairing: Domestic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is hiding under your wedding dress— he can have some fun while he's in there, right?

A/N: I'll admit that my mood isn't high today, and writing this one was kind hard at some point. So, @theicariantouch helped me a lot more than they usually already do and I'm so glad. Thank you, hon! This is co-written.

Warnings: oral sex (woman receiving), cute, kind public sex

“You look beautiful!”

You rolled your eyes at your mom's obvious lie, although the look on her face told you that she truly believed that adjective could be used properly there. Perhaps that was the 'perfect child' syndrome again when mothers saw their newborns — the unfinished, strange little creatures as they were — as the cutest beings in the galaxy. No one would have the heart to tell them that their baby looked like an old knee, and neither did you about the clearly ugly clothing.

The inordinately puffy dress was more beige than white with a massive bow laced to crown at the small of your back, no cleavage, and sequins embossed with an opalescent gleam trailing along the waistline. It wasn’t in an elegant way like Cinderella’s, but in the most démodé, antiquated manner possible. You'd never wear it for any party, much less your marriage — plus, you just tried it on because you imagined it'd be funny to twirl and watch the skirt flutter, maybe feel like a princess for a hot minute.

There was something those movies didn’t tell you about the dresses like this, and that was the fact they were heavy. You only wore it for a couple of minutes, and you already wanted to cut it open with scissors and walk around naked for the rest of the day.

After all, this wasn't really your color.

You replaced your wrinkled nose with a playful grimace followed by a shrug. “I guess I'll try another. The siren cut one is really pretty.”

“I'll ask for them to get it.” She nodded, getting up to summon Cecilia — the unfortunate worker that had fetched at least fifteen different dresses for you by now — and the third glass of champagne for herself. She quickly got lost in the lavender-scented castle of dresses, high-classed scenery marked with the quiet lull of Celine Dion playing in the background. You scoffed, turning around to meet the mirror again just to make sure this one was a definite no until your eyes found something way more interesting.

Dean Winchester — the man you made a home out of — was looking at you through the large glass window. It was so easy to spot the smile on his face while he observed you with a lionized intensity as if you were his favorite movie that he couldn’t get enough of watching. Dean's vivid green eyes were almost glossy with adoration and loyalty — because that was the only way this magnetic man knew how to love. And he loved you; oh, how much he loved you and the life he never thought he'd get with you. That marvelously dazed look on his face almost fooled you into thinking that this was the right dress.

Sweetened seconds of longing looks soon shifted, changing into a frown of yours as Dean stepped into the fancy boutique. You moved your body to glance at him, the skirted ends of the dress dancing around your legs as the subtle woosh of fabric echoed. Fortunately, it seemed to break Dean's focus as well, his eyes now sharpened on your confused expression.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was out for lunch with Sammy, so I decided to drop in.” He smirked, approaching you. You placed your hands on your hips and glanced at him. Your bridal instinct — which, funnily enough, sounded a lot like your mom — screamed for you to cover yourself up, but what was the point? He had already seen it, and that definitely wouldn't be your dress.

Nonetheless, you arched your eyebrows and wore an accusative tone as you spoke, “You aren't supposed to see me in a wedding dress before our marriage, Winchester.”

“I don't believe that.” Dean rolled his eyes and placed his hands on your hips.

God, that puffy beige abomination had enough cushiony material to suppress the sensation of Dean's hands on you. Yep, big no.

Childish joy was spreading across your face with a beam as you put your arms around his neck. “You, of all people, a skeptic?”

The Winchester pulled you closer donning that lopsided grin that often made you want to drag him to the nearest bed, but, before he could even speak, you heard your mother's voice nattering to Cecilia about shades of white steadily growing louder.

She would kill you and Dean both if she saw him there.

“Hide, now!” You pushed his chest only to gain a confused look from the retired hunter. “My mom's coming. You know how crazy she is about matrimonial traditions and whatever! You need to go, now!”

Dean gulped as though just now noticing your mom's echoing voice and high heels clicking against the floor. How was that more threatening than the howls of the werewolves he used to kill?

“Dean!” you pleaded when he didn't move.

He glanced at you with desperate eyes, suddenly paralyzed with fear. “What? I can't go through the front door, she'll see me!”

“Are you afraid of my mom?” you say incredulously, a frown abruptly sharpening your painted features.

Dean glared at you in exhaustion. “You aren't?”

“That's not the point!” You groaned. Dean seemed to finally catch up to the idea, abruptly making a beeline to the dressing room encircled with thick velvet curtains the color of spilled wine. “What are you doing?”

He gestured wildly, clearly with only one goal in mind: hide. “Getting in the dressing room!”

“All the others besides mine are occupied!” you hiss sharply, because you’ve been trying on gowns of all shapes and sizes long enough now to know the drill. You pointed to the ostentatiously large gown you were wearing. “They’ll see you once I go back in to change out of this.”

Dean looked you up and down, a completely inappropriate smirk growing on his lips when you were about thirty seconds away from getting caught violating the imagined laws of matrimony. “I wouldn't mind seeing you change this. I can even help you to-”

“Dean!” you hissed as an idea struck. What else could you do? You weren't signing up for a two-hour-long lecture about the importance of tradition for your own wedding, but there was no other place you could hide Dean in. Your mom's voice was progressively getting closer and closer. What you did next was a desperate yet necessary measure. “Get under me.”

Dean's brows knitted together incredulously. “What?”

“You heard me! This thing is so big it’ll hide you,” you exclaimed in a lower tone than your nervousness desired, denoting the excessively billowy dress. You lifted the smoothly flared skirt just enough not to show your panties and barked: “Get inside, now!”

Dean shot you a wink before dutifully doing what he was told. “That's what she said.”

You just rolled your eyes at his muffled retort, beginning to question why you had agreed to marry him in the first place.

It didn't take longer than ten seconds for your mom and Cecilia to pop up. The latter held a bundle of dresses in diversified shades of white before settling them on the Victorian-esque marble top table, sighing in relief at the final release of her admittedly heavy burden.

“Honey, we brought you five siren cuts!” Your mom, though, had an excited smile on, already grabbing one of the many dresses and pushing it into your arms. “Try this!”

Cecilia gave you a friendly smile, gesturing to the long, silken dress you’d just been given. “This one is from Mattel's new collection.”

Dean shifted under your gown, his spiked hair tickling your leg. He was a big man, so you knew this was difficult for him too. You gulped, heart pounding like a drum inside of your chest while you tried to come up with a request to keep them away long enough for you to get rid of Dean.

Glancing around the classy room, your eyes caught a myriad of vibrantly colorful dresses swaying on a rack next to the wall of mirrors. This was it. This was your out.

Your gaze landed back on the two women in front of you. The icy current from the air conditioner combing through your hair didn't help the blood running cold in your veins. You swallowed the lump in your throat and wore your best poker face.

Was this how Dean felt when he had to lie for a job when he was a hunter? You didn't know, but what you knew for sure was how his greedy fingers felt pulling your panties to the side when he was hiding under your improbably enormous wedding dress in the middle of an ostentatious clothing store.

“They all look so pretty,” you said, suppressing your scoff as Dean pecked your thigh, “but I was thinking about red ones?”

Cecilia opened her mouth to respond, but your mom was quicker. With a shocked expression and her hand resting dramatically on chest, she said: “Red?! That's not a color for a ceremony in the church.”

You were ready to offer her a swift retort as this was your wedding, not hers, but Dean's kisses kept rising higher and higher. Son of a bitch! You’d kill him if it didn't feel so good. You were already wet, momentarily losing track of space and time. Everything with him felt like the comfortable warmth of afterglow.

That is, until your mother brought you back down to earth with an admonishingly chide tone: “Y/N!”

“I just want to see how it fits me. Please.” You knew he was purposely ignoring your pussy, kissing near it but never getting to the point. You placed you hand on the part of the dress that his head would be, pushing him a little closer. The next word wasn’t meant for your entourage, but it made sense anyway: “Please.”

Cecilia curved the corner of her lips in sympathy. “Of course. We just got a new package a few days ago. I think they will fit you perfectly!”

Dean's lips kissed your heat. You bit your bottom lip to control a moan, summoning a nod interlaced with a tight smile for Cecilia. You doubted you were able to come up with anything else more coherent than Dean and more right now.

“I'll make sure it isn't too red!” You mom huffed, following the worker as she turned away to grab what you asked for.

Dean's hand held onto your leg as he started to lick in slowly, savoring your taste. He had to be controlling himself carefully, staving down his own desire to go deep and eat you out hungrily like he usually did.

