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ddarker-dreams · 3 months

Text

What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun.

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes.

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way.

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat.

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore.

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread.

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do.

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation.

“Bored?” Feitan asks.

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation.

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—”

He flicks your forehead, silencing you.

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.”

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression.

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail.

You’ve felt this before.

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape.

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute.

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last.

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey.

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of—

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?”

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small.

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?”

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of.

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak.

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy.

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long.

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you.

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He��s just shy.”

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets.

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss.

Especially those regarding you.

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck.

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

Almost.

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders.

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer.

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.”

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.”

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.”

“There’s more to take care of?”

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.”

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.”

“Explains what, dear?”

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?”

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process.

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand.

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle.

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him.

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.”

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you.

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely.

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.”

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence.

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic.

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without.

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.”

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.”

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.”

The aforementioned man grunts.

Chrollo spares you a long, final look.

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile.

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

#feitan x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere feitan x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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joosthead · 3 months

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SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F) gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you.

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making.

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour.

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else.

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed.

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down.

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you.

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house.

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing.

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—”

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.”

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away.

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating.

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days.

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake.

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again.

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?”

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.”

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.”

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you.

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth.

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles.

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles.

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.”

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet.

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again.

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?”

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.”

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is.

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own.

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else.

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option.

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to.

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.”

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.”

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet.

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him.

“Much too long.”

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl.

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.”

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is.

“I might have to promise with how this is going.”

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.”

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.”

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all. He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips.

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly.

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough. The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most.

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship.

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album.

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts.

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?”

“You…you wrote a song about me?”

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded.

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention.

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now.

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.”

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.”

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap.

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.”

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.”

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied. You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.”

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together.

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?”

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.”

“But I wanted to know.”

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.”

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost klein x you #joost #joost smut #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #juno's fics #answered prompt #smut prompts #juno’s smut

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httpswritings · 9 months

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vicious cycle — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: smut (?) at least suggestive tone, toxic situationship, commitment issues.

Word count: 964

Summary: Alexia and you are stuck in a vicious cycle of sexual encounters where there's no place for something else.

A/N: This is my first try writing some smut (it's not really smut but like an introduction). There's some suggestive tone in the Katie/Hayley ficlet, but this one gets a little bit more in-depth into it.

[...] “Okay, but only with one rule. We are going to my house, so then it's up to you if you leave or not. Understood?“ That was the only condition you put and Alexia accepted it. Before that, you already had some encounters with her, ending in Alexia ghosting you, only to end up on the same bed at night. You were tired of her behavior, but you didn't want to stop whatever you had with her. She knew how to make love to a woman, and you defended yourself pretty well too, trapping both of you in these silly adventures. To your other teammates, Alexia and you were only that, teammates. Little did they know what was happening behind closed doors. Something similar to Lucy and Ona's case.

Alexia looked at you sleeping peacefully. She covered you with the duvet, tucking you in your bed as you released a deep sigh. Your left arm was moving around the mattress, looking for her, resting as you hugged the duvet, thinking it was her the one you were hugging from behind. Alexia closed her eyes, witnessing that moment had only made her decision to leave more difficult. As she was about to open the door to get out of your house, she retracted her decision.

Alexia went back to your room, putting her clothes off and getting in bed with only her underwear. She knew she would regret it, but the image of you looking for her warmth had had a huge effect on her. She woke you up to ask you if you were okay with her staying, and you, agreeing, answered the best way you could as you were still half asleep. She got nearer you, making you hug her from behind.

Her staying surprised you, but you didn't give it a second thought as you were on the verge of falling asleep again, feeling her body press against yours and hearing her breathing getting heavier as she was falling asleep. “Goodnight, Ale.” “Bona nit.”

As you kept having sporadic encounters with her, those encounters started to change. At first, they only reflected pure attraction. Of course there was some care and tenderness, but they suddenly started to become more loving, and they lasted longer. Even if Alexia didn't spend the night at your house, she would stay for some hours. You could see love reflected in her eyes. Everything became much more intimate. Slower movements and softer kisses.

Alexia loved being on top of you as she rubbed herself below your core perfectly in sync with you. Before, she would be more harsh until she started to realize how much she adored watching you below her calling her name out.

You had a thing for gripping Alexia's hair and biting her shoulder as she kept grinding on top of you, her arms gripping the pillow at both sides of your head. You knew that a few slaps in her ass and your nails slowly scratching her back always drove her insane. She knew that the sight of her breasts bouncing up and down with her movements pushed you over the edge.

As the weeks passed, Alexia would spend most of the nights at your apartment and leave early in the morning. That's why, when you woke up one day and saw her peacefully sleeping next to you, you took some time to admire her as much as the poor illumination of the room let you. You decided to enjoy the moment, as this would most likely not happen again. You knew both of you were scared of commitment, and even if you tried to be in a relationship with her, it would all be in vain.

“Fuck it“, you thought as you slipped under Alexia's arms, looking for her warmth. As she woke up, you rushed to beg her, “Please, stay like this for a minute”, fearing she would leave rapidly like every morning. “Sure.” You felt quite pathetic for begging for crumbs of her love, but you didn't care enough to let her go. You hid your face between her neck and her hair, and Alexia pulled up the duvet to cover you completely as she pressed her arms harder around you.

You wished that you would wake up like this every morning and not wake up to an empty space on your bed, still warm from her body. You kissed her neck, and as you heard her sigh deeply, you asked, “Can I continue?” “Yes.“

So you did. Kissing her on every centimeter of her neck, refusing to look into her eyes. Your mind told you to stop, and surprisingly, you did. A wave of pride hit you. Maybe at night you'd end up with her again in your bed, but right now you had to put yourself first. It made sense to you. Giving her a quick peck on the lips, you stood up and told her you'd go shower, leaving it up to her if she would wait for you to come out of the shower or leave.

Both of you knew the answer to your question. And as you had imagined, Alexia had left before you got out of the shower. You sat down on her side of the bed, snuggling into the pillow, and a wave of sadness and emptiness hit your face. Tears fell down your face as the image of Alexia couldn't leave your mind. You received a message from Alexia, «Had so much fun last night. You always make me feel so comfortable. Wanna repeat that tonight?» The message only made you cry harder. You knew you had entered into a vicious cycle where there was only a place for Alexia, your bed, and yourself, and anything that wasn't that was set to fail.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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trippinsorrows · 2 months

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give me a reason + one

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. granted, i'm a bit excited about this one, as it's a unique storyline, at least not as cliched as maybe 'ltye' or 'with me'. trope is essentially age gap x best friends brother x second chance romance x something else that'll be revealed by the end of this chapter and my own creative flairs.

the age gap between mariella and joe is four years, and nothing romantic happened between them until she was in her twenties. just putting that out there now. ari don't do that grooming shit.

their story will be told in a mixture of flashbacks and present day. how they ended up where they are now will eventually be revealed, but until then, it's expected that ya'll are confused.

words: 9k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: angst and fluff

if i tag anyone and you don't want to be tagged, please let me know!

taglist: @annfg8 @whatdoeseverybodywant @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @prettybitxhnica @shayaaaaaaa

Summer, 2003

“Ladies, next week officially starts the beginning of the rest of our lives. No longer will we be lowly 8th graders. No, we will be official high schoolers! Next week is a new beginning, a new era, a new decade of wonderful, fabulous, life changing—”

“Baby girl, do you want a hot dog or a burger?”

Mariella releases the loudest, most exaggerated sigh known to mankind that is possible for a 14-year-old. She turns from where she was pacing across the stones that line around her family’s pool. Sure enough, her 6’3 father stands before her with his spatula in hand, wearing his apron gifted to him for Father’s Day a couple years back. He’s using his free hand to shield his face from the blaring sun.

“Daddy! I was in the middle of a monologue!”

Byron Holmes looks as disinterested as the tone of his voice. “Ella, you always talking. How am I supposed to know the difference?”

This time, it’s a dramatic gasp that's evoked instead of the previous one born from irritation. “I resent you saying that, father!”

“I’m sure you do, now do you want a hot dog or burger?”

Mariella might quite possibly be the most dramatic person to walk the earth, but the promise of one of her dad’s famous grilled burgers is too good to turn down. She can turn her strong feelings at being interrupted into a song at a later date and time.

Defeated, unable to overpower the desire for good food, she murmurs, “burger, please.”

“Thank you.” Byron Sr. shakes his head. Getting an answer from the prisoners is easier than getting one from his youngest sometimes. He then sets his gaze on her audience. “What about you girls?”

Promise Rose is the first to answer, that usual nervous smile on her face as she adjusts her thick rimmed glasses. “A hot dog, please, Mr. Holmes.”

Byron nods, committing her request to memory. He then turns to the other, already knowing what he’s in for. “Iris?”

Her hazel eyes that are obscured by the heavy set of eyeliner land on him with icy indifference. “I refuse to participate in the travesty and continued slaughter of the innocent just for the selfish pleasure and satisfaction of the greedy carnivorous species that occupies this stolen land.”

Byron releases a heavy sigh. It’s always something with this one. “Is that a yes or no, Iris?”

Iris lifts her chin, answering just as coldly, “I’ll just take the bread.”

Relieved and eager to be away from the only fourteen-year-old who could unnerve him, even with his twenty plus years as a prison warden, he walks away, mumbling to himself, “I swear something is wrong with that child….”

Returned to the previous topic at hand, Mariella plops down on the pool chaise across from her two best friends since third grade. “Now where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?”

“The inevitable extinction of mankind.”

“Surviving high school.”

Mariella rolls her eyes. It can so difficult sometimes to get her two polar opposite besties on the same page.

“We just have to make sure we do everything perfect.”

Promise Rose chews nervously on the corner of her lip and criss crosses her legs over each other. She looks between the two of them, anxiety growing by the second. “Ella is right. With BJ and Joe graduating this year, we’ve gotta make sure we elevate our social status or else we’re dead meat.”

Confused, Mariella asks, “what do you mean?” She then adds, “our social status is fine.”

Promise Rose looks over at an uninterested Iris. “Help here?”

“I refuse to subscribe to the patriarchy of social hierarchies.”

“Oh geez.” She should have known better. Iris refuses to get hip with anything if it’s not sticking a finger to the man. “Ella, it’s only because of your brother and Joe that we haven’t been bullied out of school. We are literally only semi-popular because of association. Without the guys, we’re nerds.”

Mariella would have preferred an actual dirty, jagged edge dagger be shoved into her chest. “We are not nerds!”

“Ella, you’re weird. I’m scared of everything. And Iris contemplates murder every hour on the hour.”

Iris shrugs, pushing her Kaleidoscope colored hair over her tanned shoulder. “Only on exceptionally bad days.”

“I rest my case.”

Mariella isn’t beyond consideration of alternative perspectives. She takes Promise Rose words to heart, trying her best to see it objectively.

She’s also not above admitting that having her brother and Joe look out for her over the years has only been beneficial. Even with them being out of middle school for almost four years now, their popularity has existed since damn near elementary school. Them and her twins sisters, Everly and Olivia, really. But especially Byron and Joe, mostly because of their standing as football players, two of the best on every team they’ve been on. Because of that, there’s not a soul in town who doesn’t know her as BJ’s little sister and Joe’s adopted little sister.

She’s always seen that as protecting her from guys messing with her but never associated it with social status.

And just as she’s undergoing a life changing realization, the creak of the side gate snatches her attention, revealing the two people who can clear all this up for her.

“BJ!”

Mariella untangles her legs from off the pool chair and jogs over to her brother and Joe.

“Damn, not even home for five minutes, and you already sweating me.”

Glaring, she shoves on his chest, muttering, “you’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Aye, watch your math. You too young to be cussing.”

She ignores him. With his 18th birthday right around the corner, Byron Jr., BJ as everyone calls him, has been on some weird power, superiority trip.

Mariella redirects her focus to Joe, accepting his side hug. “Whassup, Ri.”

Mariella has a variety of nicknames. Her parents bounce back and forth between Mariella and Ella, mostly everyone else calls her Ella, but with Joe, she’s just Ri.

It’s kind of an unspoken rule that only he can call her that.

Joseph Anoa’i.

Mariella can’t think of a time Joe wasn’t in her life. Not only does he and his equally large family live just a few doors down, he’s played football with BJ since they were six-years-old, before she was old enough to know what football even was. An almost quiet, level headed balance to her sometimes hot headed biological brother, Joe is Mariella’s big brother from another mother. Hes has always looked out for her just as much as BJ, if not more.

He’s essentially been informally adopted by her family as BJ’s brother for life.

“Hey, Joe.” Separating from him, she turns back toward the two of them. “Okay, I have a question, and it’s imperative you provide me with the raw, honest truth.”

Joe seems at least somewhat interested, but BJ is the one to make the smart comment. “Make it quick. I’m hungry. Practice was brutal.”

A brief brow lift from Joe is confirmation BJ isn’t exaggerating, so in a moment of rarity, Mariella bypasses all of the theatrics and skips right to the point. “Am I a nerd?”

Mariella expects contemplation, some level of astonishment that she could even fix her mouth to ask such a thing. Instead, she’s met with her brother shrugging with a simple, “of course, you are.”

Mouth ajar, hand to her chest, she asks, “what?”

“Come on, Ella, you know you’re kinda weird. Be talking to yourself and stuff.”

“It’s a sign of genius, thank you very much.”

“It’s a sign of weirdness.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a sign of unspoken protest. “If you wasn’t my little sister, I’d probably bully your nerdy ass.”

Completely done with the young man she once considered brother, Mariella looks over at Joe to see he’s on his phone. Probably texting his latest girlfriend of the week. Latisha, or something like that. He seems to cycle through girls faster than BJ. “Joe?”

He lifts his gaze from his phone, and Mariella readies to remind him of the initial question when he answers. “You’re just you, Ri. That’s all that matters.”

She’s not sure why she expected more. Joe can be of so few words at times. She just wishes this wasn’t one of those times.

“While I do not agree with the expressed opinions, I appreciate the candor.” Chin lifted, she bids them farewell. “I will leave you be now.” Mariella can briefly overhear Joe saying something about Latisha, but it’s pushed away, outweighed by this new shocking piece of information.

In walking back over to her best friends and future members of her team when she’s a world famous singer, Mariella is unsurprised to find Promise Rose sitting on the edge of her seat while Iris simply glares at nothing and no one.

Promise Rose is the first to speak, asking with all of the anxiety she carries on a daily basis. “Well?”

Mariella would love to lie to them, but these are her best friends. She could never do such a thing, even if the truth sucks more than the rumors of a pending B2K breakup. “You’re right.” Shoulders slumped, she groans loudly and throws herself back on the pool chair. “We’re dead meat.”

—-------

Present

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

Watching her perform has always been an experience, a treat, a vision in some ways. The way she moves across the stage, so demanding, so in the moment, the eye contact and engagement with the crowd creating such an all-encompassing experience.

On the stage, performing, is her element. It’s always been where she shines the most, and tonight is no different.

She’s up for a couple Grammys, already snagging two, as expected. He knows the ones she’s really anxious about are the coveted Album and Record of the Year. It’s something she’s always dreamed of achieving, and while there have been whispers that she’s a shoe in, Joe has known Mariella long enough to know that’s not enough.

It’ll only mean something to her when they’re in her hands.

And he’s confident they will be. She’s had yet another stellar, groundbreaking year, her album somehow doing better than her last. No one’s seeing numbers and sales like her. Her pen game is unmatched, not to mention her album is almost entirely written and produced by her, something unheard of these days.

She truly is an icon in the making.

And the way she ends her performance with a standing ovation from some of music’s best is just more proof of how much she’s killing it.

Joe watches her walk backstage after nervously basking in such a response from people she’s looked up to her whole life.

She doesn’t return to her seat next to him, as expected. The final two categories are about to be announced, and he realizes it would be easier for her to remain backstage when her name is called.

And the minute it is, he finds himself nodding with a small smile. He knew she could do it, knew that there was no way she could release such accomplished work and not leave with acknowledgment of such.

There’s an almost awkward but appropriate pause as the attendees stand and applaud, Mari suddenly rushing out from the back while holding her dress up. For a brief second, he thinks she’s gonna fall flat on her face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She's a talented dancer, but the textbook definition of a klutz.

Always has been.

But, she doesn’t. Thank God. He knows that’s something she would never let herself live down.

Seconds later, she’s at the mic, panicking, “oh my god!” Her breathing is uneven, and he can bet it’s because she was in the back wearing a hole in the floor with her nervous pacing. “I’m sorry, I was in the back having a panic attack.” That might not be entirely untrue. “And also, my dress is not dressing for some reason, so I’m just gonna awkwardly hold this up to avoid flashing anyone and getting sued by the FCC.” He shakes his head. Even with all the fame, she’s remained the same. “Okay, but seriously, this is insane? Ummm, thank you! I don’t— have no idea what to say. God is so good. My mama would kill me if I didn’t say that. Ooh, I want to thank my parents, of course! My big brother and two older sisters for always putting up with me singing and dancing all over the house.” Always isn’t an exaggeration. Joe can’t recall a time where he walked into the Holmes adobe and wasn’t met with or overheard Mariella working on some aspect of her craft, whether that was writing, creating beats, learning a new dance. She’s always been so focused on getting exactly where she is now.

She continues to thank her team, rushing through the litany of individuals she attributes to helping her stand where she does with the awards that she’s been awarded this night. And when he doesn’t hear his name included, he knows right away she’s in a relatively good mood, willing to play up their Oscar worthy performance.

“And lastly, to my amazing husband,” her eyes search the room, finally landing on him. “Joe, you are my best friend and my biggest supporter. I love you so much. Thank you for always being in my corner and putting up with all of my crackhead energy.” Her eyes are teary, but he has no doubt she’s pulling from the emotion at crossing off yet another box from so long ago versus feeling so moved by her inauthentic words.

But again, he follows along with this song and dance they’ve mastered at this point, mouthing once again that he loves her too.

The music begins to play indicating that she’s maxed out her time, and he hears her quickly throw out, “I’m not on crack, by the way!” before she walks off the stage, ushered by Pharrell and Diane Warren.

Theres’s something both treasured and uncomfortable about those words leaving her mouth. They’re so freely used these days. By both of them. But the meaning and impact behind them is long gone, some place in the past where demons and skeletons lie, often tampered with but never fully addressed.

It now just leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

—-------

“I have a show on the 13th you need to be at.”

Joe is sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his tie, focused on the balcony doors across from him instead of to his right where she sits at her vanity, removing her jewelry.

“What?” He doesn’t need to be looking at her to know she’s angled toward him, face turned up in disgust. “Of March?”

There’s no need for a wordy answer. “Yeah.”

“I can’t.” Mari has made it a goal of hers to stay on top of her calendar as she prepares to enter the next era of her career. With the Grammy’s now over, the end of this award season is upon her, and preparation for her next album is underway. It’s why she knows and communicates in the moment of the scheduling conflict. “I have a meeting with my label to start discussing my next album.”

Joe can’t deny the fact that he half-expected her to come up with some excuse, some reason as to why she yet again can’t do her part of this joint collab of theirs. “Can’t you move it?”

“Why should I have to move my stuff around for you?” Mari can count a variety of times where she’s done so before, but that was then. This is now. They’re miles away from where they once were, and she’s not willing to inconvenience herself for him.

Not anymore.

Meanwhile, Joe doesn’t understand why everything that’s inherently so simple has to be made so fucking complex. It’s never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with her. “You can tell Jax if a date doesn’t work for you. I can’t do that shit with Paul.” And she knows that. Mariella is well aware of how the WWE works. Dates are set in stone months in advance, years in advance sometimes for PPV’s. She’s just being difficult for no damn reason.

As per usual.

In a perfect world, Mariella would be celebrating right now, would be in attendance at the prestigious Grammy’s After-Party celebrating her major accomplishments. Instead, she sits in the room with a man who seems hellbent on stealing her joy in any way he can these days.

It makes her sick.

She’s fully turned toward him, even as he refuses to look her way. Intentional, of course. He knows how big she is on eye contact. “I did that the last time I went to a taping, Joe. I’m not gonna keep doing it.”

He glances at her, and she instantly knows he’s not backing down, not willing to let this lie. She knows she’s in for another pow-wow. A signature finish for most outings these days. “But, I can show up for you?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like this isn’t as beneficial for you as it is for me.” One thing she won’t put up with is him acting like their arrangement isn’t just as great for his career as it is for hers. The press and fans of both of them eat up any type of public appearance, especially when he plays the role of the loving, supportive husband who wants to celebrate his wife’s big wins with her. “And you know how busy I am after award season.”

He knows that’s typically when she gets back in the kitchen to start cooking up her next album, where she locks herself in the studio for hours on end writing, producing, escaping.

“And WrestleMania season isn’t for me?”

Truth be told, she’d briefly forgotten about that, forgotten that the biggest night of his career is only two months away. A small part of her hates that. Hates how far they are from where they once were. There was once a time where she had every single event committed to memory, would bend over backwards to attend as many of his shows that she could.

Now, she couldn’t give two shits.

The same way he feels about her.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” She turns back to the mirror to safely remove her diamonds. They’ll need to be returned tomorrow to the designer, and the last thing she wants is to drop or lose something because of his ass. “You got your little whores there anyway. What do you need me for?”

It’s a petty but truthful jab. Mariella knows good and well that her showing up to one of his tapings after he attended the Grammys with her will be ate up by their fans. It’s good press. Great, even.

But the thought of sitting there, with the full, painful, embarrassing knowledge that the women behind the scenes, the women who are hidden behind NDA’s and WWE hush money, see her for the fraud she is. Know that Joe will end up fucking them when the night is over and returning home to her with the scent of their cheap perfume and not an ounce of regret.

It almost makes her stomach turn.

He chuckles, and that’s what makes her gaze snap back onto him. She hates when he does this, when he makes it seem like shit is funny. There’s nothing comical about this tragedy. “Did I say something funny?”

“Forget it.” And now he’s dismissive, trying to shut down an argument that he started. “You don’t fucking listen anyway.”

“Are you serious right now?” Mari’s eyes go wide as she stands up, finally rid of six figure jewelry but basked in growing rage. “I don’t listen? Joe, you don’t listen! You never listen! You haven’t in years.”

Joe feeds off her energy, the quiet anger he’s usually well adept at concealing bubbling its way to the surface. No one’s ever been able to get him riled up like she does. “Naw, you not gon’ do that. Make it seem like this is on me. You do what you want and then expect me to just be okay with shit.”

“Wow. This is rich. Absolutely rich.” Mari can only laugh, because this part is funny. It’s hilarious. His lack of insight is astounding. “You are the most selfish bastard I have ever met.”

“Here it is.” He’s now standing as well, hulking body angled towards her, towering over her even with her designer heels. He motions with his hand for her to continue, to go on with the victim narrative she loves to clothe herself in. “Keep going. Tell me all this shit you already know about me, how awful I am—”

“Because you are!”

Something about the intensity in her voice sends him, makes him snap back easily. “And you’re a fucking saint?” His volume is also rising, which he hates. He never allows anyone to have access to that button, to know what to press and how to press it to get him this worked up. “You don’t never do shit wrong?”

Mariella feels her anger intensify as he turns to walk away from her. She’s hot on his heels, following him into the bathroom. “God, you always do this! You always put it back on me. It’s never your fault. Always mine!”

“And this is what I’m saying.” He has his big hands planted on the bathroom counter, looking at her through the large, mounted mirror. “You’re not even hearing what I’m saying. Always so fucking defensive. I’m not the one who don’t listen, Mari! You are!”

She can’t deny there have been a number of occasions where she’s jumped into defensive mode sooner than what’s necessary. Mariella isn’t above acknowledging that. But for him to make it seem like it’s not for a good reason, if not for his role is something she won’t stand for. “So what if I am defensive, huh? Who made me this way? You did, you bastard!”

“Just stop fucking’ talking, alright?” He’s pulling his suit jacket off, tone a mixture of defeat and exhaustion. Emotional or physical, she’s not sure. She knows she certainly feels both. “I don’t wanna hear this shit anymore.”

“And now here you go, always walking away, always taking the easy way out.” Because this is his MO. He loves to accuse and gaslight, and the minute she calls him out on his hypocrisy, he wants to shut everything down. It’s infuriating.

“Fine!” He slams his fists down on the same granite counter Mariella still remembers him once making out with her on, a starting point that ended with him carrying her to their once shared bed where he would make love to her throughout the night. Such a far away, almost unfamiliar time. “You want to sit here and continue yelling, be my fucking guest. I’m not saying shit though!”

“There you go again with more avoidance. God, you’re so predictable! Shit gets too hard, you shut down. You run away.”

“Don’t fucking act like you ever want to talk about shit with me—”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Joe. You don’t know what I want, okay? You don’t know anything about me anymore!”

“And whose fault is that, Mariella, huh? You don’t tell me shit! You never tell me shit!”

“Why should I? You don’t deserve to know shit about me anymore!” It’s more emotions than anything that fuels her to add on the accusatory, “It’s not like you care in the first damn place!” It also has to be the emotions that have her eyes watering, because it’s been forever and a day since an argument between them—and there have been plenty—has made her feel anything other than anger.

This is different.

This is sadness.

Mariella watches as Joe punches the adjacent wall, the action taking her by surprise and making her jump back from said shock. “What do you want me to say, huh?” It’s been years since she’s seen him this upset. “No matter what I fucking say, what I fucking do, nothing’s ever right, so what’s the goddamn point!” With almost desperation, he shouts, “what the hell do you want from me!”

“I want you to love me again!” She snaps with a burst of visceral emotions. His anger simmers instantaneously. Joe knows that was the last thing she wanted to say, the deep down secret she’s worked hard to keep hidden and tucked away suddenly laid out in the open for all to see. The devastation on her face gives it away as she says more to herself than him in an equally devastated tone, “but that’s gone, isn't it? Everything we had…..everything we were…..is gone.”

An eerie silence settles over them. Joe closes his eyes and does his best to regulate his conflicting emotions. Everything is felt at once. So strong, so confusing, so pressing. That was the last thing he expected to hear from her, the same way the last thing he expected to feel at said words is longing. It’s so unfamiliar and confusing. She has so much power over him. To evoke such strong emotions with just a single sentence. To make him suddenly battle with the array of feelings he’s felt toward and about her at any given point in all of the many years they’ve known each other.

It’s just a fucking mess.

But then, the focus isn’t on his emotions anymore. It’s on the quiet sniffling he hears that makes him close his eyes. Joe instantly feels something different, something similar yet almost stronger than guilt.

She’s still standing at the doorway, but her hands are covering her face, failing to hide what is both visible and audible.

Tears.

She’s crying.

Something else unfamiliar settles over him, something almost nostalgic, that once upon a time uncomfortable plethora of emotions he’d find himself battling whenever he saw she was upset.

It never sat right with him to see her cry.

His tone immediately shifts to something significantly calmer. “Mari….”

“I’m just tired, Joe. I’m so so…..tired.” And it’s with an almost whisper into the enclosed palm of her hands that she grabs the nail for the coffin. “And I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He’s dangerously still, rendered almost physically unable to move. The air around them is suddenly so much more noticeable, heavier, weightier, debilitating.

She lifts her head, revealing a tear stained, distraught expression that makes him almost as equally distraught. “I don’t want to live like this anymore, Joe. I’m not happy. You’re not happy.” Each word leaving her mouth chips away his anger and replaces it with something unidentifiable. “It’s obvious you don’t love me anymore, and that’s—” Her throat catches as she forces herself to continue. “—that’s okay. Our careers are stable enough to where we don’t have to keep up this facade anymore.”

“Mariella—”

“I want a divorce.”

For some reason, there’s always been this belief system that any argument between them is just a part, a part that’s followed up with another one, then another, and then another. But, it never dawned on him that a single part could be the final part.

The final straw.

“Mariella, we—”

He’s stepping toward her, and she’s instantly stepping back, lifting her arms. She doesn’t want him near her, doesn’t want him touching her. It’s a sting, that’s for sure.

“Don’t.” And he won’t. Won’t cross her boundaries even if everything in him is screaming to do so, to bypass her wishes that are being fueled by something temporary. Something that will fade by the time morning rolls around. “Just….don’t.”

She’s wiping at her eyes and mutters, “I need some air.”

He doesn’t like seeing her walk away in this manner, doesn’t like ending on this point. It’s one thing to leave off with the promise of another chapter, but it’s an entirely different thing to know that what could follow is the back cover without the anticipation for a sequel.

But, he says nothing.

Does nothing.

He just lets her leave.

—-------

2007

The phone ringing less than ten minutes after Joe plopped his big body in the bed was the last thing he expected and needed. Coach put them through hell today, and he’d completely forgotten about an assignment due the next day, so he’d forced himself to power through his physical exhaustion to get it submitted.

Unlike a lot of his teammates, Joe does care about his academics as much as he cares about football. He recognizes it’s important to have something to fall back on. And as a senior, he’s really at the point where failure just isn’t an option.