You watched the pair leave, impatience fraying your scattered thoughts. You clenched down tightly, trying to force his tongue out of you as you waited for your mother to leave. Unfortunately, she stopped in the middle of the aisle to abandon Cecilia in favor of another worker swathed in a collection of bridal veils. Too risky. Maybe pushing him to the door would be better long term than having Dean to go down on you right now, but it certainly wouldn’t be as pleasurable.

You decided to consider this one of the little adventures pre-marriage: the eldest Winchester was now licking his way inside you, fingertips sinking into your skin as he pressed his mouth and tongue against your wetness.

God, you loved that man.

“Thought you'd like to see some options without your mom.” Cecilia's voice out of nowhere almost made you jump, but you were able to restrain yourself. The fear of getting caught suddenly putting your body in place again, but Dean wasn't having any of it. As soon as you forced a giggle out to answer her, his mouth was on your pussy again.

“Yeah, she can be a little controlling.” You coughed. At least you could use the subject to excuse your discomfort.

You could practically feel Dean's smile on your pussy as he sucked your clit, wriggling his finger inside you. You pressed the hand on the other side of the thick curtain of fabric of his head down harder — for anyone else, it would look like this gesture coupled with your heated expression meant that the dress was uncomfortably hot.

At least, Cecilia thought so. With an understanding, saleswoman grin, she asked: “Do you want help to take the dress off?”

“No!” you almost screamed. It felt good to actually expel the noises you were withholding, even if it was on accident. “I mean, no. No, thank you. I'll take it off myself and try this red one — Can you keep my mom distracted for a couple minutes? She wouldn't like to see me in this.”

Coming up with a lie while your fiancé was sucking your clit and fingering you, checked.

“All for the bride.” Cecilia winked at you and left.

It took a couple seconds for you to regain some self control. With every ounce of willpower you had, you forced yourself to lift your dress and push Dean away from your trembling legs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, glancing at his face. That idiot wore a cocky smile on and had the audacity to lick his lips.

“What? You can't tell me to get between your legs and not eat you out. I'm a good soon-to-be husband.” He winked.

“You're unbelievable.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Hurry up and make me come, and don't get the dress dirty. Cecilia might be able to keep my mom away for like, five minutes. Do a good job.”

Dean chuckled, not able to discern if he was confusing reality and porn again or if this was actually happening, but your taste on his lips was evidence enough to make it uncontestible. He gave you a loving gaze despite everything before coming back to finish what he started. This was it, that was his girl.

“I can't wait to marry you.”

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lastxviolet · 3 years

Text

The Assistant - CH. 1

Description: Summary - Her sixth year at Hogwarts was supposed to be relatively peaceful but after an incident on the Hogwarts express, Violet Wilkes finds herself the newest target of the Weasley twins. This, combined with a dark family secret, and the Triwizard tournament, makes her first few months back more exciting and stressful than every year before.

pairing: George Weasley x Original Female Character

warnings: pg-13. slow burn, eventual smut hehe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218804/chapters/69148695

The Dark Mark.

Cloaked figures running, burning, torturing.

The threat of a second war.

Screaming.

A sharp train whistle brought Violet Wilkes back into her body on Platform 9 ¾, its sound tearing her mind away from the horrifying morning news in the Daily Prophet just last week. The moving pictures on the papers front page had barely left her thoughts, even now, as she was steps away from saying goodbye to her family for nearly a year, the dark mark burned behind her eyelids with every blink.

She walked ahead of her parents and little sister, weaving through the crowd of fawning mothers and sniffling siblings, towards the very last car in the line, dreading the long journey ahead more and more with every step.

For the past five years, she had seriously considered not returning to Hogwarts, solely because of the egregious train ride from London, and this year was no different, except for the pit in her stomach from the thought of noise, people, and confined space was joined by the fear of her family's hypothetical imminent doom at the hands of Death Eaters. Despite the fact that no one else shared her fears.

She'd told them all week that the events at the Quidditch World Cup weren't a fluke. No one conjured the most fearsome symbol in their world nearly thirteen years after its disappearance, by accident. It meant something.

A terrible something.

And now, she was leaving them. Defenseless.

Her father hadn't picked up his wand in nearly a decade, and her mother had no magical abilities to speak of. Her sister, Olivia, would surely be a powerful witch in the coming years but for now, she remained a timid ten-year-old. They hardly stood a chance without her. That was if the events last week were as dire and fearsome as she believed them to be.

Of all people, she thought her father would understand her worry but he insisted that it wasn't going to be like 'last time.' Even then, she'd made him swear that he would brush up on his spells and hexes just in case you-know-who had returned and picked up where he'd left off, targeting blood traitors and their families.

The train whistle cut through the commotion again and they sped up to make the 11:00 departure. She glanced down at her watch; 10:58.

If they hurried, she'd make it. But if they didn't, the train would mosey on without her. Not that she'd mind.

She looked around at her fellow hustling peers pouring into the train and exhaled sharply. What if she just stopped? Dropped to her knees and refused to move. Missed the train and begged her father to let her go to a muggle school as her mother had. Her fingers gripped the iron handrail in the vestibule of the final car, and she hesitated, ready to throw herself back onto the platform but deep down, she knew it was already too late. There was no avoiding the journey ahead.

Her sister launched into her arms, squeezing tight before her mother's arms replaced them around her neck. She kissed her father's cheek last, lingering on his kind, dark blue eyes, staring at their own mirrored pupils in her head. He pressed one more kiss onto her forehead before stepping back to wrap his arms around the other halves of her heart.

A blood-traitor.

How could anyone call him a blood traitor?

Easy, she thought. It was the same way her housemates called her a half-blood. With condescending smirks and dead eyes.

She turned to enter the car so they couldn't see the tear falling down her cheek and rushed to wipe it away before she came back into view through the last window.

Her sister called out a final time when the train began to slowly move away and a wave of dread constricted her lungs. The sound was too similar to the screams she heard in her nightmares nearly every night. Fog from her breath on the window obscured the final visible moments of her family's smiling faces and wildly waving arms as the platform disappeared from view.

11:00. As one torturous moment ended, another, 8-hour-long one, began. The ruckus of running feet, excited hello's, and sporadic spell work was instantaneous and completely impossible to ignore. She closed her eyes and tried to tune it out.

She couldn't conceive why a wizarding school would trust their unsupervised adolescent students to not blow each other up when muggle schools barely trusted their docile coeds to use the bathroom alone. Other people's happiness didn't normally give her such a headache but the lack of professor supervision provided no perimeters on her peer's ability to run amuck.

She felt her stomach flip with the swaying movement. Bile burned her throat, as the seat underneath her moved back and forth, rocking in a nauseating pattern. The noise, in combination with the repetitive piercing whistle and lurching wheels thudding through London, was dizzying.

Distraction. She needed a distraction.

Calloused leather brushed her hip, reminding her that she'd anticipated this very moment. She thanked her past self profusely and dug through the bag until the pebbly fabric of her favorite muggle book scratched her fingertips.

The deep blue hardcover still precariously clung to its title even after years of wear and tear, reading and rereading. She caressed the carved gold words with a shaky, anxious finger.

The Princess Bride

By William Goldman

It was a pity that the Hogwarts library didn't cater to muggle-born students, she thought. Even in Muggle Studies class, assigned readings were books about muggles, written by the magical beings that walked among them. Wizard writers were wonderful but their ability to write compelling fiction was limited when they can do the unthinkable with the mindless flick of a wand.

She flipped it open and paused to admire her mother's swirly signature on the dedication page before turning to the first chapter.

"I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm Boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard."

"I hear you now, and I promise you this: I will never love anyone else. Only Westley. Until I die."

Eventually, the disorienting blur of houses, trees, and cars ceased— replaced by much more appealing, rolling hills and sprawling fields. The speed of the train was barely discernible as the scenery outside the window moved in slow motion, barely changing, monotonous and still, a comfort to her dizzy head.

She glanced towards the glass doors that were protecting her from the chaos throughout the halls and determined that the motion sickness and general discomfort had been suppressed. She took a deep breath and weighed the options for the second half of the trip. Stay, and finish the beloved book that lay open in her lap, or leave, and trade all peace for conversation.

Alone, but also lonely.

She'd probably missed loads of drama on the first half of the ride, and Sadie would surely be furious with her for being absent.

Sadie Baldock had plopped down next to her at the Slytherin table one random morning during her second week at Hogwarts. Happy to have some company, she'd let the energetic girl talk her ear off for the entire meal, not once interrupting or telling her to shut up, even though it would've been warranted. They'd been best friends ever since and she'd been an absolute treasure for the entirety of their past five years.

Despite Sadies strong personality and pension for gossip, she understood and accepted that Violet had no desire to be attached at the hip to anyone and gladly gave her space.