He’s come too far now for that shit.

When the phone rings a second time, he realizes it might be worth answering, even if everything in his body wants him to let it ring 18 times if that’s what it takes for the caller to get the message.

Not even bothering to check who it is, Joe grabs his cell and hits the green button. “Yeah?”

He’s met with soft sniffling followed up with a quiet, “it’s me.”

At that, Joe sits up in his bed, all attention on the person on the other end. “Ri?” He’s wide awake now. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to call so late—”

“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t care about that anymore, just wants to know what happened to make her phone him at such a time. To phone him crying, at that. That’s the part that makes him concerned.

He can’t remember the last time he’s seen or heard her do that.

He hears shuffling on the other end as she chokes out, “can you—can you come get me?”

It’s not even a question. “Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

—--

Joe nearly knocks down the damn mailbox in front of the frat house with how quickly he pulls up, his truck coming to an abrupt sudden stop. He’s barely got the truck shut off when he’s ripping the door open and jogging up the path to the house of entitled, elitist pricks who get off on the misery of others.

But, he’s more focused on Mariella who meets him halfway on the path of said house, arms wrapped around her body.

He’s assessing her from head to toe, using the dim streetlight as a guide in the stark darkness of the night. “What happened?” Realizing she’s still hugging himself, Joe’s blood goes cold. “Did he touch you?” And when she doesn’t say anything right away, he’s trying to move past her, murder on his mind. “I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No.” Her hand is on his chest, restraining him as much as she can. The truth is that it would be nothing for him to carefully move her to the side and beat the living shit out of her asshole of a boyfriend who he’s never liked from day one. “He didn’t.”

Joe doesn’t put it past her to try to say what she thinks he wants to hear. “Ri, don’t lie to me.”

“I promise. He didn’t. We just—” and the emotion rises back up, making her pause as she pleads with him. “Can we just go? Please?”

Joe knows why she called him and not Byron. Because Joe nods and guides her to his truck without further protest. Byron would have beat Damien first and maybe or maybe not asked questions later for the mere fact that he made his baby sister cry.

The ride back to his dorm is silent, and it’s not until they are sitting outside on the steps of Joe’s residence hall that he asks again, much calmer, still as curious, “what happened, Ri?”

It takes a few minutes for her to start talking, and while he does his best to be patient, it’s also really fucking hard to not just bypass the conversation and go straight back to the original plan of murder.

“We were—we were messing around.” Instantly, Joe’s anger suddenly shifts to disgust. While he recognizes his best friend’s little sister isn’t so little anymore, eighteen and a college freshman, she’ll always be that goofy, klutzy, theatrical kid who was always trying to hang out with him and Byron. So, hearing about her messing around is the last thing he wants, but he also doesn’t want to interrupt and allows her to continue. “He wanted to have sex, but I—I told him no.” And before the murder plan can be revived, she clarifies. “And he stopped, but then we started arguing, and he—he told me he was tired of waiting, but I said I’m not changing my mind and….and he broke up with me.”

In some strange sort of way, Joe is more relieved than anything, mostly at the fact that nothing physical happened. It sucks, and he hates seeing her upset, but it’s really a blessing in disguise. Even if she doesn’t see it yet.

Still, he’s sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Ri.”

She sniffles again, wiping at her eyes. “I really liked him and—and I thought he liked me.”

Joe wants so badly to tell her that Damien never liked her. He liked that she was a virgin.

Mariella had made the cardinal mistake of sharing with her ex that she was still a virgin, something the bastard, like Damien, thought he could change. When that didn’t happen and a breakup followed, that same asshole took it upon himself to share her virgin status with several friends, several teammates. And it’s become a bit of a contest almost among the basketball team, to see who can take it from her first.

It’s fucking disgusting and makes him sick, but it’s also the culture of college athletes.

Some, at least.

“He’s an idiot, Ri.” This is said both because it’s true but also because he just wants her to feel better, to not feel like she lost out on some prize. If anything, she dodged a bullet.

“Maybe I’m the idiot.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “Cause I keep finding myself in the same situation.”

He’d like to call it an exaggeration, but Joe also knows that this has been an issue in almost all of her relationships for the past few years. Less an issue and more a deal breaker. Sex is something that’s deeply personal and important to her, and he’s happy she’s that way, that she isn’t just sleeping around with anyone. Especially since she seems to have a penchant for athletes.

They can be the worst.

He would know.

“Athletes can be hoes, Ri. That has nothing to do with you.”

“You and B aren’t like that.” She then corrects with an ounce of her usual sense of humor. “I mean, you guys are hoes, but you’re nice hoes.”

He laughs. That’s a bit of the Mariella he’s used to. “True, but maybe we’re the exception.” He then takes a deep breath, speaking to her from the heart. “I’m not really sure, but what I do know is that Damien was an asshole who never deserved you in the first place. You’re better off without him.”

It’s the god’s honest truth. Ri is like his little sister, and it pained him to see her give someone like Damien the time of day, but he also respects that while he still sees her as a little kid, she isn’t. She’s a legal adult capable of making her own decisions, and he respects that.

“He had pretty eyes though.” Joe gives her a look, and for the first time, she actually, truly laughs. It’s music to his ears. “What? If I don’t laugh, I’ll just keep crying.” Her eyes light up with something other than sadness, and he watches her pull out her phone, suddenly typing away.

He doesn’t even need to ask. He’s seen this before. She’s inspired and is getting out the lyrics before they escape her. And a few minutes later, she reads to him what she’s come up with.

If I don't laugh, I'm gonna cry

Don't wanna hear your name tonight

I'm finally happy, not in the mood

I don't wanna think about you

“I like it.” It’s the truth. He likes most of what she writes, outside of the shit that’s way too girly for his musical preference.

She offers him that brilliant smile, eyes twinkling with something similar to appreciation. Mariella grabs his bicep, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Joe.”

He looks down at her. “I’ve always got your back, Mariella.” And that’s a promise. “Always.”

—-------

“Mariella, this is fucking ridiculous.” Joe pulls the phone away from his face to get a specific, accurate time. “It’s almost 3 o’clock in the damn morning. Get home now before something happens to your ass.”

He then quickly jabs the red end button. It’s an unkind voicemail message to leave, but also one of several he’s left over the past two hours. The first was a lot more understanding, almost apologetic. Now he’s just fucking annoyed, because she said she needed air. He figured she’d go sit outside, on the patio, maybe even sit poolside.

Not for her to take off for a late night car ride without telling him anything. It’s something she used to do once upon a time, when they were both broke nobodies trying to keep the dream alive.

Such a far off, distant memory.

Joe wishes he didn’t care. Wishes he could head to bed and let her be in her feelings. He’s got an afternoon flight out to a taping and needs to be at the airport by 10am. At this rate, he’s not going to get any quality sleep, and that shit annoys him to no end because he likes to be well rested for work. Especially in his line of work.

Sleep deprivation can make a wrestler more prone to unnecessary injuries.

Still, he also knows that even if he were to try to get some sleep, he’d twist and turn the whole night. He’s never been able to sleep well until she was home and safe.

But, she’s not, and that shit just pisses him off all over again. He grabs his phone, ready for yet another call to go straight to voicemail when it lights up, generic ringtone filling the sizable kitchen. He doesn’t even bother checking the caller, just hits the green button and jumps right into questioning.

“Where the hell are you?” At this point, he’ll go pick her up his damn self just to see her two feet planted in their LA mansion. “This isn’t—”

“I’m sorry—” Joe is the one who’s sorry because that certainly isn’t Mariella. Confused, he pulls the phone away from his ear again to see that it’s an unfamiliar local number. Bringing it back so he can ask who the hell this is, the caller beats him to it. “I’m looking for Joe Anoa’i.”

The woman’s voice is professional, but there’s also a hesitation there. A hint of emotionality almost.

Frowning, he answers, gruffly, “This is Joe.” He’s quick with the follow up. “Who is this?”

“My name is Leslie Owens, and I’m an officer with the Los Angeles Police Department.” And just like that, Joe knows his entire world is about to be flipped upside down. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your wife has been involved in a car accident….”

—-------

2013

“Just a couple more steps….”

“Ri, this is stupid. I’m gonna open my eyes.”

He can hear her dramatic gasp as she squeezes his hand. “Don’t you dare ruin this moment for us, sir!”

“The moment’s gonna be really ruined if your accident prone ass makes me fall down these damn steps.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m only accident prone when it comes to myself. Not others.” She sounds so proud of this fact too. “Thank you very much.”

She makes him smile, but that’s a given. There’s always an immense amount of joy and contentment when he’s around her. Her positivity, while excessive at times, is calming. Always has been.

He’s happy when he’s at least done with the steps and on a leveled surface. Recovery from face planting on pavement has to be easier than a tumble down three flights of steps.

That reminds him. “This place doesn’t have an elevator?”

She’s quick with the answer followed by the jangling of keys. “Naw. That was the other place, but it was out of our budget.”

He says nothing. It seems like a lot is out of their budget these days.

Joe can hear her insert the key as well as the turn of the door knob and subsequent creaking of a door. She’s pulling him forward and he naturally steps over the mantle that she surely would have let him trip over because of her obliviousness in the moment.

It’s when she drops his hand that he knows the end of this unnecessary dramatic introduction to seeing the apartment for the first time is nearing an end.

“And…..open!”

Joe doesn’t need to be told twice.

The first thing he sees is her beautiful smile as she stands before him with her arms stretched up and in a ‘v.’ “Welcome to our first place together as husband and wife!”

Looking around, it’s clear as day that Mariella is probably the nicest thing in his line of vision. It’s not a bad looking apartment, at all, just plain and clearly in need of some modernizing updates/renovations.

He can tell she’s tried to make it a little more homey with the rug and curtains, as well as family photos, but it’s still a far cry from the kind of place he’d love for them to call home.

“It’s….something.”

Mariella rolls her eyes. “I mean, it’s not the Hilton, but it’s ours, and that’s all that matters.” She moves over to him, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands plant on her hips, holding her to him. “Sure, the balcony is basically a ledge, and our view is of a park, so it gets loud sometimes, and I may or may not have witnessed a crime the other day……hope he’s alright.” Her brows cave together in brief confusion before she shrugs and back to smiling like they just won a million dollars. “But that’s besides the point because every couple has their struggle origin story. This is just ours for now.”

He’ll be happy when they’re out of this chapter of said story. This is one of those times he somewhat wishes he waited to marry her until they were both in better financial places. More him than her. She deserves so much better than this. She deserves the world, and he’s going to give it to her one day.

He just prays that day is sooner rather than later.

“Hey.” He looks down and refocuses his attention on her. “As long as I have you….I’m good.” She moves to lay her head against his chest, murmuring, “I love you, and you love me. That’s all I’ll ever need.” And in true Ri fashion, she gasps and pulls away, looking up with almost childlike excitement. “I almost forgot!”

In many years of knowing Mariella, Joe has learned it’s always best to just let her do her thing and see what happens versus trying to navigate the eccentric workings of her chaotic mind.

So he watches silently as she rushes over to the counter to dig through her purse and pulls out her phone. She does that rapid tapping and sliding of her fingers that she does when in a self assigned rush. Less than a minute later, he’s hit with an all too familiar opening piano followed by even more familiar lyrics.

It's undeniable

That we should be together

It's unbelievable

How I used to say, that I'd fall never

Joe smiles as she moves her way back over to him, reaching for his hand. “Our wedding first dance song to christen our first place together. We have to dance. It’s literally in the marriage rule book.”

He chuckles. “Oh, really?”

“Duh.” She gasps and bites down on her bottom lip when he quickly yanks her toward him. Joe’s hand is on the small of her back as hers move up his check, locking behind his neck. “See….not so bad after all?”

He dances with her, but his attention is focused less on the music, even the dancing and just her. “Anything’s better if you’re there.” She beams up at him and giggles as he spins her so that her back lands against his chin. His head dips into her neck, as she places her hands on his forearms.

He’s taking her in, enjoying this moment with her when she says leadingly, “you know there’s another first we haven’t done yet to christen our place…..”

Joe makes a sound and presses a kiss to the side of her neck. “Hmm. And what is that?”

He can only imagine the way her cheeks must be tinged red as she answers almost as if she doesn’t want anyone to overhear. “That thing you’re really good at.” He smiles against her skin and holds her tighter. “I especially like when you do that one thing with your tongue and—Joe!” Too much talk, not enough clothes being taken off. He doesn’t hesitate to lift her over his shoulder, eager to show her just how much he also likes to do that ‘one thing’ with his tongue.

—-------

Present

Two weeks.

Two weeks since he’s seen her big, beautiful smile.

Two weeks since he’s heard that infectious laugh.

Two weeks since he’s heard her voice.

Two weeks since the night that changed everything, the night that some idiot decided to drive drunk and crashed into her vehicle head on.

Two weeks since she was airlifted to a Level 1 trauma center where her injuries were so severe that they immediately took her into surgery that saved her life in one way but couldn’t in another.

Because she has yet to wake up from the initial accident.

Because it’s been two weeks since Mariella slipped into a coma.

It’s been two weeks of that cruel waiting game, that slight smudge of hope that rises where the doctor comes in with just as much desire it’ll be a different prognosis only for the same thing to leave his mouth every time with that same disappointed expression.

“We just have to continue to wait.”

Joe isn’t sure he’s ever hated a saying more than he now hates that one.

Just like her mom and other family members, he's been at the hospital every day, just sitting for hours at her bedside, holding her hand that’s much colder than he’s used to. Than it should be.

The room is silent, a type of silence he’s unused to. There’s never silence when Mariella is around. She’s always talking, always smiling, always laughing.

But not anymore.

Now she just lays there, unconscious, Joe praying more than he ever has in his entire life that he gets to see her pretty eyes yet again, hear her beautiful voice scream at him, sing to him, laugh at him, anything.

He just needs her.

The love and support from her fans has been astounding yet expected. She’s America’s Sweetheart. Music’s new queen. Everyone loves her. She’s received an endless amount of support, kind words, prayers, and well wishes from both fellow artists and fans. Though the fans seemed to have done the most. Even holding several vigils outside the hospital. And though he’s still pissed that piece of information got leaked, he knows she would be so moved by the love.

Joe wasn’t entirely in agreement with sharing Mariella’s coma status with the world, but it was the decision that was eventually settled on by Iris, her manager, and the rest of her team with the family’s eventual blessing.

The specifics regarding her injuries, however, have remained confidential, and for that, he’s grateful.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed yet again, taking over the shift from April, Mariella’s mom, whose devastated expression hasn’t changed from the minute he had to tell her and the rest of her family what happened to now, as they all wait with all of the hopes and prayers in the world for the prognosis to change.

“This is the longest I’ve ever gone without hearing your voice.” Just saying it aloud feels strange, wrong even. That he gets to sit here and talk while she lays there, plugged up to a million machines, deprived of even that basic right. “I never knew I could miss something so much until now.”

And it’s the truth.

Realizing his NFL dreams weren’t going to become a reality was devastating, but this….this is another level of hell.

“You said…you said you want me to love you again, but….but I can’t do that, Ri.” His hand is over hers, thumb rubbing the skin that’s not covered by the IV and large bandage. “I can’t do it again because I never stopped loving you in the first place.”

It’s a disgusting, pathetic feeling. To know that the words he should have said to her when everything first started falling apart can only leave his mouth after something like this occurs. After he’s so brutally reminded of the fragility of life and the importance of telling people how you feel when they’re still around.

There’s so much he needs to tell her, so much he needs to clear up, so much he needs her to tell him.

She deserves clarification.

He deserves answers.

Joe just prays he gets the chance for that to happen.

It’s nearly seconds after that thought crosses his mind that he feels movement under his hand. His eyes snap up to see the one thing he’s prayed for every day for the past two weeks, the one thing he deep down was scared he would never see.

Mari’s brown eyes. Glossed and confused as all the outdoors, he sees them darting all around the room and feels her trying to move her hand.

He’s not sure he’s even breathing anymore. “Ri?” It’s as she continues to blink and try to move her head that he realizes this isn’t some cruel hallucination. She’s awake.

Mariella is awake.

When the shock wears off, he all but runs to the door, ripping it open as he calls for the doctor, the nurse, any medical professional available to tend to her.

Joe is right on the doctor’s heels as he moves quickly to her bedside, digging for something out of his white coat pocket. Joe moves to the other side of her bed, closely observing any and all interactions of both.

“Mariella, I’m Dr. Reynolds, and I’ve been overseeing your care here.” Joe then looks back at his wife who seems more awake by the second but still with her mouth turned downward, like she’s lost at what’s happening.

Mariella squints when the doctor shines the light in her eyes, wincing almost, and Joe has to catch himself from telling the doctor to be careful.

“Do you remember what happened?” Dr. Reynolds asks, and Joe watches closely as she looks at him with the same level of confusion. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

His stomach drops when she shakes her head no.

“You were in a car accident.” The doctor’s voice takes on a different tone, something not as optimistic, more….ominous. “Can you give me your full name?”

Again, a slow shake of the head to answer no.

Joe goes to ask the doctor what’s going on, if this is some side effect that people can have when waking up from a coma, but the man is pointing in Joe’s direction as he asks a final question. “Do you know who this is?”

And it’s then, as she shakes her head ‘no’ yet again that Joe realizes what’s happening. A new kind of ruination overcomes him, making his throat suddenly feel almost as heavy as his heart.

It’s a heartbreaking realization that he has to say aloud because it feels almost too unreal to be true.

“Her memories are gone….”

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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kleine-joost · 25 days

Text

After Midnight 18+ MDNI

Joost Klein x AFAB Reader

'Cause everything good happens after midnight.

WARNINGS: THIS IS RPF! IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, MOVE ON! drinking, smoking, piv sex, umm yeah

You didn’t go clubbing very often. It just wasn’t really your scene, only when you were begged to tag along by friends on special occasions would you make the effort to get all dolled up and wear one of the three dresses you owned that could pass at club appropriate.

And all of these nights would start out the same, a nightmare. With music too loud, people surrounding you that were too sweaty and apparently had no regard for personal space. But you always obliged in your own personal hell for your friends.

You laughed while you watched your group drunkenly scream the lyrics to The Spice Girls’ Wannabe from your spot against the wall near the dancefloor. They were coaxing you to join them, but you were overly aware of your presence in the club, and you worried about the stares you would get. You knew it was silly, and arguably conceited, to think you would be watched, but you were right.

Joost watched you as you walked in, and when you ordered your first drink–a gin and soda with a splash of lemonade–and then your second. He stood not far from you, waiting for you to finish that glass so he could offer to buy you a third, before anyone else could get the chance. It was like everything stopped when he first saw you, the universe slowed as his eyes scanned your face, your body, and your hands which were shaking with anxiety. He was sure you hadn’t even looked at him yet, if you did he somehow missed it. Maybe this was just one of those moments when the universe dangles an opportunity in your face, only to take it away so it would only exist in some alternate timeline. Like that movie with Gwyneth Paltrow, only hopefully much happier.

You were beginning to feel a buzz that upped your confidence at around halfway through your second drink. When the DJ played Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA you couldn’t help but take the hand of one of your friends as you were dragged into the circle they had all formed in your corner of the floor. Your feet and shins ached as the song finished, and your face was flushed from all the excited jumping you did–which was pretty much the only dance move you could do in the crowded club. With adrenaline, you burst into a fit of laughter while trying to catch your breath and downed the last few fingers of your drink. The lights in the building were beginning to blur, you leant into the comfort of it, and the warmth in your chest from the gin.

Joost was sure this was just about as close as he could get to love without coming across as a total creep. Your smile was so infectious, he couldn’t hear your laugh over the loud music but he was sure it was just as beautiful as the rest of you. His heart felt like it was going into palpitations, he needed a cigarette to calm down.

Your energy was slowly depleting after your brief exertion. You needed a moment to yourself, you told your friends you were going for a smoke–not a regular vice for you but when you drank, the two went one after the other for you. You really didn’t want to have to go and buy a packet of cigs, you never liked to commit to infirmities. You were praying you’d find someone kind enough to lend you a smoke just this once.

The air was cold in the small courtyard, you were surprised you couldn’t see your breath when you let out a long sigh at the heat immediately escaping your body. There were only a few other people outside; a couple in the midst of an argument (from what you could gather she apparently looked at another guy the wrong way and her boyfriend was not happy about it) and a guy, about your age, scrolling on his phone while he smoked. You saw under his heavy jacket he was wearing a white t-shirt that read ‘I ❤️ ABBA’. It made you chuckle just a bit to yourself, you wondered if he went as wild as you did not ten minutes beforehand. The angry couple’s screams were getting louder and louder, so you figured he was your best bet.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you…” He looked up from his phone when you spoke, there was a look you could almost read as surprise in his eyes. Some of the bluest eyes you think you’d ever seen, but maybe it was just the lighting out there. “Could I bum a smoke from you?”

You gave your best kicked puppy smile, well the best you could with the buzz that was now sitting in the base of your neck.

He nodded ardently, and opened the pack in his hand and held it out to you. You took one and placed it between your lips, he was quick to leap off the brick retaining wall he was leaning on to light the cigarette.

Nothing beat that first drag on a night out. You closed your eyes as you felt your bones get lighter. Exhaling, you muttered a ‘thanks’ to the blond stranger.

“No problem,” he smiled.

You stayed standing near him, trying to ignore the argument which was now unravelling into an incident that happened last New Years. You saw the kind stranger’s eyes dart from his phone to you every so often, and back to his phone when he realised you’d caught him. You were sure it was the alcohol that was giving you the confidence.

Eventually the lovebirds took their quarrel back inside, leaving you and the stranger in its wake. You both let out a laugh once you were alone, something about that awkwardness had bonded the two of you. Like the groups of strangers who get stuck in elevators, you imagine.

Through the giggles, you didn’t notice yourself moving closer to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. You weren’t sure if he noticed either, at least until you both calmed down enough to breathe again.

You quickly pondered the options, and that newfound confidence decided to pitch in again. You kept your hand on his arm, leaning against the wall next to him.

“I-I’m Joost,” he stuttered out after a moment.

When you introduced yourself, he repeated your name. Though not to you, more like he was trying out how it sounded in his mouth. It must’ve been good, he hung his arm over your shoulders and brought you closer.

A few people emerged from the dark room for a smoke, and you utilised your new closeness, now more so whispering (well, a loud whisper) in each other's ears while you finished your cigarette.

You asked him about his shirt, he laughed and told you he had no shame in loving Abba. And he asked if you were with friends, and when you said yes he told you he was as well.

Part of you didn’t want to leave his side, you felt so comfortable with him so quickly. But when you heard the start of Americano by Lady Gaga, a bolt of excitement ran through your bones. You frantically stubbed out the rest of your cigarette and grabbed Joost’s hand, pulling him with you to your group of friends who had gotten increasingly messier in the time it took you to smoke. Each of them eyed Joost as you pulled him against your body to dance.

He was nervous, at the very least. At the most, his heart was beating out of his chest and he could barely keep control of his limbs. He could smell your perfume as you moved around him, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

He placed two soft hands on your hips, swaying with you as you both got lost in the music. That was the routine for the next few songs that played.

In lulls, he was introduced to each of your friends, with an explanation of how you had met. One of his hands stayed permanently on the small of your back as you went to the bar to order another drink–which he insisted on paying for. Joost’s friends approached you as you waited for the bartender to make your drink and he was more than happy to introduce you to them all. The feeling of him proudly introducing you, and telling them all about you made you giddy. They were all friendly, and happy to try to embarrass Joost as much as possible by telling you stories from when he was a dumb teenager.

A lively conversation eventually started in the group, and you were missing a lot of the context of the inside jokes being quipped. You could see your friends on the other side of the room, from the looks of it, none of them were far off being ready to leave. You decided to cut your losses and peel off of Joost’s hand and make your way back.

As soon as you took a step away from him, Joost immediately resigned from the conversation and looked at you, worried.

“Where are you going?” He whispered in your ear while you were still just in reach of him.

“I’m going back to my friends,” you answered. “Keep talking, though, have fun!”

He gave you a look that you couldn’t quite read. Maybe confusion? Hurt? Sadness, even? Without another thought he interrupted the story that his friend, Lyon, was telling.

“See you guys later, alright?” He grabbed your hand and said quick goodbyes to all his friends, each of them telling you it was great to meet you.

Only when he was walking you back to our group of friends did you manage to tell him, “you didn’t have to come with me, you could’ve kept talking.”

He hummed in response. “I talk to them all the time, I’d rather be with you.”

You couldn’t hide your smile, you hadn’t ever met someone so sweet. You eyed your friends beginning to all walk with limps, which was the universal symbol for ‘these shoes are making my feet hurt and I need to go home right now’.

“I think we’ll be heading off soon if you want to come with us?” You asked, you knew it was forward but the third drink you’d just downed made it difficult to care.

“Like to your place?” He asked in a gentle voice you could barely hear over the music–if not for the fact that his face was buried deep in your shoulder as you both swayed to the music with his arm over your shoulder.

“Or yours. If you want.” You smiled at him. His eyes softened, and his smile got wider. You felt a burning in your body that could only be read as anticipation of what the rest of the night had in store.

He nodded, nervously. “Yeah, I-I’d like that.”

You liked the idea that you made him nervous. It somehow made you more and more confident the more you saw his face blush when you caught him looking at you, and his indecisive hands placed on your back, your hips, and in yours. Something about him made you want to trust him. Like when he helped all your friends find their purses and phones and whatever else they didn’t want to leave in the club before you all departed, and helped each of you down the steps of the entrance of the old concrete building. He even gave you his jacket when he felt you shiver on the walk to the Avondwinkel down the street, you tried to protest but he was adamant. It smelt like cigarette smoke mixed with some kind of musky cologne, it was comforting.

The inside of the small convenience store was just as packed as the club, full of people buying every snack and drink they could think of. The shop owner was being a good sport about it though, he had some techno pop song you were vaguely familiar with playing over the shop’s speakers and he was talking to every person who approached his counter, asking about their night and making sure they were all okay.

Throughout it all, Joost barely left your side; when you were paying for your packet of gummy worms and bottle of Pepsi, as your group sat on the curb outside for some fresh air, when you called the Uber to your apartment, and in the car on the way there.

In the backseat you tried to focus on anything other than his hand resting heavy on your thigh for fear that you would commit a felony in pouncing on him right there and begging him to have his way with you. It was quite busy on the roads, surprisingly, so it took much longer than expected to get to your little apartment building with its rickety lift that you didn’t dare use, always opting for the stairs.

Your buzz had died down, mostly, now you were just feeling tired. You rested your head on Joost’s shoulder, feeling that flutter inside you that was becoming all too familiar when he laid his head on top of yours. You both were silent, letting the driver continue his phone conversation in a language you couldn’t understand and listening to the faint radio playing some late night discussion show. It all felt so comfortable, like you’d known each other forever and this was just another night. You wondered if it was a fluke or if this was something truly special.

Joost rested his hand on your thigh. It could’ve just been an innocent gesture, but you knew not when you turned your head to be able to look at his face. A grin, but with no eye contact.

Two can play at this game, you thought. You placed your hand on top of his and slid it ever so slightly up the bare skin of your thigh. You heard him try to stifle a gasp, you were winning.

At the next set of lights, he lifted his head and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. You got a tingle through your skin, he was painstakingly close to your lips. His face didn’t move, just apart from yours. All you would need to do is–

Before you could finish your thought, he had leant forward and pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second with the shock of processing what was happening, but quickly shuffled to a more comfortable position for your neck.

The kiss quickly deepened, you opened your lips to let his tongue explore your mouth. You shuffled as close as you could to each other, until there was absolutely no room in between you both and your seatbelts were threatening suffocation.

Joost made you feel lightheaded, you weren’t sure why–or how. It was a blur from the car to your apartment.

Your skin was burning under his touch as he held onto you while you struggled with the sticky lock on your door. Like floodgates, your door opened and the two of you poured into your tiny home.

He kissed you again once you closed the door. This one was…much more tender, like you both suddenly had the realisation that all this lead-up was heading somewhere and it wasn’t just something you could fantasise about later when you were alone and horny. His jacket–which you were still wearing–got pushed off your shoulders and abandoned on the floor while he left wet, hungry kisses across your neck, your shoulder, just at the hem of your low-cut shirt.

A haze came over you as you looked over his body, arms littered with tattoos and chest hair that was just a shade or so darker than the hair on his head. You had the most primal urge to just devour him.

It was a blur, you both hurried to your bedroom in a rush of clothes being torn off your burning, sweating bodies. Your hands began to explore every inch of each other as you made yourself comfortable on your double-sized bed, all that you could fit in the small room.

He hovered over you, holding himself up with one hand next to your head, kissing a gentle line from your lips to your cheek and to your ear.

“Please, Liefje…” He whispered, his warm breath made all the blood rush to your ear–you were sure it had reddened. “Please let me fuck you.”

You practically melted at that. He was still wearing his boxers, you were sure if they had come off in the flurry of clothes he wouldn’t have had to ask. Your hand inched its way closer to his waistband, gently running your fingers over his abdomen. You watched him with unwavering confidence as he shivered at your touch. It only spurred you on further.