Alone and lonely, was much better than being suffocated, she thought. This had been her preference, even before she arrived at Hogwarts, and was sorted into Slytherin, her supposed 'family' away from home.

She scoffed and shook her head.

Family, yeah right.

Other houses might consider themselves family. Hers, however, felt more like a cage.

Families weren't supposed to be judgmental, at least not to the degree that her peers were. Families didn't shun disgraced peers for impure bloodlines or enforce generational loyalty without question. In recent years, the house had shed any sense of camaraderie left, even between those with pure-blood and ancient ties.

Due to this, tensions ran high and tempers were like time-bombs. It was exhausting to bite her tongue enough to remain cordial with most of the somewhat sane peers in her house and fly under the radar of the rest. She clenched her jaw, remembering Draco Malfoy and crew taunting her half-blood status and muggle mother.

Exhausting, but necessary, for self-preservation and peaceful existence. She occasionally betrayed herself with a viper-quick temper that was always simmering in her chest but most took it for stereotypical Slytherin nastiness, and not a haunting disdain for those who shared her green and silver uniform. This, a knack for potions and a morbidly dark wardrobe were perhaps the only evidence of a correct sorting.

Oh well, she thought. It was a bit late in her career to be considering a house change, besides, the sorting hat was a sod old brute who insisted that he was never wrong.

In actuality though, it wasn't all terrible. At least she had Sadie and the few other perks that came with the snake emblem.

The dungeons provided cool darkness that deprived the senses of any reason for restlessness and anxiety. Although the green uniform occasionally invited disapproving glances, it complimented her dark blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair much better than the blue and white of Ravenclaw, or heaven forbid the bright red Gryffindor insignia. And, she was only a few feet away from the potions classroom, where she'd managed to instate herself as one of the only students their head of house, Professor Severus Snape, did not actively hate. The bond had been painstakingly cultivated over the years the only that way he would allow; speaking when spoken to, correct answers, and perfect potions.

She stared out the window, focusing on the rolling hills, trying to let go of the gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that couldn't help but wonder if the hat had gotten it wrong.

Introspection was one of her biggest flaws. Sadie was constantly telling her to get out of her head and she knew that she was right. But, analysis always felt necessary, even about moments and emotions long gone. Sorting through every feeling, decision, movement; double-checking every second to make sure they were all accounted for, was compulsory.

Even now, six years later, she wondered whether she even truly belonged in Slytherin, and whether or not being sorted into the other houses would've been easier or even different at all. Would it have been better to be sorted into her father's Hufflepuff house?

Maybe, but unfortunately, when considering where to place her, the sorting hat had ignored her father and zeroed in on the countless other Wilkes before him, all in Slytherin, before deciding that she would be forced to pick up the lineage again. Not that any of them would ever know, or care.

She felt a shiver down her spine.

It was for the best that they hadn't any idea of her existence, let alone the continuation of their legacy.

She squeezed her eyes closed and the beautiful scenery outside dissolved into the Dark Mark behind her lids and the memory of photos she'd secretly found amongst her father's old school things. Photos of a boy, a few years older than her father, clad in green standing next to his younger brother in yellow and black.

A legacy, broken. A legacy, reborn.

She felt her heartbeat quicken and tried desperately to conjure the image of her sister, next year, with the sorting hat on her head, yelling any other house's name.

Screams from the next train car over tore her away from her thoughts. She jumped slightly and shook her head, glad for a distraction from the oncoming downward spiral. She'd forgotten where she was for a moment but another chorus of "no's" and laughter bursting through the door at the front of the cabin pulled her back to reality.

Pushing the doors apart slightly, she poked her head into the hall and moved to step out but voices stopped her. Loud, obnoxious, exuberant voices yelled something about "research" to an amused audience.

The Weasley twins.

Maybe the imminent doom she'd been worrying about wouldn't come at the hands of Death Eaters at all, but two idiotic and insufferable redheads instead.

She searched for an escape, eyes moving frantically, but her only option seemed to be a jump from the back door and onto the tracks below. Why hadn't she left to find Sadie when she'd had the chance?

Rolling her eyes as far back into her head as they would go, she sunk back down onto the bench and held her breath, hoping to miraculously turn invisible before the twins could sour her mood further.

"C'mon George, one last try," a voice belonging to Fred Weasley yelled over the last wave of students laughing and telling the twins to get lost.

She groaned, knowing that they were indeed coming for her. She couldn't think of a single time during her years at Hogwarts when she'd enjoyed the terroristic Weasley antics, but this moment was particularly ill-timed. Their talents for pranking were legendary and despite being in the same year, she'd never been a target or victim. But, it seemed as though her time had come.

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to find a single positive about the cursed situation. The nerves twisted her stomach into a knot while she listened to nearing footsteps. Maybe, if she played along and let them get it out of their system, they would leave quicker, and get back to ignoring her.

Another couple of torturous seconds crawled by before the twin who she thought might be George yanked open the cabin door.

She forced herself to breathe and tilted her head to meet them with a perturbed expression glued to her face; brows furrowed, lips pursed, and arms crossed. Every Slytherin instinct whispered in her ear to hex them back to London but the exhaustion from her emotional goodbye a few hours ago overwhelmed any anger left, resigning her to accept this fate without much of a fight.

"Well hello, Violet. Today is your lucky day."

She was right, the one coming in first was George Weasley. She recognized the two moles on the left side of his neck from Herbology last year when she'd fantasized about slashing his jugular when he wouldn't shut up.

He moved her feet from the bench opposite her, and she stared at him, noting that his slightly crooked nose also distinguished him from the brother coming in second. Once seated, they stared at her with intense brown eyes, and eager slack-jaw smiles —incredibly sharp features exaggerated by flowing radioactive red hair, waiting for an answer.

"Is that so?" she growled, conjuring a deadpan stare.

The twins straightened their chests and leaned forward simultaneously. "Yes, indeed," Fred said, the excitement in his face and voice completely unaffected by her cold response. "And we'll tell you why. George?"

"For a limited time only, you have the incredible opportunity to join us on an intellectual exploration," George explained. She shot him a disapproving glance before shifting back to Fred who was nodding fervently at his brother's side. "Groundbreaking research," he added, sensing her apprehension.

"I've never exactly thought of you two as intellectual," she sneered.

"Been thinking about us though?" George teased.

She cursed herself for the blush that formed instantly and shifted her gaze back to Fred who was still waiting anxiously to explain the situation.

"All you need to do is eat this delicious toffee," Fred said, producing a brown lump from his robe.

He shoved it towards her and unsuccessfully tried to hide the mischievous glint in his eye with a sweet smile.

She glared at him, remaining silent, unsure of what to say next. What were they trying to pull? And why did they think that she was going to fall for it this easily? Did they think she was stupid?

She narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore her bruised dignity. "You're joking," she drawled, earning fake looks of concern from both of the twins. "What makes you think I'm going to fall for that?"

Fred's long red hair covered his face slightly as he shook his head. "See this is where everyone keeps misunderstanding us, George."

George leaned across the small space between them. "Indeed Fred —Violet darling, clearly our offer is much too transparent to be a prank," he said, now a little too close for comfort. "This is product research for our business so please try and take it seriously."

She scowled at the pet name and leaned away. Why was he being so familiar with her?

Gryffindors. Always too friendly to be trusted. At least her fellow Slytherins never tried to hide their agenda, no matter how much their bluntness stung.

It was difficult to gauge how to best get rid of them. Their puppy dog eyes didn't seem to be affected by rudeness, if anything, it seemed to egg them on further. She decided to try another route instead, hoping to catch them off guard.

"Fine. In the spirit of transparency, say that I do eat it," she said. "What will happen to me?"

Their coy confidence turned to surprise. "It's only ever been tested on a Muggle so we have no clue," George confessed matter-o-factly. "Hence it being such a great research opportunity."

"You'd be a pioneer," Fred finished, a stupid confident grin returning to his face. "Maybe even a legend."

Violet looked down at Fred's outstretched arm and plucked the brown ball from his hand. She stared at it skeptically and brought it up to her nose. It smelled just like normal toffee, but no way it was that simple.

The twins exchanged a nervous glance and she could tell that they were holding their breath.

They most likely doubted her ability to take a joke and were probably nervous about the outcome of their prank, if she did indeed fall for it.

She couldn't blame them, of course. Last year, Blaise Zabini, one of Malfoy's toadies, joked about her mother being a muggle during the Halloween feast, and nearly the whole school had witnessed her merciless rebuttal. She stifled a smile, remembering the look on his face when she'd stuck her wand in his mouth and said "Langlock." His friends had scrambled and scratched to open his mouth again and Madam Pomfrey had about reached her wits end trying to figure out how to separate his tongue from the roof of his mouth. She wondered if they'd been there for that, but the sudden hesitation in George's smile told her they were well aware of her short fuse.