Your fingers drifted below the waistband. You slowly, agonisingly ran your hand down the length of his cock. He was already half-hard, though you could barely talk–you’d been feeling that burning ache in your pussy since the car. You could feel his slick precum, making your torture even more excruciating for him.

You watched Joost’s face. His thick-framed glasses had been discarded on your nightstand so you could properly look into his eyes, see his furrowed brows. He let out a small, guttural moan as you ran your hand over his tip. You could feel him growing harder and harder in your hand.

You kissed him again, and whispered to him. “You ready now?”

He nodded urgently, so you released him from your grasp. Part of him felt the excitement of what was next, but he also painfully missed your touch.

“Do you have any rubbers?” He asked.

You shook your head. You didn’t do this sort of thing very often, you just didn’t have the need for them.

“I have one in my wallet.” He sprung up from his spot on your bed and stumbled out of the room to retrieve his pants that were left in the hallway.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to return, metallic wrapper in hand.

“Wishful thinking or are you just very confident?” You asked, a smirk across your face.

He scoffed as he flopped back next to you. “Just well prepared, Liefje.”

Joost quickly discarded his boxers and rolled the condom on. Finally, as the tip of his cock rubbed against the slick of your core, you let out a rasping moan that only dragged on as he slowly slid into.

He was bigger than you were used to, but the pressure was sort of comforting, in a way. He waited a moment to let you adjust, your breathing deepened as he placed two soft kisses on your cheeks. You were burning for him. You gave him the green light to start moving.

He started slowly, easing you both into it. But when he heard the soft mewls coming from you with each thrust, he couldn’t help but thrust faster and faster.

Soon the room was a cacophony of both your moans and the sound of skin on skin. Joost’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, you felt every sticky breath he let out as a sheen of sweat collected on your bodies.

He could have been fucking you for hours, you wouldn’t know–each thrust, each slam into you felt like an eternity. You could feel your core begin to tighten, on instinct you reached to your clit, gently massaging it.

You heard Joost tut at you when he saw what you were doing. He grabbed your wrist and halted your movement. “Let me, Baby.”

It felt like electricity coursing through your veins with Joost’s fingers rubbing your clit and his thrusts hitting deeper and deeper. You were so close to the edge.

“Mmmh… don’t… stop…” You managed to stutter out between moans.

You could tell Joost was close as well. You both carried on, closer and closer…

A rush of cold and warmth and everything in between ran over you as you came. You released an almost primal moan as your body froze in its tracks.

Joost was still slowly thrusting, panting into your neck, his skin growing red from the exertion.

“Keep going,” you mumbled into his ear. “Come for me…please.”

It took only a few more small pumps for a low groan to erupt from his throat, emptying into the condom. You let him breathe for a moment, before placing a gentle hand on the back of his neck and directing him to face you. He had a couple droplets of now-cold sweat on the bridge of his nose, you wiped them off with your other hand, smiling when he let out a light giggle. You simply weren’t expecting a noise like that out of the man who was still inside you.

“You’re incredible, Liefje,” he sighed.You place a gentle kiss on his lips. “And you’re perfect.”

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost fanfic #joost klein smut

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senseofnewness · 1 month

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kink headcanons for art tashi and patrick GO

kink headcanons [nsfw]

tw & cw : cnc, bdsm, anal, unprotected sex

Art

oral : art always has a part of you in his mouth. whether it’s your tits or your fingers. or your cunt. he could spend hours just lapping at your pussy like a starving man. while receiving is always very nice, he just prefers giving. oral sex might be his favorite part of it. he considers it an honor when you allow him to eat you out after a long day of work. you finally get to relax and he finally gets to eat.

cuckolding : art is a bit of a voyeur, and while he’s extremely possessive with you, he also enjoys watching you fucking someone else. what truly turns him on is that they can fuck you as hard as they want, make you see stars and all, you still belong to him at the end of the day. they will never have you. they only can fuck you because he allows it.

lingerie : art loves lingerie. silk, lace, even plain cotton, as long as you’re in it. but the thing is that he doesn’t just like watching you wear lingerie, he also likes wearing it. the sensation of the tight lacy panties constricting around his cock and balls just makes him dizzy. good thing, he’s got a drawer full of them for the both of you to share because he ruins them with every wear, all stretched and worn.

submission : what art loves with submission, it’s surrendering control. he has spent his life letting others decide for him and at first he thought it was because it was easier that way, but he actually enjoy being a puppet. he likes it when you tell him what to do, how to do it and when. he just follows your orders, head empty but balls full.

breeding : he only has one goal : fill you up to the brim. he can’t resist you, your full breast and your wide hips, a body made to carry his offspring. it's animalistic, he just have to come inside you. more than the act itself of breeding you, it’s the whole symbolism that turns him on, you belonging to him, only him. by receiving him, you are committing to him. and so is he. nothing would commit him more to you than being your baby daddy.

Tashi

domination : she’s the type who doesn’t even need to raise her voice, just a look, and you’re on your knees. you’re her precious pet and pets should obey their master. you’re not having sex with tashi, she’s fucking you. you don’t get to participate, you’re here to endure it while she plays with her strap and your tight little cunt. No one allowed you to enjoy it.

edging : tashi has the patience of a saint, and she will have you begging long before she even considers letting you come. she loves watching you squirm. when she knows you’re close, she just teases you until you beg for a release. but she won’t give it to you until she's done herself. good girls come second.

facesitting : you might be the pillow princess of the two, but when tashi sits on her throne, she better get the attention she deserves. she wants you to inhale her scent and get drunk on it while you eat her pussy like it’s the most delicious dish you have ever tasted. she just rides your face like her life depends on it and you should consider yourself lucky if she lets you breathe

roleplay : costumes? check. accents? check. tashi is committed to the whole bit, she even thinks about scenarios beforehand. roleplaying allows her to escape from reality and from the life where she’s forced to play the coach 24/7. you both become someone else and she fucks you like you’re a whole new person she just met each time. she can be a spy, a sergeant, a police officer, a doctor, or a knight. she is everything. just like barbie.

mommy : when tashi says she’s taking care of you, she means every single aspect of your life. she knows you better than you know yourself. and what had started as an innocent dig, “mommy”, had turned into something more. you love the power she has over you, how she takes care of you and all you have to do in exchange is be an obedient little girl. but sometimes mommy gets mad and since she knows you so well, she knows what are the best ways to punish you.

Patrick

barebacking : what are condoms, literally? patrick has never seen one in his whole life. with casual fucks, he uses the good-old pull out method but with girlfriends, he kinda counts on you to take contraception because there is no way in hell that he’s going to wrap it up when nothing makes him harder than the idea of creampie. he knows it’s risky, maybe he had gonorrhea once, and maybe he has unknown children somewhere, but now he’s only having sex with you, he’s not really worried about that.

cnc : after discussing boundaries and agreeing on a safe word beforehand, he just loves taking you wherever, whenever he wants. he just loves watching you struggle under him, when you cry and beg him to leave you alone because it’s not the moment or place for that, when he pretends he's an intruder and he has to tie you up and gag you because you won’t stop screaming. and he knows you love it too because it makes you so wet.

praise : it probably comes from the fact that nobody really considers him except you but patrick loves praises. he needs to hear how good he was, how good he made you feel, that only him can make you feel that way. he needs you to adore him, to worship him. he needs you to be obsessed with him.

anal : don’t date patrick zweig if you don’t want it up the ass. his tongue, his fingers or his cock, it doesn't matter, you're going to get it. he just loves how tight you are in there, and the way you clench so hard around his cock, swallowing him whole, he simply loses his mind.while he appreciates the beauty of breasts, asses are where it's at.

degradation : patrick will break you down and watch you crumble. he is the type of guy who whispers the most degrading stuff in your ear, humiliating you by commenting any of your action in bed like it’s the most obscene thing he has ever seen or heard, making you feel like the dirtiest, most worthless little slut and the worst part is that you will thank him for it.

#patrick zweig #art donaldson #tashi duncan #challengers smut #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fiction #challengers 🎾#challengers #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson smut #tashi duncan smut #ask

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pshcomforts · 2 months

Text

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ | psh.

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you push your friend, sunghoon, on a decision that doesn’t involve you, afraid to hurt him with your need to leave before the other does.

: ̗̀➛ warnings/content: written in third pov. angst. no fluff. arguing. reader has issues and can’t commit (lol). not proofread.

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.5k

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

“hoon…,” y/n quietly mumbled in shock.

“may i come in?” sunghoon’s cold voice spoke, standing tall near the door frame with softened eyes.

“uh.. yeah, sure.” she gestured her hand, allowing him in.

the boy entered in, chest heaving up and down with nervous butterflies.

“so.. why’d you come here?” the girl asked, feeling her heavy heart weigh down.

he didn’t say anything for the first few seconds, letting silence fill the room. “hoon?” she called as she watched him become hesitant.

“are we okay, y/n?”

“w..what?” she stuttered, taken aback by his questioning. “yeah, hoon. we are.”

“if we are, then why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

y/n instantly paused when she felt her heart drop at the words. was she hearing that right?

“what?? how do you know? i mean-“

“jake blurted it out after you left. why didn’t you tell me, y/n?”

sunghoon’s tone became firm with a demand for an answer, and it made her slightly nervous.

“did i really need to? you were obviously gonna get with her.” she tried to joke with a half smile, careful to not forget how jake let such a thing slip by his lips.

the male huffed out a cold and annoyed sigh, hinting that the attempt to lighten the mood was something unnecessary.

“you don’t know that, y/n.” he stiffly said.

his withdrawal of emotions voiced his seriousness, causing the girl to mirror his mannerism.

“yes i do hoon, you and her are meant to be,”—her tone becoming more solemn within each second.

“what about us?” he almost whispered. his eyes stared into hers as her heart burned with pain.

she let out a soft scoff after feeling the tightness in her chest twist. “us?” she fought back a cry in her eyes—“there’s no us if you like someone else.”

sunghoon didn’t respond, at least not right away. he had to pause for a second. “i like you,” he choked out. “i’ve always liked you.”

y/n pressed her lips into a line, shaking her head as she chuckled. “yeah, and i know you like her too.” she shook her head again, this time in hopes of brushing the heart ache away. she looked at the older male again, noticing his cold demeanor slowly melt away.

“i’ve been in love with you longer.” hoon breathed heavily after exhaling the truth out. “you’re the one i always come back to even if i try to get over you.”

tears bled down her cheeks now, staining them with an aching memory she wouldn’t forget.

she inhaled a breath of air, feeling her breath hitch as she turned away from him. “no sunghoon, don’t do this. i don’t want you to end up with me.” her heart shattered at her own words, feeling his heart break too with his next sentence.

“why?” he murmured.

the boy attempted to step closer to her—“because..,”

but with everything happening in the moment, she had to stop him with a hand raise. “.. i don’t want to wait to be someone’s second choice, and if you really wanted me then you wouldn’t even be considering someone else right now.”

sunghoon blinked. his mouth gaped open to say something but he closed it, and dropped his head down.

“y/n…, i love you.”

her face scrunched at the confession. she bit her lips as she let more tears drop. “then why is it so hard for you to decide, sunghoon?” her lips tried to curl into a smile but it only turned into a sad attempt to look okay.

his brows furrowed at the sight. “i just..” he stopped for a second to watch her distantly smile again in pain—“.. don’t want to lose you if we were to break up.”

she fought back the urge to cry and breakdown in front of him as it weighed on her heart. “we won’t because we’re not getting together. you belong with her,” she affirmed with a fake grin.

irritation slowly filled the male with the constant denials from her, and those last words had gotten to him.

he locked eyes with her, narrowing them almost as he harshly said, “and who are you to make that decision for me?”

his infuriating change was inevitable to y/n.

the way he went back to being cold and bitter caused the girl to be annoyed with the question asked. “sunghoon please.., she’s the obvious choice. i’m pushing you towards her.” she closed her eyes to avoid them being seen rolled.

a scoff slipped by his lips. “i don’t want her, i want you. why can’t you see that?” he seemed to be speaking the truth but his anger darted towards something else in her eyes.

“no, you don’t, sunghoon.” she emphasized each word with a grit in her teeth.

hoon scoffed again. his corner lips were slightly curled as he shook his head, almost in disappointment. “why do you do this, y/n?” she opened her mouth to question but he cut her off—“why do you keep pushing me away?”

“i’m not pushing you away…,”

the girls brows furrowed as she watched his tense body soften.

he took in a particularly harsh gulp—“you are and it hurts,” he said with a heavy breath. his eyes lingered on hers, like he was searching for the answer she couldn’t say aloud.

y/n broke away the eye contact once she felt her heart become burden in a rush of adrenaline. her lips trembled when his hands touched her cheek, cold and yet comforting.

“i’m sorry hoon…,” she swallowed her guilt. “but everybody leaves in the end, and it’s only a matter of time that you’ll leave me too.”

their faces were so close in the moment. the desire to just kiss the stress away was strong for the both of them. she felt his hot breath hit her face as he closely watched her in admiration.

“i’d never leave you.” the male breathed, almost whispering it in her ears.

that four-lettered sentence was like a reality check for her. even if it sent shivers down her spine, it was still something that made her realize why she was pushing him away.

she backed away from his longing touch of skinship. “i’ve heard enough of that to know.”

she took a pause in her voice when she saw the look of betrayal in his eyes. he was hurt that she pulled away before their lips could meet.

“and i’m not willing to hurt you if i push you away during the relationship.”

“so you’re gonna push me away now?” his tone was familiar with a cold and mean energy while his eyes spoke otherwise, glossed with tears.

she felt her lips tremble again. “yeah.. it’ll hurt less for us both.” her voice cracked but she didn’t even notice it with all of her attention on the saddened boy.

“you’re not even gonna give us a chance?” sunghoon asked with a slight eyebrow raise. he stepped closer to her and she allowed it—both just wanting to be in a reassuring hold that wasn’t real.

y/n softly shook her head as tears continued running down her cheeks. “no.. i don’t want to hurt you more than i already have, and i don’t want to ruin what we have as friends either.”

his tears had fallen down now with her words ringing in his ears. “it was already ruined when i fell in love with you.” he swallowed down cries in his throat as he felt his heart pounding loudly.

the girl bit her lips, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away to avoid letting him see her cry from his words. her chest tightened when she confirmed what’d be the end of them.

“then fall out of it because this isn’t happening.”

her words were cruel and mean, and she knew it wasn’t her but she had to push him away. hurting him here was better than hurting him when they were somewhere further than this.

sunghoon was undoubtedly wounded with the echoing words that remained in his ears, but he attempted to not show it.