Lucky for them though, she didn't have enough energy to fly off the handle today.

She slipped her wand out of her bag and touched the tip to the toffee, muttering a revealing charm. "Specialis Revelio."

The twins lunged forward to snatch their sweet back, but she was quicker.

"An engorgement charm?"

"That's cheating," Fred protested.

"What is this?"

They stared at her with a mixture of defeat and annoyance.

"It's a ton-tongue-toffee," George said grimly. "The newest product from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

She remembered him talking about his plans for a joke shop constantly in Herbology, while his gaggle of admiring Gryffindors hung onto every word but she never thought he could be serious about such a stupid career endeavor.

She frowned. "That's idiotic."

"That's the whole point," Fred snapped. "It would've been funny if you hadn't taken the easy way out."

"What would have been funny?" she countered, relishing in their sudden mood shift from smug to perturbed. "Me casting a counter-charm as soon as I felt my tongue swelling? I thought you two were supposed to be good at pranks."

She tried to hide her delight at the ability to get under their skin. Their presence was unwelcome but not as completely intolerable as she had expected, even as their cheerful nature and goofy grins faded, they were almost bearable.

Suddenly, she saw something dark shift over George's gaze. "Well then eat it, if you're so sure."

Violet's eyes widened, unprepared for the confident challenge. Irritation moved swiftly through her chest. She tried to hide her nerves and glanced down at the ball in her hand. It would be easier to tell them to leave, or even get up and walk away but she couldn't let a Weasley best her.

If living inside of her head was her first flaw, then pride was her second.

Her eyes bore holes into George's, and regardless of what happened next, his look of shock was prize enough as she popped the lump into her mouth. The toffee was a little warm and soft but not inedible, she wondered if their mother had made it.

Her mouth was fuzzy before she even swallowed, and as she had suspected, her tongue began to swell profusely. She poked the tip of her wand to her tongue as it flopped out of her mouth, nearly reaching twice its size.

"Reducio."

The twin's mouths dropped open in shock before they exchanged a curious glance. Even though the counter-charm came out with a slight lisp, as quick as it had happened, her mouth closed around her normal-sized tongue, the caramel-like taste of toffee on her lips all that remained of the prank.

She broke her staring contest with George and glanced back to Fred, but neither looked like they were going to say anything.

Arrogance replaced her irritation and she just couldn't hold back.

"Had you not thought of that?" She asked with a smug smile. "I hope none of your other products are so easily reversible. Who would want to buy something so temporary? Faulty merchandise is hardly a way to run a business."

They both stared at her in displeasure, but George looked more enraged than anything, not that she cared about hurting his feelings. This was turning out to be quite fun, she thought.

"Well, you've been a lovely assistant," Fred said, trying to quell the tension and clearly over the situation. "C'mon Georgie, finding someone less capable than Wilkes will be a snap."

George didn't budge. He just stared back at her, his brow furrowed, like he couldn't remember her name anymore. The thoughtful expression was freaking her out. She waited for him to return to the annoying ginger twat who had entered her cabin without permission but his expression didn't change.

His eyes searched hers for something but she couldn't tell what. She chanted 'fuck off' in her head, hoping that he could see the sentiment reflected in her eyes.

How odd, looking at them now, they weren't identical at all. While Fred seemed to operate as their crazy motor, George was something else…steering wheel maybe? Regardless, she was glad their exchange was coming to an end.

"What would you suggest then?" George inquired with a sneer, standing up to follow his brother out the door. "Since you're so smart."

As if she'd help them.

George loomed over her, blocking her view of anything else. She stared up at him defiantly, not letting his size intimidate her. The question lingered in the thick air between them, ringing in her ears over and over. Surprisingly, she did indeed have an answer to his inquiry, not that she was going to say anything. They didn't deserve her help, even if she could mask it as superiority. She waited for him to leave but he seemed just as content sitting in their tension as she was.

He smirked and that threw her over the edge.

Besting him in his expertise would be a satisfying final nail in the coffin and he'd asked for it. She didn't mind him this way, begging her to intellectually best him.

"Potions," she blurted.

She watched his eyes widen. "What?"

"Potions," she repeated wearily. "If you had used Swelling Solution, it wouldn't have been detectable by a revealing charm and no one would take the time to brew its antidote. Victims would be stuck with a fat tongue until the effects wore off, which, apparently, is funny."

It had meant to sound smug but it came out too much like she was tutoring him in earnest. He looked just as surprised at her tone as she was and stood up a little straighter, before reaching for the door. She glanced down at her hands, aware of his eyes still on her, and cursed the sincerity in her voice, hoping he wouldn't take it seriously or respond.

Thankfully, the door clicked shut and his footsteps disappeared down the hall, without another word. She sighed in relief and stuffed the book back into her bag to finally go find Sadie.

Violet shook the strange interaction with the Weasleys from her head and pushed through, packed train car, after packed train car before reaching the self-anointed 'Slytherin Only' door. Out of all the options on the train, her house had managed to claim the worst one. The tables and benches were much more uncomfortable than the stuffy cabins and the openness of the room made every ride a free-for-all.

The window fogged from her breath for a moment but through the sea of green, black, and silver, she could just make out the short, dark-haired girl she'd been looking for.

She wove through the room, focusing on Sadie's scowling face, at the back table. She followed the witch's death glare to a gaggle of girls surrounding Draco Malfoy across the room, holding up some Quidditch pamphlet that was somehow making them squeal. She pushed through a group of large boys lurking around a few older sixth years and successfully made it the length of the train without anyone trying to speak with her, or leer something hurtful, which was prone to happen.

"I was beginning to wonder if you even got on," Sadie said.

"Please, hold your applause," she responded, thankful to hear her friend's voice after months apart.

Sadie smirked knowingly. "Did you yak?"

Violet sat on the bench across from her. "Nope. Almost threw myself out of the window near Manchester though, when the Weasley twins raided my compartment."

She thought about recounting the entirety of the strange interaction but decided against it, as Sadie already seemed perturbed enough.

"Merlin, those spazzy gits never take a day off. We haven't even started the school year yet," she murmured. "Please tell me you unleashed your wrath on them."

Before she could answer, a chorus of ooh's and ahh's erupted from the show going on at the front table.

"Oi get a room or shut the hell up," Sadie yelled, earning her more than a few dirty looks around the room and an especially sour sneer from Malfoy himself.

"Shove off, Baldock," Malfoy sneered.

Normally, Violet would've laughed but she didn't particularly feel like drawing attention to herself today so she turned to avoid his gaze.

"I swear, those girls should be over that albino twat by now," she scowled, staring daggers into Malfoy's back.

"Not everyone has your refined taste Sades."

Her friend fell silent, gazing towards the blond boy dreamily. "Vi, do you think I could kill him? Snap him like a twig or something?"

She laughed and turned slightly, ensuring that Malfoy's ominous gaze was off of them. "Surely he deserves a more painful death than that."

She shifted in her seat to rest the side of her face against the window and smiled at Sadie's hearty, murderous cackle. The cool glass quelled any queasiness left as she watched the sunset over Scotland, signaling that the ride was almost over. Despite her surroundings and previous disposition, it was quite beautiful.

As she has suspected, Sadie recounted the first couple hours of the ride with impeccable detail. Pansy Parkinson had gotten an unfortunate haircut, Theodore Knott had gotten hotter over the summer, and Malfoy wouldn't shut up about the Quidditch World Cup.

Her mind snapped to the dark mark once again. Of course, the Malfoy's had been in attendance.

"He was there?" she whispered across the table.

"Of course he was. As if his family would miss an opportunity to show off to the whole world," Sadie said rolling her eyes.

"What did he say about it?"

"Just the usual. Father this, ministers box that. Gloating twat."

"Did he say anything about the ending…about the Dark Mark?"

Violet's ears rang.

A forgotten picture she'd stumbled upon in her father's abandoned school photo album flashed in her mind once more. Lucious Malfoy swinging his arm around her uncle, clad in Slytherin robes, a year before the war started. Their smiling faces were unburdened from what was yet to come.

The same Lucious Malfoy who was charged with being a Death Eater, but ultimately exonerated.

Sadie shrugged. "Just that he saw Potter running scared like a little girl," she said plainly before launching into the details of her summer. It was the same every year; she fought with her sisters and mother all summer long, and then cried like a baby while saying goodbye to them on the platform.

Violet attempted to tune her out and glanced at the cruel blonde.