“fine, but just know that i would’ve stayed, y/n. i would’ve never thought twice to leave someone special like you.”

“i’m sorry, sunghoon… i know who i am in a relationship, and i don’t want to push you away if we get together.”

he sighed, breath hitching with a soft head shake. “i was willing to fight through that for you, for us.”

y/n’s lips gently curled as she smiled through her tears, attempting reassurance in her expression. “she’ll make you happy, hoon, not me.” she mumbled, voice cracking with her clawing heart that stopped calling for him.

his brows slightly furrowed at her words and his lips trembled at their ending. he wanted her, but she couldn’t see that through her fear of trust.

“goodbye, y/n.”

sunghoon left before she could say her goodbye, walking out of what’d determine the end for them.

she crouched down to herself, tears flowing and heart aching at how things were left. her hand held onto her chest, clenching onto the tightened pain that spread through her body.

pushing him toward the other girl was what’d make them both happy in the end. she’d patch up what y/n broke.

“goodbye, sunghoon.”

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

202 notes · View notes

sara-scribbles · 6 months

Text

Melting the Dragon King's Heart (Part 3)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/F!Reader Summary: After falling down some stairs, you wake up in the body of a villain from one of Idia's cheesy romance books. Destined to die a fiery death, you have to figure out a way to change your fate. Word Count: 7,661 Notes: Hey all, sorry for being off the grid for so long! I've been busy and haven't had much time to do anything besides study. But we're finally at the end! I hope everyone enjoyed the story! It was a lot of fun to try my hand at writing this. Malleus is a fun character to write for.

I might have some more isekai/regression/reincarnation stories for Leona and Jamil. It's something I've been thinking about but haven't fully committed. Let me know if these ideas sound interesting and you'd like me to write on them.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, attempted murder, actual murder, death

Despite being in the library often, it’s always a little daunting when you first step in. There are plenty of staff to help, but shelves upon shelves of texts are still a bit much. A lot of the texts near the back are quite old. A lot of them have to be handled with care or they might just fall apart.

After asking for books on enchanted weapons, with a strange look from the librarian, you sit down and try your best to go through as much as possible. After a few hours of no success, you feel a headache coming on. Leaning back, you let out a deep, tired breath. There are plenty of enchanted weapons, some real and some just legend, but there’s nothing about the specific weapon you’re looking for.

In the story, the dagger is described as being crimson with an obsidian handle. It was originally a sword blessed by a group of fairies to take down a corrupted dragon. However, once the blade had been dipped in the ancient dragon’s blood, the blessing turned into a curse. Somehow the sword was broken but enough remained to create a dagger.

Any cut made by the blade could not be healed. No magic, no potion, no artifact could stop the bleeding. The wounded person would bleed to death. If the person was lucky, they could die in a matter of seconds. Those not so lucky would have an agonizingly slow death. Even if they were to cauterize the wound, the bleeding would continue. It would only stop once the wounded died.

“Very grim,” you mutter under your breath. For such a light hearted novel, the curse of the blade was surprising. However, it’s never used since the main protagonist is able to get it.

“Your highness, is everything alright?” the royal librarian.

Sitting up straight, you clear your throat. “I don’t think I’ll be able to find what I’m looking for. Could you put these back?” You close the book with a thump.

“Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.” Deciding to head back to your office, you leave the library. By now you know how to navigate your way through the castle.

Your feet move on autopilot as your mind wanders. There must be something you can do. The only other thing you can think of is returning home to see if they’ve found the cursed dagger. Of course this would require you to figure out the relative time frame of when Yūki meets Malleus to when it's found. However, you’re unsure if following the story timeline would even be helpful with how different everything is now.

Arriving back at your office, you eye the stack of documents still left for your review. Plopping down onto the chair unceremoniously, you rub your eyes. Instead of doing the work on your desk, you find the previous book you had been reading. You never thought books about laws would be interesting, but Briar Valley has some strange laws that make reading about them fascinating.

As you flip to the bookmark, you note with some irony that the next chapter is on divorce. Perhaps when your plan had been to divorce Malleus, this would have been helpful. Though, still curious, you decide to read it. Everything about Briar Valley’s laws are complicated, though maybe not as complicated as the Queendom of Roses. There are separate laws for fae, humans, and fae-human issues.

You skip to the section on fae-human divorce since that would apply to you. “ ‘Depending on whether the parties have participated in the soul ceremony, divorce can be rather difficult though not impossible.’ What’s a soul ceremony?”

Before you can continue, Diablo knocks on the door. “Your grace, lunch is being served.” You quickly close the book before following him.

---

You’re silently reading in bed while Malleus goes through some documents. The times he used to come to your room to “hold your hand” has extended to almost every night. Instead of holding your hand, you both comfortably sit in your bed either talking or reading.

Malleus still returns to his room once it’s time for bed. You almost asked him if he wanted to stay the previous night, but you lost your nerves. There’s something very different from just reading in bed to actually sleeping next to him. You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with him, but it’s almost been an entire year of marriage and you haven’t once slept in the same bed, so you’re unsure about how to bring it up.

Malleus shuffles his papers with a deep sigh. Glancing over at him, he rubs the bridge of his nose while muttering to himself. “Something wrong?” you ask.

He sets the papers aside on the bedside table. “Nothing really. Just that grandmother will be visiting soon. And she’s already placed certain…demands on me.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “She is?!” You had only met her a handful of times. Yet, in those few formal visits, all you can recall is how intimidating both in magic and overall presence she is.

Chuckling, the fae reaches out and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry, my heart. I’ll take care of all the preparations.”

Book forgotten, you turn to him. “What did she ask for?”

“She wants her favorite room overlooking the gardens. She, of course, expects to have dinner with both of us. And a few other things about her daily walks around Briar Valley that I’m sure Diablo can take care of,” he answers, ticking off each one on his fingers.

Fiddling with the sheets, you ask, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm… She didn’t say anything in her letters. But I’m sure she’ll let you know if she wants anything.” His gaze flickers over to the book in your lap.

“I should do something for her. Since it’s been awhile, maybe I can get her some flowers. Or maybe plan an outing? Do you think she’d want to have tea in the gardens? Or maybe…” As you ramble, Malleus takes the book from your lap.

He nods occasionally while he skims the page. His lips press together in a thin line. Brows furrowing, his eyes narrow. You pause when you finally notice he’s not listening. “Malleus?”

Turning away from the book, he asks in a serious tone, “Did I do something wrong?”

Blinking owlishly, you cycle back to the conversation. Yet, nothing comes to mind about what he is referring to. “What are you talking about?”

He gestures to the book. “You’re reading about divorce in regards to fae-human relationships. Did I do something wrong to make you consider divorce?” Though his tone is even, the stormy look in his eyes say otherwise. There’s a flash of lighting outside the window.

Ignoring the sudden change in weather, you shake your head. “I’m not planning to divorce you, Malleus.”

His shoulders relax and his gaze clears. “I see…”

Taking the book away from him, you set it aside. “I’ll tell you the truth. I may have considered divorce at the start of our marriage because I didn’t want you to be unhappy.” ‘I also didn’t want to die’ you add silently. “But I realized that it would be unfair to ask for divorce based on a few months together. And it would be selfish of me to not consider your own feelings.”

“If you aren’t happy here, I’d be fine with a divorce,” he says, his voice strained. “I want you to be happy.”

Leaning against his shoulder, you hum in agreement. “I am happy. And you’re happy too, right?”

“Of course,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Except the fact your parents possibly have a weapon that could kill him.

He wraps his arm around your middle, dragging you closer to his side so your head rests against his chest. He leans back against the pillows. You can hear the steady beating of his heart. A comfortable silence falls and you're almost lulled to sleep. The thought of sharing a room pops into your head once more.

“Hey, do you want to share a room?” you inquire, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

Malleus straightens up, which startles your comfortable position. “You wish to share a room?” His eyes are wide.

Sitting up, you find yourself picking at the sheets again. “Well, you basically come here every night, so that would be the most logical thing to do. And we are married, so it wouldn’t be strange if we decided to sleep in the same room.”

Shuffling out of bed, Malleus puts on his dragon slippers. “I will let Diablo know at once to prepare the master bedroom,” he says hurriedly.

“M-Mallues?” He has already gathered his papers and is about to head out before he stops halfway.

He walks back over to you. With a large grin, he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I almost forgot, my heart. Good night.” Eyes twinkling, he leaves without another word.

Your mouth hangs open for a bit before you snap it closed with a click.

---

In less than a day, your new bedroom is ready. Diablo has your things moved in while you're working. The old butler seems at ease and comments how Malleus is in a wonderful mood. Everyone you pass by smiles brightly at you. You’re almost embarrassed at the fact that it seems everyone knows why he’s in a good mood. But, it’s honestly adorable.

There is a nervous feeling that settles in your stomach as you think about the logistics of sharing a room. For one, you have to share a bathroom, which isn’t much of an issue considering how massive the bathrooms are. The only thing you’re concerned about is possibly being walked in on while changing. It isn’t like you haven’t seen another naked person, but you’re self conscious about the scars on your back.

No one, besides your parents and the few people who treated you on occasion when you were unable to, knows about the scars. They’re all thin and straight, but there are so many. They crisscross from the top of your back to the small of your back. Some are very old while others are only about a year old.

You recall the faces of the few doctors who had seen the scars. Looks of shock and pity aren’t uncommon. One, you recall vividly, did not react at all, but you could see the way her hands shook. Yet, none dared to ask where the marks came from nor did they ever say anything to your parents. They valued their lives far more.

How could you blame them?

Shaking your head to clear out the bad thoughts, you decide you’ll figure out what to do when the time comes. For now, you have to decide what to do with two unexpected visitors.

There had been a commotion at the palace gates that Diablo had come to you about this morning. When you heard what happened, you immediately went to meet them. Now in the drawing room, Yūki sits across from you looking sheepish. Grim happily munches on the food offered by Diablo.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you start. It’s true since Yūki and Grim are not supposed to come for another two months. It’s just another indication that the story is completely different.

Yūki sighs. “Grim kept nagging about wanting to visit. When he wants to do something, he typically won’t change his mind. I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced.”

You wave off their apology. “It’s fine. I just wanted to be able to prepare for your visit more. Diablo can prepare a guest room. It’s a little busy here because Malleus’s grandmother is visiting soon.” you explain.

“Should we leave? I don’t want to be intruding…” Grim doesn’t seem bothered as he downs a cup of tea. Diablo pours him a refill without missing a beat.

“No, it’s fine. She’s not supposed to be here for another month. So, how are your travels?” you ask, changing the subject.

They seem to relax a bit. “It’s great! We went to visit the Scalding Sands before coming here. We even got to ride a magic carpet!” Their eyes light up as they talk about their newest adventure.

You wonder how they felt in the original novel when they had to stay in Briar Valley at the end. The author didn’t mention much about what happened except that Yūki went on to rule alongside Malleus. It was implied that they never left Briar Valley. Could someone who loved traveling so much really be happy staying in one place?

At some point in the conversation Malleus comes in. He pauses when his gaze lands on Yūki. You watch as he regards them curiously. Yet, it’s only a brief pause before he turns to you to ask you a few questions about a document. He leaves right after without a second look.

A part of you is a little disappointed at the underwhelming moment of their first meeting. However, another part is happy that there isn’t some kind of instant connection between the two. You’re selfish.

“He’s scary,” Grim mutters once Malleus is gone.

“Grim!” Yūki looks at you apologetically.

“What?! I’m just telling the truth! The magic rolling off of him is intense!” The cat waves his paws around. “It’s suffocating! You might not be able to feel it henchhuman, but I can tell!”

“It’s alright. Malleus can seem rather intimidating, but he really isn’t. I promise he’s a gentle, kind soul,” you assure them with a laugh.

Yūki relaxes once more. “He obviously loves you very much,” they state while chewing on a macaron. You face warms. “He only has eyes for you,” they continue “and it seems the feelings are mutual…” A single eyebrow goes up.

Trying to hide your embarrassment, you take a long sip of tea. Clearing your throat, you can’t meet their amused eyes. “Well…yes, they are,” you say in a soft tone. You can’t lie about your feelings. “He has a good heart. We started off rocky, but we’re in a good place now.”

Yūki and Grim both glance at each other. You realize you’re probably smiling like a fool and quickly school your features as best as you can. You steer the conversation to a different topic.

Later, Diablo shows them to the guest room and you head back to your office. There’s still paperwork you need to finish. On your desk is some mail with many of them being letters from other foreign dignitaries. However, one letter causes your blood to run cold. You know that sharp but elegant script as you know the scars on your back.

Rarely have your parents sent letters. Slipping the letter opener under the envelope, you’re almost tempted to burn the letter without looking. But the fact that they sent a letter must mean something important. It’s only a single sheet with only three sentences. You blink a few times before setting down the paper. The page blurs as you feel your chest pounding and a distant, high pitched noise fills your ears.

Dearest child,

Your mother has passed. Come home so our country may mourn her. The funeral will be tomorrow.

Father

Before you can fully realize anything, the door to your office opens. Malleus steps inside with a concerned look in his gaze while holding a piece of paper. Breaking out of your daze, you zero in on the paper in his hand. It’s the same sharp writing. There’s nowhere to hide.

“My heart, I am so sorry,” he says, gently setting down the letter. You can see that your father wrote more to him in the letter. “Are you okay?”

He reaches out but pauses when he notices the look in your eyes. There’s a long pause before you find your voice. “I’m fine. Thank you…” You carefully take your own letter and fold it back into the envelope. “I should prepare to return…” you whisper.

Malleus gently takes your hand in his. “Take all the time you need. I know the mourning process can take time.”

Your heart aches at his kindness. But how can you tell him that you don’t want to go back? That you’re terrified of returning to a place that only holds bad memories? Malleus lost his parents, so he’s no stranger to loss. But you hold no sympathy for the woman who called herself your mother.

“I’ll inform Diablo. Finish up what you need here.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving to find the old butler.

You stand there for a moment. Your heavy breathing is the only sound that you can hear. You stumble your way out of the study. As everything fades in the background, childhood memories come back. Memories of a younger version huddling on the bed, knees draw close to her chest. Always shaking but never crying because it would only lead to further punishment.

A voice calls out as you stumble and fall forward. You hit the ground face first but you don’t register the impact. A hand comes into your lines of vision and you instinctively jerk away.

“Don’t…” you cry out weakly.

Suddenly Yūki’s face appeared into your field of vision. They say something but you don’t really hear. They move away for a bit and return with some water. They press the cup into your hands. They place a gentle hand on your back while rubbing slow circles. Your hands shake as you stare into the cup. As your breathing slows down, the pressure in your chest lessens. After a little longer, you take a slow sip.

“Your highness?” Yūki hesitantly calls to you in a soft tone.

Swallowing, you look around. Somehow, you stumbled your way to Yūki’s guestroom. “I…I’m sorry for barging in on you…” you apologize.

Yūki offers their hand and guides you to a chair. Setting the cup on the table, you sag back into the chair. “Just take your time,” they say, taking a seat as well.

Glancing around, you note that Grim isn’t anywhere to be seen. As if reading your mind, Yūki adds, “Grim went to grab a snack from the kitchen. He probably won’t be back for a while.”

You fiddle with your hands trying to find the words. You’re sure Yūki isn’t the type to gossip, so whatever you tell them would be safe. But should you be dumping your personal problems on someone who you’ve only met a few times?

“I don’t want to burden you with my personal problems…but would you be willing to listen?” The weight of everything has always been there, but you had ignored it. But with the arrival of the letter, you can’t ignore it anymore. Perhaps hearing the advice of someone from the outside would help.

Nodding, Yūki offers an encouraging smile. So you tell them everything. Well almost everything. You tell them about the past, your parents’ plan to take over Briar Valley using your unique magic, the fact that you’ve been lying to Malleus from the beginning, that they may have the one weapon that could kill Malleus. Every word out of your mouth feels like a release. Yūki listens without saying a word and keeping their facial expression straight.

Finally, you finish and it feels like you’ve been speaking for hours. Your throat feels dry, but the weight has been lessened. You wait for Yūki to respond. It’s a lot of information to be telling someone in one sitting.

Clearing their throat, their brows draw together. “Well…sorry but fuck that’s a lot!”

Your eyebrows go up as you stare at each other. Then, you start laughing. You both burst into laughter. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Yūki say something like that. Wiping away stray tears, you shake your head with a smile.

“Sorry for dumping all that on you. I think I just needed to tell someone.” You sigh. “I’ve been holding that in for so long, but it feels good to at least tell someone.”

They wave off your apology. “You’d be surprised how many of my friends I had to play therapist for. It’s nothing new.”

Despite the reassurance, you can see the slight sag in their shoulders. “Still, you shouldn’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m being a hypocrite since I just did the same thing, but I want you to know it’s okay to just turn away if something becomes too much. You don’t have to fix everyone’s problems.”

Looking away, Yūki chuckles softly. “You’re the first person to tell me that… Thank you.”

You want to tell them that you know about the things they have to go through in the story. But don’t because Yūki isn’t a character in Idia’s book. Despite starting out in what you understood to be a story, you’ve come to realize that the people you’ve interacted with are not characters. They’re people with their own emotions and wills.

Breathing in deeply, you flex your hands. “I’m going to tell Malleus everything. I think it’s time he knew the truth, and he can decide for himself what he wants to do.”

“That’s probably for the best. Lying usually ends up biting you in the ass later on.” You both laugh. “He clearly adores you. So, you just need to trust in him to understand.”

“Right.” You offer Yūki a wide smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

---

After a lively dinner thanks to Grim’s antics, you’re getting ready for bed. Malleus is already tucked in reading. Though you plan to tell him everything, you can’t help but move slowly. You had prepared a speech, but now you can’t remember a word.

Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, you regard Malleus. His shoulders are relaxed and his facial expression is almost serene. The stress from hosting his grandmother has all but disappeared. Your heart swells with affection for him. You want to live the rest of your life with him in peace and warmth. And the only way that it can happen is if you tell him the truth. Together you can figure out a way to take care of your parents.

Feeling your gaze, Malleus looks up. “My heart?” His head tilts to the side.

Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders. “Malleus, I need to tell you something.”

He closes the book, giving you his full attention. “Why don’t you come here and we can talk?”

Hesitating, you shake your head. “I want to stand. What I’m going to tell you will be a lot.” He nods.

As you tell him everything about your life and your parents’ plans, he doesn’t react at all. You pour out all your feelings and thoughts. As the words leave your mouth, you feel even lighter. A sense of relief washes over you as you finish. You wait in agonizing silence as Malleus remains quiet. His gaze is distant as he takes in everything.

Finally, he looks at you. He doesn’t say a word as he holds his arms out to you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you walk over to the bed. Climbing in the bed, he wraps his arms around your form and pulls you close to him.

You bury your face in his chest. You can only mutter apologizes as he holds your tight. He doesn’t say anything as you quietly sob. After what feels like an eternity, you seem to run out of tears. Your eyes are sore and puffy.

He kisses the top of your head. “Thank you for telling me the truth. It must have been difficult,” he mumbles. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Ear pressed against his chest, you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was too scared,” you admit. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” He gently wipes away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “However, I am upset. Very much so.”

His green eyes glow dangerously as he glances out the window. Dark clouds roll in and lightning strikes. “Should I go there myself?” he muses.

“Malleus…” Placing a hand against his cheek, you turn his head so he looks at you. “Don’t do anything rash. My father is to blame not the people of my country. You can’t just go in and wipe out the country.”

Frowning, he looks thoughtful before he smiles sharply. “How about I just kill him, my heart. Or I can give you the honor of doing that.”

Leaning against his chest, you shake your head. “He might have that weapon…”

“I’ll squish before he even has a chance to think about using it.”

“This would be considered a criminal act.”

“What your parents did to you and planned to do with me are criminal acts. I’m only ending this before it can lead to something worse.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you smile to yourself as you tighten your hold on Malleus. “Let’s talk about what to do tomorrow. But thank you for offering to help despite everything.”

“Of course. I would do anything for you.”

---

The next day you wake up feeling at peace. Malleus knows the truth and he still cares about you. You don’t have to go back to that place. Stretching, Malleus tightens his hold around your waste.

You still can’t believe that someone as regal as Malleus likes to cuddle. Most mornings you spend a few minutes trying to get out of his hold. He can be rather clingy first thing in the morning. It’s cute.

“We need to get up,” you say, trying to worm your way out of his hold. He hums before releasing you.

Malleus sits up as you find your slippers. You can feel his stare and quickly look up. He’s frowning with his brows pinched together. “What’s wrong?”

“Your scars…I didn’t realize…”

Right, you usually hide them long before he can see them. But last night’s confession had taken a lot out of both of you. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Malleus.”

Eyes narrowing, he shakes his head. “I need to talk to Lilia about what we should do.” He pauses, his brow smooths as he regards you. “Can I tell him everything you told me?”

You hesitate for a second but agree. “Yes. You trust Lilia, so I’ll trust him too.” If you’re going to do this without blowing up an entire country, you’ll need help. And Lilia seems rather level-headed under all the teasing.

Malleus leans over to peck you on the cheek. “I’ll see him now. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m going to head to my office once I check up on Yūki and Grim.” You feel your mouth stretch into a goofy grin as he pulls away. You’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach when he kisses you will never go away.

Once you’re clean and dressed, you make your way to the guest room. Yūki and Grim are already out, though the feline looks half asleep. “Morning, you two.”

Yūki gives a short wave before a yawn overtakes them. They quickly cover their mouth. “Mornin’....”

“It’s too early to be up!” Grim grumbles.

You chuckle as he yawns. “I’m sure the cooks have prepared something tasty for breakfast.”

That perks him up. “What are we standing here for?! Let's go!” He rushes ahead as Yūki follows at a slower pace.

“So… is everything okay?” They give you a sideways glance.

“Yeah. He took it well.” You give a small nod. “Thank you for listening yesterday.”

“Of course.” They offer a reassuring smile. “I was also thinking about what you said yesterday…about not needing to fix everyone’s problems…”

“Yes?”

Chewing on their lower lip, they’re silent as you near the dining room. They relax a bit when Grim turns around to beckon for them to hurry up. “You’re right. I don’t need to fix everyone’s problems. I need to learn when to take a step back and say no. I’m going to work on that. I just wanted to let you know.”

“It might take a bit of practice, but it’s good you’re taking your own feelings and well-being into consideration.” Patting them on the back, you two share a look before they’re pulled away by Grim’s shouting.

A flash near the window catches your eye and your blood runs cold. “Your majesty?” Diablo calls to you, worry etched on his wizened face. He looks out but doesn’t react. “Is something the matter?”

“D-did you see him?” you ask, your hands curl into fists.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I did not see anything. Should I have the guards take a look?”

You pause. You don’t want to cause a scene if it’s nothing. But you also wouldn’t put it past your father to show up uninvited to drag you home. “Yes, have someone take a look. If they find Duke Wynters, please send him away.”

Without further explanation, Diablo leaves. You let out a deep breath. It could just be your own fears playing tricks on you. Joining Grim and Yūki for breakfast, you try your best to forget about it.

However, after breakfast Diablo reports that the guards did not find anyone. Not even a trace of magic. Despite that, you’re still on edge as you head to your office. Hand hovering over the door knob, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Grasping the handle, you throw open the door to your study with a bang.

There’s no one inside. Everything is in its usual place. You let out another deep breath and shake your head. Taking a seat, you take the nearest stack of papers to start work. You throw the stack across the room as if burned.

The letter that you had burned flutters to the floor. You jump up. “Diab-!”

A cold hand clamps down on your arm. “Don’t.” Duke Wynter’s grip is strong despite his age. Old memories hold you in place as fear settles in.

“You know, I was so disappointed when you didn’t come home for your own mother’s funeral. Tsk…” His voice is calm, but you know better.

“H-how did you-” You hate that your voice shakes.

“Get in here? There are things magic artifacts can do that can even trick a mighty dragon.” He snorts. “Now, we’re going home. And I’m sure your dear husband will follow.” He bares his teeth in a ruthless smile.

Duke Wynters pulls a small pocket mirror from his breast pocket. He tosses it out and it expands into a full length mirror. A disembodied face stares back at you. “Take us back home, Mirror,” he orders.

“As you command,” the mirror murmurs. The surface of the mirror ripples and slowly changes until it shows the image of the manor. Gripping your arm tightly, he drags you toward it.

You don’t want to go, but fear grips your body. So, you let your panic swell along with your magic. The room becomes so cold you can see your own breath. Your vision blurs as Duke Wynters screams and something explodes.

Then everything goes black.

---

Malleus sends the doors of the study flying off. The entire study has been destroyed. The windows have been blown out and a thick layer of ice coats everything. His breath comes out in small puffs of fog.

He shouts your name. The frozen chandelier shakes.

Lilia places a hand on his arm. “They’re gone. Most likely back to his home. We need to leave now if we want to catch up to them.”

Turning to Sebek and Silver, Lilia gives them both a hard look. “Malleus and I will go after the queen. You both stay here and make sure everything is okay.”

They both give him a salute. “Please take care, father,” Silver says, forgoing the formalities.

“Stay safe, your majesty!” Sebek bows deeply to Malleus.

The two fae give one last nod before they vanish.

Standing at the entrance to your home, it’s oddly quiet and deserted. Dark, gloomy clouds loom threateningly in the distance. For a brief moment Malleus wishes he could have seen you during your childhood. But that thought quickly fades as he remembers the scars that criss-cross your back. Bitterness fills his mouth and anger boils to the surface.

The front gate is locked, but he simply blows it away with a snap of his fingers. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Lilia gives Malleus a reassuring squeeze. “Everything is going to be okay. But…maybe we shouldn’t destroy everything.”

There’s a beat of silence before Malleus calms himself, though his fists remain clenched. “Let’s head inside.”

They enter the home but there’s still not a soul to be found. There’s an eeriness to the dead silence. Passing rooms, there’s evidence of the occupants hastily leaving. The two fae follow the strong presence of magic. They enter an outdoor courtyard though it looks like it’s seen better days.

There in the middle sits a figure slumped over. Malleus’s eyes widen as he rushes over calling your name. However, he’s stopped by another voice. “I’m so glad you could come, your majesty.” Duke Wynters stands on a balcony that overlooks the courtyard. Malleus notes he seems to favor his left side. Small flecks of ice cling to his tattered coat sleeve.

Clenching his teeth, his hands itch to burn him without thought. But the smug look on the man’s face makes him cautious. He has something up his sleeve if he can confidently speak down to two powerful fae.

“Let her go,” he orders. “And I will make your death a merciful one.”

The duke cackles. He gestures to the still slumped over figure. “Unfortunately, I cannot give you my dear daughter unless you’re willing to make a deal.”

His eyes burn with disgust. “Or I could just kill you right now.”

“You could. But then you’d also be killing her.” Duke Wynters raises both hands and starts moving his fingers. Now, Malleus can see what’s going on. Thin strings of magic are connected to each of the duke’s fingers. And they’re attached to you.

Your body suddenly moves. You jerkily raise your head and stand up. You're holding a dagger in one hand. Like a puppet, you mechanically point the blade at him. The strange crimson metal gleams under the low light. However, Malleus can see the pain and panic in your eyes. Despite your body being controlled, you’re fully conscious of what’s going on.

The duke continues, “You see, my unique magic allows me to control a person’s body like a marionette. However, my life and their life are connected until I end the magic. I believe you’re a smart one, you understand what I’m saying.” He grins sharply.

“What do you want?” Malleus finally asks.

The man chuckles. “All you need to do is to take her place. Call off your man and promise no harm shall come to me. In return, I’ll release your beloved.”

“How can I guarantee that once I die, you’ll keep your word?”

“Malleus I don-” Lilia is cut off with a look.

The duke sighs. “Honestly, you should have more faith in your father-in-law. But I will make a magic oath with you.”

Malleus doesn’t hesitate. “I accept.”

A wide, crazed grin forms on the duke’s face. “I knew you’d make the smart choice!”

“Malleus!” Lilia protests. “Don’t do this!”

“What choice do I have, Lilia?” Tears are streaming down your face. “If I don’t do this, she’ll die. And if she’s gone, I…I might as well be dead.”

The older fae can’t find any words. Of course he wants the queen back. But if Briar Valley loses their king, he’s not sure what will happen. However, Lilia can’t think of a way out of this. If what the duke told them of his unique magic is true, then they can’t kill him without killing you. And even if it might not be true, Malleus isn’t the type to take that sort of gamble. Not with you on the line.

Duke Wynters sighs. “This could have all been avoided if my dear stupid child had followed the plan. Instead she goes and falls in love with you.” Clucking his tongue, he shakes his head with feigned sadness. “That blade she’s holding is special. We spent so much time and resources looking for something that could kill such a powerful creature like you. The blade is cursed so that no wound made with it can be healed with magic or potions.”

Suddenly you start to jerkily walk toward Malleus while wielding the blade. The fear in your eyes shines brightly as you hold the blade inches from where his heart is. Your hand shakes.