This was the closest she'd been to him in nearly two years. Ever since Lucious had recognized her father on the platform, she'd taken every precaution to dodge him in every meal, class, or school event, in order to avoid the things that he knew about her.

The image of both Malfoy's smiles twitching smugly as Lucious recanted the Wilkes family history to his monstrous son on the train platform flashed in her mind. Her father had ushered the family away, uncaring of the secrets that would follow her to school and unwilling to speak about it.

She knew he knew, and even though he had every opportunity to tell the whole school, he didn't. Or rather, hadn't yet, like she knew he would someday. She could tell that he was waiting for the most opportune time by the way he said half-blood, and blood traitor instead of her name and the way his eyes were always just a little too confident when regarding her. The anticipation and fear seemed to be torture enough, for him. Surely though, it was only a matter of time.

His presence suddenly became too much. The thought of sharing a room with someone so amused by the ridicule of anyone who wasn't of pure-blood made the taste of bile claw up her throat.

"Sades," she interrupted her friend who was still animatedly speaking. "Wanna head back to mine and change?"

The dark-haired witch nodded and chattered on.

She led them both back down the train, breathing freely again among less threatening red, blue, and yellow students. She was relieved to have Sadie rambling at her side, yelling at first years in their way, and shoving leering seventh-year boys back into the cabins.

They finally reached the last car, and suddenly, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. A tall redhead was leaning against the wall outside of her cabin. He was staring down at his shoes and muttering something. She couldn't tell which one it was from this angle but had a hunch.

Two times in one day? She must be cursed.

Her stomach tangled itself once more with nerves. Maybe he'd come back to enact some cruel revenge on her, for thwarting his prank. She gripped Sadies hand a little tighter, thankful to have her as a backup if things went south. The sound of her footsteps made him finally lookup. She wasn't expecting the expressionless look on his face, and suddenly she doubted that he wanted to harm her at all.

Sadie saw him not a second later and pushed past her, letting go of her hand and yelling, "Bothering her once wasn't enough, you back for more Weasley?"

George's calm face suddenly contorted into panic as Sadie shoved past him and into the cabin. Violet didn't move, and stared at him from a few paces away, unsure of what he was doing if not pranking her.

She hadn't noticed his height earlier when they were sitting, but now that she stood in front of him, it was a shock to be eye level with his chest. Concealing her nervousness to the best of her ability, she met his eyes.

"What?" She said deadpan, hoping to convey his unwelcomeness as much as Sadie had.

He furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground for a moment, failing to hide a flustered blush.

"Sorry…erm — I thought I forgot something —talk to you later," he mumbled through a forced smile. The sudden change in demeanor was surprising. His attempt at confidence was oddly manufactured and she saw, for the first time, a glimmer of shyness.

Git. He probably needed his brother for backup.

Before she could say anything, he brushed past her and sped down the hall and out the door.

"What the bloody hell was that," Sadie said, scrunching her nose in annoyance. "Freaks, the lot of them."

Violet's stomach detangled itself and she turned to watch the floppy long hair retreat from view. She nodded in agreement but kept her mouth closed.

#george weasley x original female character #george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #dating george weasley

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 14

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: hiya so before you start reading, if you’re not from the uk or interested in academic life in the uk, russell group is a very odd word. russell groups are what ivy leagues are in the us meaning it’s a group of very prestigious unis like cambridge, oxford and durham. just thought i should explain what it was so no one’s confused. also remember that weird episode carter baizen had a very badly made tattoo on his wrist? yeah that is mentioned here bc i basically decided that young seb acted like carter. sorry for taking longer than usual to post but i hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

- Don’t you wanna kiss me? - he caged her between the wall and him, hands resting on both side of her head. - Be honest.

He was close enough so she could see every detail and texture of the skin of his face and feel his soft and controlled breathe. Y/N couldn’t help but touch his face, her fingers lingering on tiny little scar marks that seemed to have faded over the years but not enough to departure his face, to tracing his jaw to finally settling on his lips. Curiously, her thumb swiped down his lip almost as if she was trying to erase the fact that her own lips knew exactly what his felt like.

There was this undeniable pull between the two of them that Y/N couldn’t deny existed, however, she was much too smart to give in again. She had plenty of examples where giving in to affections led to terrible fates beginning with Juliet and both hers and her beloved’s death and ending all the way with Anna Karenina jumping in front of a train. No, Y/N was much too smart to ignore what surrounded her. However, she was still a young woman and like so, she was no match for the rotten judgement that came along with her young years. Nevertheless, she pressed her body harshly against the wall, hoping that somehow she could merge with it and avoid the question that was being posed to her.

- Cat got your tongue, angel? - he questioned yet it didn’t sound like a mock as it sounded like a tease. - You can talk to me. I know you’ve missed me.

- I don’t know what you’re talking about. - she turned her head to the side, hand clutching the towel for dear life. If there was something worse sounding than this situation was being naked in front of him, her friend’s fiancé. Sebastian smirked, noticing how she had bared her neck to him unknowingly giving a clear view of the bruises forming from last night. God, it was quite a sight, a sight he could get used to seeing every single day.

He could just see it in front of him. Waking up every single morning to her already flushed cheeks in one of those sheer white pyjamas with her soft skin bruised from several nights of pure undecided pleasure. Y/N, on the other hand, was trying her best not to lower her hand to the skin showing through the V of his grey tee shirt which looked very inviting. Stop it, Y/N. You’re a smart woman, this is just the hormones speaking.

- I was wondering if you’d accompany me for breakfast. There’s the little spot downtown I’m certain you’d enjoy.

- Did you ask Gwen? - her voice came uncertain almost paining her to mention Gwen in the middle of all of this. Gwen needed to be mention, they were gonna be married, they are gonna be married. That is certainty.

Sebastian stepped back as if he had been hit by lighting before sighing and leaving her be. Her loyalties lied way too deep with the Forrests and he wasn’t about to get her in trouble or do something she didn’t feel like doing. Y/N, on the other hand, watched the door like a hawk watching as he left with a sense of guilt she couldn’t deny. It was just a crush, she told herself, it was just a crush and crushes are normal. Single people crush on married ones all the time that does not mean they will try and ruin a wedding, not that Y/N could ruin something that wall already ruined.

A single part of hers expected him to be teasing again and enter the room once more but he didn’t and after she spent a long while leaned against the wall as if some invisible force was holding her, Y/N decided it would be best if she got dressed and checked on Gwen, mostly to ensure the heiress was home. After she was in a long sweater accompanied by some black leggings, she followed the wall down to Gwen’s bedroom, knocking on the door rather loudly.

From her knock, what sounded like a commotion could be heard from inside the heiress’ bedroom along with the sounds of feet paddling the ground until the door was opened. However, instead of Gwen standing there with her usual bed ridden eyes, it was her bodyguard who opened the door in a rather untidy way, carrying his trousers in hand. Y/N peeked inside the bedroom, an equally untidy Gwen with the sheets up to her collarbones waving goodbye at Christian.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep but Y/N was livid. She stomped into the bedroom, closed the door behind her and crossed her arms at the woman she had known since they were both born.

- Are you joking? - she questioned, attempting to sound annoyed but it came more as of a “again?” sort of inquiry. - You can’t do that under Sebastian’s roof when he’s at home.

- Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m careful. - she shrugged, her hand coming to push her own hair back which caused the sun to hit the gem on her engagement ring. God, she didn’t even take it off. - It’s not like he can kill me.

- Genevieve, you’re engaged. You’re gonna be married and all you’re doing is acting like a teenager. God, I understand you don’t wanna get married to someone you don’t like but the least you can do is try to be his friend, at least.

- I don’t need friends like Sebastian and I also don’t need you to lecture me.

- Seems like you do considering you’ve been sleeping around ever since we came into this house when you’re engaged. - she pointed at the engagement ring on Gwen’s finger but she merely huffed as if Y/N was reprimanding her for something completely unnecessary. - Gwen, your father asked ...

- You’re just being jealous, Y/N. - the handmaid was stunned by those words. Jealous of what? - You’ve always been jealous. You’re jealous that no one has ever looked at you and now you’re trying to destroy my love life.

- You shouldn’t have a love life, you’re engaged. - Y/N tried to reason with the redhead but she was much to head strong to listen. - I’m done discussing this with you.

- Then do me a favour and stop giving your opinion on my engagement.

- I’m just try ...

- Miss Forrest? - one of the maids knocked on the door, creaking it ever so slightly. - Your father’s here.

- My father? - Gwen furrowed her eyebrows, jumping from the bed with her sheets wrapped around her. - Why is my father hre?

- I don’t know. - Y/N shrugged but her mind was certainly going haywire about what could it be. Had he gotten word she had kissed Sebastian? Was he here to fire her. She didn’t know.

- Go distract him. - the heiress pushed Y/N out of the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

The handmaid sighed, wondering if Mr. Forrest was in a good mood or if she was about to be fired. Maybe being fired was a good idea, that would mean she would be as far away from Sebastian as possible. However, little to no people get fired from mob related jobs even if they’re not complete associates. Instead they got to sleep with the fish and Y/N wasn’t a big fan of that.

As she went down the stairs she could see Mr. Forrest in his signature black suit and red tie he had been wearing since he could remember. He always look sophisticated enough for you to wonder if he was some sort of professor in a Russell or Ivy League group. However, he had this air of familiarity which Sebastian lacked, making Sebastian a more austere person to look at. Maybe it was that Y/N had grown up around Mr. Forrest and not Sebastian, but Mr. Forrest was always very approachable.

- Y/N! - he smiled at the sight of the young handmaid. - What happened to your neck?

- My neck? - her hand covered her neck as she realised what was in her neck in full display for everyone who was curious enough to look at. Oh fuck. - Oh ... I burned myself with a curling iron.

- Did they take you to the hospital? - he inspected the marks on her neck.

- No, Mr. Forrest, it is fine. I’ve done it before, it’ll be gone in a few weeks. - she smiled nervously. - So ... we weren’t expecting your visit today, Sir. Is there something the matter?

- I need to speak with Mr. Stan about the Paris’ events. It was a clear lack of security and you two could’ve gotten harmed.

- But it was an ambush, sir. I don’t think it’s his fault. - she shifted her weight from feet to feet, eyes everywhere but his face. - Besides, his first worry was Genevieve. He rushed her out of the hotel once the shots were heard and none of us were harmed.

- Who protected you during the shot?

- My bodyguard. I think it is really unfair to blame Mr. Stan for something he wasn’t expecting, sir. Besides, he took care of Gwen. - she was lying but if she were to tell the father of the heiress that Sebastian had went to her instead of his daughter, they would both be axed off. Not that he would kill Sebastian, he would probably kill her and just yell at Sebastian which, honestly, would have little to no effect on him.

- Living with Mr. Stan really hasn’t changed your forgiven nature, has it? - his expression softened, taking the weight of guilty out of Y/N’s back. - Nevertheless, there is still some affairs that need to be mentioned and discussed, specifically the wedding.

- He’s ready for you, sir. - Amelia spoke out and Mr. Forrest nodded his goodbye to Y/N.

Y/N just stood there, sighing in relief that he seemed to not have any idea that she had locked lips with his daughter’s husband to be and that she had managed to grab Sebastian out of the madness that was him thinking Gwen had been alone.

The young girl sat on the coach, thinking she could take this break to breathe without stress but Gwen soon came down the stairs with Christian behind her whose hand was resting in the back pocket of her jeans. Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing one of the books from the coffee table and opening it up. She? Jealous? Of what exactly? Just because she wanted them to at least be friendly with each other did not mean she was jealous of Gwen’s engagement.

- Where’s dad?

- He’s in a meeting with Sebastian. - Y/N didn’t even raise her eyes from her book, speaking with a rather bland voice.

- Being mad is childish, Y/N. - she shrugged, stepping to the kitchen to grab a tangerine.

- I’m not mad at you, Gwen.

- If you’re not mad at me then you can cover for me while I go shopping with Christian. - it wasn’t like Y/N was in the place to complain anymore so she just nodded, pulling her legs up so her feet were resting on the couch as she got lost in another one of Austen’s works.

Jane Austen was one of Y/N’s favourite writers despite many book snobs thinking it was overrated. This was mostly due to the intelligence that even subdued female characters seemed to hold and the way she described everything with just the right amount of detail to allow your mind to flow freely into her worlds.

She was much too lost in Mansfield Park’s words to notice Sebastian and Mr. Forrest had walked down the stairs and were now in the living room. This was only brought to her attention once her name was called out by Mr. Forrest, inquiring about his daughter.

- She’s still asleep. - she lied probably for the 100th time today. - Rough night.

- Still adapting to the mattress. - Sebastian added, certain that Y/N was covering for the heiress.

- Ah ... Y/N, I hope you and Gwen come to visit soon. The house has certainly loss youth ever since you two left.

- Of course, Mr. Forrest. - Y/N smiled, waving goodbye as he entered the lift, leaving Y/N and Sebastian in the living room. God, why was the universe still allowing them to be alone in closed environments?

- The maid said you and Gwen were in a fight. Are you okay? - he asked but still kept his distance, the austere like posture still very much presence which was a far cry from the relaxed vibe he used to put out when with her.

- Yeah, she was just ... having a bit of fun with Christian. - Y/N put the book down on the coffee table, wrapping her arms around her knees which were folded close to her chest.

- I can have a word with her if it bothers you.

- It doesn’t bother me. - once again lying. She would never admit it to herself but it bothered her that Gwen could go around being engaged and she couldn’t go around with Sebastian. Someone had to be the moral one.

- Sounds like it does, angel. - there it was, the nickname. - You sure you don’t want me to fire him?

- No, I want you and Gwen to at least be friends. You’re gonna be married and if you’re not attracted to each other you could at least be friends. - Sebastian sat next to her on the luxurious leathered deep couch.

- You have to understand that people don’t get to marry because they’re friends or like each other in this sort of business. It’s not what we do.

- Just because it’s what it’s done doesn’t been it should be done. Do you seriously want to be married for the rest of your life to someone you’re not even friendly with?

- In all honesty Y/N, me and Gwen won’t even live in the same house after we get married. She was to go to LA and I’ll let her go there, we just need to be married, not together or in love.

- I don’t wanna go to LA, it’s too hot. - she spoke out without even putting her thought through the rational part of her brain. - I’ve never left NY, I don’t wanna leave to go to LA.

- Just quit. - he shrugged. - You do know you can quit your job and actually have a life right?

- People don’t quit the mob.

- You’re a handmaid, you’re not exactly part of the mob. Besides, you have a Cambridge degree you can get a job.

- I don’t have any experience besides I’ve never actually did anything other than this. I don’t have experience, I don’t have parents, I don’t have a family at all. - she grimaced at the thought but it was true. She never knew her parents and the only thing she had from them was the necklace from her mother, there was no other immediate family around or if there were Mr. Forrest always said they were dead. At the end of the day, she was by herself in a world that had been shielded away from her. What she knew was being by Gwen’s side and basically making sure she didn’t die. - I don’t have anything to inherit, I have a degree yes but I never actually worked a single day in my life. I don’t have enough money to make a downpayment on a home or to even rent in NY. God, I don’t even have enough money to buy a ticket to get out of NY.

- I’m sorry, Y/N. - he reached his hand out, caressing her jaw which led her to notice a dark mark on his wrist she hadn’t noticed before.

- Is that a tattoo? - her eyes lit with curiosity. - I’ve never noticed that before. When did you got a tattoo?

- When I was 16. Me and my friends faked our parents signatures and got it done at a weird place downtown. My father was livid and I’m pretty sure he died still mad about it.

- Well, it does look very bad. - she bite her lip to hold in a laugh.

- Stop biting your lip, angel. - he said in a warning tone, hand lowering to one of the hickeys near her collarbone. - You are tempting me.

- You should learn to control yourself then.

- I don’t know if I wanna control myself around you.

- I think we suffer from the same thing, then ... Sir.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/N #sebastian stan/y/n #mob!sebastian stan #mob boss!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan #mafia!sebastian stan

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Note

39. "If he's the devil, I finally understand the appeal of hell." 79. "One more word and I'll stitch those lips of yours shut." I'm coming back with more requests 🤣

39. "If he's the devil, I finally understand the appeal of hell."

79. "One more word and I'll stitch those lips of yours shut."

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A/N - Since you didn’t specify who it is for, I’m choosing my current obsession aka Nicholas Scratch :)

Pairing: Nick x nephillim!reader

Summary: Deciding to be bold and visit hell, Y/N finds someone is need of help.

Warnings: ANGST

Word count: 1800+

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All witches go to hell eventually, it’s the price of walking down the path of night. A necessary evil for a very long life filled with beauty and power - a combination very few could ever deny.

Y/N walked a different path, one very few were given directions to. Path of light was guaranteed only for nephillms and being the daughter of an archangel, Michael, Y/N found herself more powerful, pure and possibly the most ambitious than any witch that walked the earth.

While witches served the dark lord, Y/N sought to destroy him and all he hold dear. Hell could be her domain. She certainly wanted to try.

A portal to hell was easy to find, entering it ever easier considering a fallen archangel ruled it, but she felt weakened. Her powers were far from what they usually are and she couldn’t help but wonder if the danger she’ll face because of it might be worth a retreat...at least for a while.

“A peak won’t hurt, will it?” She whispers under her breath, convincing herself to at least see the throne of lies made by the king of hell. A part of her needed to see Lucifer for herself, to understand what she’s fighting against.

Mouth hanging open, she found her heart picking up speed as she noted the empty throne, glorious as she imagined it to be.

“Wow.” She breathes out, stepping out from her hiding spot without a second thought. Her steps are determined, the look of awe on her face unmatched by anything he had seen and while she was none the wiser, he made himself seen.

“See something you like?” The low drawl of his voice tugs at her heartstrings and she feels it drop. Is it fear? Perhaps lust? It was hard to tell as she looked at the one speaking.

She hated her thoughts, but they were all coherent and in agreement: ‘If he's the devil, I finally understand the appeal of hell.’

He’s shirtless, his muscular body showing off every ab, every inch of his perfect skin. His dark hair frames his chiseled face perfectly, a little unkempt but the appeal is only stronger with the messy curls forming on top of his head. His forehead is sweaty, his eyes as dark as she suspected his soul is and just as tormented.

There’s something in his tortured gaze, the black pools framed with long eyelashes that call out for the uncorrupted to make certain it is stained after a single touch of his sinfully big hands. The smirk is what truly brings her to her knees and while she knew better, Y/N nods.

“Can’t lie.” She folds her arms and smirks confidently. “The throne is up to my taste.”

“Oh? I was certain you’d compliment the body suit I’m wearing.” Sticking his tongue out, he steps closer and Y/N steps back accordingly, holding in a breath that would escape along a scream. A forked tongue? A meat suit?

Lucifer is possessing someone and for once, the throne wasn’t on her mind.

“Who are you possessing?” She tried to act innocent, buy some time to form a plan. Could she really fight the devil for dominance in the name of a man she had first seen just a minute ago?

She wasn’t really sure.

“A warlock who sighed his soul over to me.” Raising an eyebrow, he folds his hands in front of him, just before the skimpy underwear he’s got on.

“He sacrificed his life to save the world, if you can believe it.” Lucifer steps closer once again and she stands her ground, clenching her jaw to stop it from quivering.

“You sound almost”, she pauses to find the right words, cursing her anxiety for making it hard to converse, “impressed.” She raises an eyebrow too, daring him to speak more.

“Nicholas Scratch showed a great deal of loyalty and courage...too bad it wasn’t shown for me.” Growling the last bit, Lucifer’s face darkens and Y/N’s heart sinks further.

Nicholas...The name suited him, but it made it harder for her. She couldn’t leave him behind. Not now.

“So why not release him?” Baiting him, Y/N remains impassive on the outside while a hurricane ravages her insides. “He’s of no use to you now.” She steps closer, trying to conjure all of her power. If she can leave a mark of an angel upon him, the devil would have to leave his body and she’d have just enough time to teleport back to earth where Lucifer can’t follow as easily.

“Why would I do that? Torturing him every second of every day is so fun!” Chuckling as Y/N’s left eye twitched ever so slightly, Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re in his body. It’s his territory. What if he wins and you’re but a forgotten goat inside a closed off hell?” Losing her temper wasn’t wise, but Y/N had no restrain. Longer she remained in hell, weaker she felt and while she knew it definitely isn’t her domain, she needed to save the warlock who didn’t belong there either. Not for a long while, at least.

However, her words irked the dark lord, causing his charming facade to fade as well. "One more word and I'll stitch those lips of yours shut."

Holding her breath, Y/N knew it was a matter of time before she lost her advantage and Lucifer realized her identity. So, she mustered all her energy, every last bit of her essence channeled into her right hand and when she fixed her gaze on him, she didn’t fail.

Smiling, almost viciously, Y/N jumped on Nicholas’ body, her right hand landing on his left shoulder and the scream erupting from him echoed in every corner of hell.

She felt the body shaking, held onto him with all she had while he all but convulsed and when she heard him coughing, she looked in time to see a black matter leave his weakened form.

Mumbling a spell, a flash of bright light set hell into a frenzy, temporarily blinding any demon in its vicinity.

Opening her eyes, she found herself back in her home, Nicholas’ body in her arms. As he collapsed, taking her down with him, Y/N felt her heart crack with worry.

What if it killed him? Demons tend to kill their host, so what if Lucifer killed him too?

Her lips tremble as her fingers press above his carotid, awaiting anything to take the weight off her shoulders. Blood thumping against her fingers drew a relaxed sigh, one that made her giggle with relief.

“Thank God.” She exclaimed, ignoring tears pricking at her eyes. Nicholas is safe and she had to make sure he stayed safe.

Spelling him onto the bed, she tended to his fragile body and most importantly, his mind. Reaching him wasn’t possible as his thoughts were erratic, but she did find one important clue - where she needs to bring him back...to who she needs to bring him back to.

Sitting back in her chair, Y/N couldn’t help but shed a tear.

Nicholas felt familiar, somehow drew her to him and while she could pretend she didn’t care for him, her heart already had a place for him. It’s angel’s nature to love fiercely, to recognize kindred spirits and she never met anyone more suitable for her.

“Pity.” She smiles though the pain, an affliction that comes with letting go of someone she knew would have changed her life for the better. He could have been her one - someone to love truly, madly, deeply, but she saw her - Spellman, as he called her. His heart wasn’t free and unattached and he would never love an angel.

He’s a warlock, walking the path of night and destruction and she will always be Michael’s daughter, meant to be a beacon of light and hope. Darkness and light don’t mix, she knew that. He’d snuff out her light if she allowed herself another moment of weakness...of love.

“You won’t remember this.” Her frown deepens and she sighs heavily, leaning over him with lips pressed together. “You will never know what we could have been, or what I did for you.” Leaning in, she allows her lips to tremble before pressing them against his forehead with a tenderness she didn’t know she possessed.

“It’s too late for me. I will always wonder how you are or if you’re safe, but you’ll never be damned with the thought of me.” A sad smile appears on her lips as she feels the tears form once more.

“Why is it so hard to let go of what isn’t even mine?” Resting her forehead against his, the tip of her nose brushing just past his, her grief of what must be done dissipating with determination to do right by him.

“I hope you find happiness.”

And in a blink, Nicholas was back, laying next to unsuspecting Sabrina.

Opening his eyes, Nick sat up with a gasp, looking around with a wild look in his dark eyes. “Where?” He breathes out, convinced someone else was beside him and it was definitely not Sabrina.

“Hold on, Nick. I’ll get help!” Sabrina jumps to her feet, but Nick is quicker.

“Where is she?!” He can’t remember much, but he remembers a warmth, a sense of safety he never felt before.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. Nick, calm down!” Sabrina stepped closer, wanting to hold him - to simply take his pain away and he allows her the intimacy of a hug. It just doesn’t feel right. Not as it felt...he just can’t remember when or with who. All he knows is that someone had helped him out of the mess he made and he was safe.

Perhaps it wasn’t real and Lucifer made him hallucinate a woman made of light, but he could have sworn he felt her lips on his skin. He could have sworn he heard her soothing voice guide him through the dark.

“What the?” Sabrina frowns, pushing him away just to stand and look at his shoulder, frowning with concern. “There’s a...hand print on your shoulder!” She exclaims, moving out of the way so he’d see it in the reflection and despite the pain he feels inside, Nicholas smiled as tears formed in his eyes.

“She was real.” And he had a clue how to find her.

#nicholas scratch #nicholas scratch x reader #nicholas scratch angst #nick scratch #nick scratch x reader

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 4 years

Text

Loving the enemy | d.m

Request: nope

Word count: 2255

Warning: betray, bit of angst, heavy heartbreak

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Note: I wanted this to be a one shot, but now I’m thinking about turning this into a mini series. Let me know what you think and if you want a Part 2 (or more). Love you all. xx

All my life, I was told to choose the right path. To do everything in my power to stay loyal to myself. No matter what others say, rather be alone than with the wrong crowd. I was walking around the Castle, always making sure the corridor was empty when I took a turn from one to another. It was in the air. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time for Voldemort and his army to come and destroy everything what was so kind to our heart. Hogwarts. The place which had been my home for seven years. I grew up in here. Found lifelong friends here. I fell in love and got my heart broken for the first time in my life. I learnt to be a great witch here. The thought that I might lose everyone and everything scared me to death.

- Hey – cold, ring covered fingers grabbed my hand from behind, and I let out a small squeak. I turned around with my wand already in my other hand, ready to throw a defensive spell at whoever tried to attack me – Easy, it’s just me.

- Draco – a sigh left my lift as a sign of relief – You shouldn’t go around grabbing people like that when you know very well, Voldemort can come any minute now – I scolded my boyfriend softly, and put my head on his chest. I could hear his heart pounding loudly against his ribs. He kissed the top of my head lovingly.

- Sorry – he whispered and held me closer to his body – I wanted to make sure you were okay, because I didn’t see you at dinner tonight. You still haven’t got your appetite back? Have you eaten today?

- Calm down – I laughed – I wasn’t hungry, but yeah, I had eaten a bit today.

- You need to eat, baby – he pressed his lips into a thin line. Worry was written all over his perfect face. The last few weeks were too stressful with schoolwork, and there was death hanging above as, ready to ruin everything we cherished in our lives, I couldn’t force myself to eat. Every single time I joined my friends for lunch or dinner, all I could do was stare at my food. I wanted to be brave and I wanted to stay strong, but after all, we were still just kids at the edge of adulthood. We were supposed to get in trouble because of our pranks. We were supposed to go on dates at the Three Broomsticks. We were supposed to make the water in our cups turn into Butterbeer or Fire Whiskey and get drunk in the Common Rooms after the Prefects finished their night routines. We were supposed to fall in love and sneak out in the middle of the night to be with our boyfriend or girlfriend. But instead of making memories and having the time of of our lives, we spent our free hours with perfecting our duelling skills, learning defensive spells and training, so when the time comes, we are prepared to fight, or at least stay alive.

- What are you thinking about? – Draco asked. I didn’t notice when he laced his fingers together with mine and led me to his dorm room. When I was snapped out of my thoughts, I saw him sitting on his bed, looking at me with an unknown emotion on his face.

I looked at him for too long. I wanted him to be safe. I wanted to protect him. I was terrified of losing him in the battle. I was terrified because he never said anything about the upcoming tragic event. Every time I brought it up, he suddenly had a very important thing he just couldn’t miss leaving me hanging, or simply changed the subject. Draco was never the man of words or emotions. He preferred actions over everything. In our love life, school work or when he wanted to keep his reputation. But how could someone tell their fears with actions? He had never cried. Not in front of me. He had never trembled, nor had troubles falling asleep. And yet, when I looked at him, I could see his skin being even paler than his usual tone, and the circles under his eyes were way too dark for my liking.

- How can you not be afraid? – I asked him simply. My guts warning me something might be off, and my arms suddenly wrapped themselves around my body as if they wanted to protect my from something – Why can’t we have a conversation about this?

Draco’s eyes darkened and he walked to his window. He didn’t give me an answer, just stared at my reflection on the glass. I stared back. Analysing every single feature of his face, I saw how his beautiful grey eyes lost their sparkle and were filled with sorrow. I saw his eyebrows wrinkled as he thought about something. His lips were pressed into a thin line again. And finally, after all this time, I could see real emotions running through his face after each other. Worry. Pain. Fear. Love. Disappointment. Hopelessness. My heart broke at the sight of him.

- Draco – I said his name softly – What’s going on?

He turned around but didn’t come any closer to me. He was playing with his shirt’s sleeve and chewing on his bottom lip. A habit of him when he was nervous. I knew something was odd about him. Slowly, but everything came together in my mind. Draco refused to wear anything, but long sleeved shirts. He started to wear those to bed as well, even though he hated to have a shirt on for sleeping. Every time we made love, we had to turn off the lights, and he casted a spell which turned the whole room completely dark. I ignored the voice in my head, which was basically screaming at me to do not go any closer, crossing a line.

- Baby – I breathed and with a sudden movement, I pulled up his sleeve, revealing the mark on his forearm. There it was. Black ink standing out on his almost milk white skin. The Dark Mark dancing on his arm, like it was celebrating the fact the Voldemort had striked again. Gaining another soldier for his army, destroying an innocent soul. I felt empty. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think straight. I was terrified for him. He was just a boy. I didn’t understand anything. Was it against his own will? Did he want to join the Death Eaters? I felt betrayed. I refused to believe that he would do such a thing on his own will. Could he really throw away everything? Could he really risk our lives?

- Y/N – Draco tried to grab my hand but I stepped away from him – Please, hear me out…

- Why didn’t you tell me? – I asked him – Did you want to keep it as a secret? Did you really think I would never find out?

- No, of course not – he shook his head and took a step closer to me, but my cold stare stopped him from taking any more – I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. I was waiting for the right moment, I guess.

- The right moment? – I raised my voice a bit, but I had to remind myself not to cause a scene because our classmates were outside in the Common Room – And what would have been the right moment, Draco? During the battle when I see you fighting on Voldemort’s side? – I hissed the last couple of words – Please, tell me you won’t…

Draco couldn’t look me in the eye. His icy blue eyes were looking everywhere in the room, but me. I waited. I waited for him to tell me he would never go against his School. The place which was his getaway from his poor excuse of a father. It was his safe place. It was OUR safe place.

- Baby girl – his voice broke a little and I knew. I knew that his silence what in fact the answer for my question. To the one that I had asked, and to those which remained buried in me. I stood there, completely devastated. Trying to find the boy who I had fallen in love with. The boy, who would have tried to do everything in his power to protect those who he loved. I was questioning myself. His loyalty. Every single word coming out of his mouth. I felt broken. But no matter how heartbroken I was in that very moment, all I could think about was one thing. How was I supposed to protect him from everything that was waiting for us?

- Y/N – my lips rolled off of his tongue as a silent prayer – Love, please…

- You’re weak – a bitter laugh fell out of my mouth. I was mad. Mad at him for not standing up for himself. Mad at him, for lying to me for weeks. Mad at him, for putting himself in such a dangerous situation. And I was mad at my own self, because even though I wanted to hex him right there and then, I still loved him with every piece of my heart – It all begins and ends in your mind, Draco. What you give power to and has power over you, if you allow it. And you did. You let Voldemort to have that damn power over you.

- I had no choice. Believe me, if I had, I would have choose differently and… - his voice was desperate, but so I was. I was trying to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. All those pieces were still beating for him and hoping that this whole thing was just one terrible dream and I’ll soon wake up in his arms. But deep down I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t even know if that time will come one day, when I can wake up from a nightmare free dream, wrapped in his loving and protecting arms, listening to his light snoring, and the beating of his heart. Feeling him hugging me tighter when he was waking up, or dreaming. Smiling into our morning kiss, and admiring his beautiful face. Getting lost in his dreamy blue eyes, while we’re talking about our future together. Where we want to travel. Where we want to live…Live, how funny. Like we had any chance of that.

- Bullshit – I snorted – You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice.

I knew it must have been hard for him. Everyone in his family was a Death Eater, but so were my ascendants. I chose. And I chose the right path as I was taught when I was little. I was in the impossible situation. My mind and my heart were in a huge war, making it extreme hard to choose, but I had to. One of us in this relationship had to be on the right path, and make the final decision.

- What do you mean? – his eyes were filled with tears, and that was the moment I realised, I had been crying this whole time. Everything was too overwhelming. My head was spinning from the million thoughts chasing each other, and my heart was pounding way too rapidly, I was scared it might explode in any seconds. My whole body was shaking from fear and my fist was numb from the too tight grip – Y/N?

- What I mean is – I took a deep breath, knowing very well that I was about to make a decision that will affect both of us in a bad way – I have made my decision a long time ago. I know who my ascendants are, but I’m not one of them. I’m Y/F/N, and I can choose freely. And I did. I love you, Draco. Salazar is my witness that I really do. I love you so much it literally hurts me, but I have to break my own heart now. This is a serious situation, and you know it too…

- So you choose Potter over me? – venom filled his words and his eyes darkened even more. He was in pain. I broke him. But I had too.

- No, Draco – I shook my head at him – I choose my friends who became family to me over the years. I choose Hogwarts, which was my home away from home. I love you, Draco, but they were here for me way before you made up your mind and decided you wanted me.

- Baby – he choked out from his sobs – I love you. I love you so much, please…Please do not leave me. I need you – he fell on his knees – I’ll go crazy without you… - I was sobbing with him. My whole body was aching and I didn’t know if I could make it out alive – Why?

- Because I’ll always protect my family, Draco – my voice was only a whisper. And with that, I left his room.

I left his room, leaving Draco screaming in his hands, in the middle of his room. I was running down the empty halls of Hogwarts. I should have admire its beauty while I had the chance, but my tears blurred my vision. I tore my heart out from my chest and left it on the bedroom floor. Completely shattered. Shattered by me. I knew I couldn’t have protect him out there. Just like him, I had no choice…

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x slytherin!reader #voldemort #wizarding war #harry potter

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