Malleus meets your gaze. He had vowed to never make you unhappy, but it seems he’s unable to keep that promise. Reaching out, he cups your face and brushes away the tears. “Do not worry, my heart, everything will be okay.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he can feel the blade’s point press into him. He closes his eyes.

“NO!” The shout that breaks through the tense silence chills him to the bone. Eyes opening, he only briefly sees you smiling through your tears with the blade plunged deep into your chest. You crumble to the ground.

The duke lets out a horrified scream that turns into a choke gurgle. He clutches at his chest as he loses his balance. He falls forward and plummets from the balcony. His body hits the ground with a sickening crunch.

However, Malleus is preoccupied with the blood that seeps from your body. Holding you close to him, he attempts to use magic on the wound. He ignores the blood that soaks into his clothes. But the blade only seems to absorb it. He mutters an apology as he pulls the blade out and attempts to heal the wound. Still nothing happens.

His voice cracks, “Lilia, what do I do?!” For the first time, Malleus is powerless.

Lilia shakes his head. “I don’t know…”

Your eyes flutter open. You attempt to touch him but you have no energy, so your hand falls uselessly aside. Malleus cradles your body. “Don’t leave me! Please!”

Your eyes glaze over. “No!” Malleus screams your name, but you don’t move. Dark clouds block out the sky and the wind howls outside as green lightning flashes.

A loud, mournful roar shakes the very earth.

---

You wake to bright fluorescent lights and the sound of a steady beeping noise. There’s also the familiar music of Idia’s favorite idol game playing. Turning your head to the sound, you spot Idia sitting in a chair with his eyes glued to his phone. It’s strange seeing him. Your head feels like mush as you try to gather your thoughts. Your heart throbs painfully for a moment before the feeling fades.

“Idia?” you call him.

He looks up from his screen, eyes widening. “You’re finally awake!”

Trying to piece together the last thing you remember, you ask, “What’s going on?”

“You fell down the stairs to the subway.” He pauses his game. “The doctors said you might be confused. Do you still remember everything?”

Sitting up, you glance at the clock on the wall with a slow nod. “How long was I out?”

“About a day.”

Touching the back of your head, you wince. “Are you sure? I swear it feels like I’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“Yup. You left me a message yesterday. By the way, it’s not a cringe book! Only noobs like you would think that,” he scoffs.

“Book?” Your head feels like a jumbled mess.

He rummages through his backpack before pulling out a familiar book. “The one I lent you. ‘Melting the Dragon King’s Heart’ is a heartfelt strangers-to-friends-to-lovers royal romance! It has everything you could ask for! Evil queen, hot dragon fae, spunky protagonist and a talking cat!”

You take the book from him. Frowning, you stare at the cover. The dragon king looks like a generic dark haired man. Yet, it looks wrong. “Are you sure he always looked like this?”

“What’s wrong with the way Malford looks?” You can see the annoyance in his face.

“Malford? Are you sure that’s his name?” You point to the cover. “I swear he looked different…”

Idia shrugs. “The dragon king is Malford Drago. He’s always looked like that. Yeesh! I know you didn’t like the story but at least pay attention to the main leads.”

When trying to remember, your head throbs painfully. Letting out a deep sigh, you fall back into the pillow. “Maybe I did hit my head harder than I thought…”

Glancing at the time, India starts packing up. “Visiting hours are almost over. I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake and come back tomorrow. Do you want me to bring anything for you?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Idia.” Smiling briefly, you close your eyes as you suddenly feel tired. Even as you drift off again, you feel like something’s missing.

---

A month after your fall down the subway stairs, you’re darting across the street. Dodging cars and people, you shout into the phone pressed to your ear. “I’ll be there in a few hours, Idia! I promise! I just forgot to grab some food.”

“I have food,” he grumbles. You can hear battle music in the background.

“You have cavity-inducing candy! I need real food!” You skillfully weave your way through the people. “The raid can wait, my stomach can’t. I’ll text you when I’m heading over.” You end the call before Idia can argue further.

Despite going back to your usual routine, something feels off. The doctor had reassured you that you might feel a bit confused, but that you would be fine. You feel like something is missing. When you’re sleeping, you have such vivid dreams. Yet, when you wake up, you can’t recall anything and there’s a painful throbbing in your chest. When you checked with your doctor, they just passed it off as part of your body’s response to the accident. You tried your best to ignore it since then.

Pausing, you realize you’re standing near the subway. The same place where you fell because you weren’t paying attention. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you carefully descend down the stairs. You’re only halfway down when someone bumps into you.

“Hey!” The perpetrator rushes down without looking back.

Grumbling under your breath, you take a step. But your foot misses. You briefly wonder what Idia will say when he finds out you're in the hospital again. However, the fall never comes because the person coming up the stairs reaches out to save you.

Pressed against them, you meet familiar green eyes. They’re wide with surprise. “Are you okay?” Something about the voice sends a spark through your body. You know that voice.

Righting yourself, you frantically nod. “Y-yes! Thank you!”

He smiles. “Of course.” He pauses, brows furrowing. “You’re the one from before.”

“Huh?” You’re pretty sure you’ve never met despite the strange feeling.

He nods. “Yes, I remember. You fell down the stairs a few weeks ago. I tried to catch you but unfortunately didn't make it. I’m glad to see you’re okay, though.”

So he was the voice that called to you when you fell. “I…thank you for catching me this time. I should be more careful.”

When he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Maybe keep both eyes forward. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt again.”

“…” You don’t know what else to say. He’s breathtakingly beautiful and even more so when he smiles. His sharp green eyes are warm when they meet your gaze. You’re usually not the type to fall for a pretty face, but you can’t deny the instant attraction.

He seems to take your silence as the end of the conversation. “It’s nice to see you again. I hope you stay safe.” He nods before heading upstairs.

You stand there on the step frozen. The further he gets, the more your heart aches. Why? Touching your chest, you bite the inside of your cheek. Taking a deep breath, you rush back up. Looking around frantically, you see him already halfway down the street.

“W-wait!” you shout. Phone pressed to his ear, he turns with a slight frown, but his expression softens when he sees you.

You rush across the street, nearly getting hit by a car. They honk loudly while yelling unintelligible out the window. Ignoring them, you rush to him. Trying to calm your erratic heart, you take a deep breath.

“Let me call you back, Lilia,” you hear him say into the phone before ending the call and tucking the phone into his pocket. “Are you okay?” he asks, a single eyebrow raised.

You nod. “I-I wanted to ask if you’d like to grab a drink with me if you’re not busy. To thank you for saving me.” Yes, that sounds like a valid excuse. And it's not like Idia expects you anytime soon.

He tilts his head to the side. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You swallow nervously. “If you want to, that is…”

He regards you silently before agreeing. “I’d love to.”

Beaming, you hold out your hand. “Great. I’m (Y/N).”

When he takes your hand to shake, butterflies fill your stomach. He eyes your clasped hands with interest. “I’m Malleus,” he replies.

You stand there like an idiot still holding his hand. But he doesn’t seem to want to let go either. Your heart feels full and for the first time since the accident, the pain is no longer there.

Tag list: @candlewitch-cryptic, @whatstheoccasion, @nimko, @yo4sblog, @mc-cos-charm, @mochiclouds, @41sh4, @unloadingdata, @noctifer-cynoct, @rincommittedarsin, @liesatemyocean , @mavix

#twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #reader insert #scenario

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a-star-that-burns-brightly · 19 days

Text

CH2-12 thoughts (spoilers, I guess. You probably shouldn't be in the tag if you haven't finished the episode though.)

So! DRDT is officially back, and wow what a way to begin the rollercoaster we'll be put through the next few weeks. This episode was amazing, and I wanted to discuss my thoughts on it in a more detailed form. This episode gave us a lot of character moments that I want to at least mention, so let's get into it? Before we do though, I want to say that through these posts, I will be updating two things and showing them at the beginning and end First one being the swear statistics! It became a thing after my previous rewatch that every time a character swears, I count it, and I want to continue doing that for the rest of the series if I can so manage it.

^ current swear statistics as of CH2-11

And the second being...drumroll please!

My own personal DRDT CH2-Part 2 bingo card! If something on this list happens in CH2-Part 2, I'll check it off. Hopefully I can get a bingo or two in here, especially since, spoilers, two of the boxes have already been checked. But with all of that preamble out of the way, let's begin shall we? I’m going to cover the character moments we got in separate categories of the well…characters, rather than in order, for the sake of being concise.

Arturo

First and foremost, “Shut your whore mouth” made me scream at the top of my lungs. God I wish that was voiced. But more importantly, the thing about Arturo being very young for a plastic surgeon actually being addressed was not something I expected, especially so early. But I definitely appreciate the nuggets of Arturo backstory. Funny enough, his situation sounds very similar to Min’s in some regard, especially this line

(x) Arturo: I was only able to get this far in such a short amount of time because I specialized in plastic surgery, and nothing else. I neglected everything that wasn't immediately relevant to my goals.

This absolutely plays a factor into his relationship with his little sister. It more than likely was not just him leaving that made her commit suicide, but perhaps also years of neglect. And if she really felt like she couldn't live a life without Arturo in it, it's safe to say that their parents probably weren't the best either. The more I learn about Arturo and his homelife the more worried I am for him and especially his sister.

Veronika

Veronika didn't get much besides being her usual self, but I gave her a category because I wanted to point out two things One, Veronika calling Arturo cute. That just made me smile

And secondly, this line right here

(x) Veronika: Oh, and don't say something as boring as "I want to kill myself." I have no interest in such mundane reasons.

This is so fucked up and awful and gross and I absolutely love her for it. I just know she's going to get worse, I hope she does.

And also the fact that she apparently finds suicide to be inherently boring is very interesting, given the fact that she more than likely has the self-harm secret.

Whit

I know he didn't have much, if any major role in this episode but...listen I missed him. So much. You have actually zero idea how much I missed him and his goofiness... But also I can't believe that was the explanation for the dent in the computer lab that's been bugging me for months. Well played DT-Dev... (though the fact that Whit got away with breaking a rule solely because MonoTV thought it was funny is a bit fishy...it's almost like he's the MASTERMIND-- /hj)

We also in general got a lot of Charles and Whit moments, which I always like to see I don't think there's anything else to cover when it comes to Wh--

(x) David: Ugh! Goddamn it, Whit, does everything you say have to be made into some shitty dumb joke?! You're actually really fucking annoying! Shut the fuck up!!

...Well, when I said I wanted more Whitvid interactions I guess this can serve as a reward. ...guys dont worry this is how we can still wi--

Levi

...I mean, what else is there to say really?

No but actually I'll talk. This is what we've been theorizing for a year, and I actually had it in my predictions that Levi's secret was going to be the one revealed in this episode. But I did not expect it right at the end, nor did I expect it to be so sudden. And I don't think Levi has any reason to lie either, so I think this is his actual secret. Seeing him lose confidence and apologize for his unhelpfulness kind of stung to me, honestly. Levi has been trying to help the group since the very beginning, and that has only amplified since the start of Chapter 2. So seeing him...basically give up was very upsetting He is definitely going to be in the hot seat next week's episode and I am very excited for it, hopefully we get some insight on his past as well and...maybe a levi and nico interaction? please dt-dev? please? :>

FishyFried, as always, knocked it out of the fucking park with Hu's voice acting, and her monologue towards David was just as amazing...if not a bit terrifying, as it directly parallels with her hidden quote

I want to pay for what I’ve done. But even then, I still want to live.

I think I've said this before, but I adore David and Hu's dynamic and how both of them tackle the themes of change in their own ways, how both of them project onto the people around them to fulfill their own desires due to being stagnant in their own growth as people, it's so much fun, and I can't wait to see how this continues to develop in the later chapters I am sincerely a ch5victim!david + ch5killer!hu believer at the end of the day.

Teruko

Oh Teruko, quite a bit to discuss with you today.

For starters, her genuinely feeling embarrassed and upset upon realizing what she did wrong, apologizing for it, and (how I interpreted it anyway) beginning to realize that working alone and not accepting help from others is starting to bite her in the ass? That was not what I expected. I really did think that Teruko was going to get worse before she got better, but maybe she's improving a lot quicker than I thought (...let's hope she doesn't backslide again though, especially if the culprit is who I think it is) Also.

If I have to live with this knowledge, so the-fuck do you. And then there's her argument with David, which I already made a post about, but I want to add onto it by saying that the performances from Swords and LuucarIi here are absolutely phenomenal. One of my favorite voice acted scenes in the entire series. I have replayed Teruko's "Hah! Based on what?!" probably around 20 times and I will repeat it 20 times more because the delivery gives me actual chills. This fangan has such an amazing voice cast oh my god it's insane.

David

Oh. You are such a broken, broken man, and you are absolutely going to go down the Simon Laurent route. I actually don't have a lot to add when it comes to David's actual motivations for his actions, I think a lot of us theorized that he was trying to kill everyone and himself. But the main thing I want to talk about is the Xander shit because oh my god this man is Down Fucking Horrendous. I mentioned all the way back in this post that David idolizes Xander just as much as Xander idolizes him. What I didn't expect was for him to still be clinging onto the hope Xander gave him and trying to follow in his footsteps, and being borderline possessive over the damn dead man. Xander may have idolized David, but David is obsessed with Xander and what he represents to him. And he is willing to ruin his reputation, reliability, and dignity in pursuit of what he thinks is right. Not to mention, it puts the Tally5 image in a whole new light.

Though I still think these words apply to the very possible revolution that David, Xander, and Mai enacted towards Hope's Peak, a theory that has become even more credible after this episode, I also think these lines portray David's thought process during his actions in CH2-11 and his motivation for doing the things that he does. David calling Xander "the only good person he's ever known" is very, very telling when you consider what he personally thinks makes someone a bad person (lazy, useless, stupid). And that makes me upset. Xander and David's relationship will never not be absolutely fascinating to me. ...alSO DAVID APPARENTLY HAS MEMORIES FROM HOPE'S PEAK??? APPARENTLY??? Like am I reading that right or do I just have bad media literacy. How...How does he??? WHY does he??? Why did he say he didn't know who Xander was in the prologue???? I am very confused and I'm sure it will all be answered. Extra Thoughts !! - we got 7:30 AM confirmation, woohoo!! And the bonus of Arei swinging when she was first found was such a good detail and I’m surprised none of us noticed it, honestly. With that confirmation, that leaves basically everyone else (minus J, David, Veronika, Hu, and Nico) in the hot-seat. - the multitude of new sprites we got were so amazing, especially David's - Apparently everything that happened in the second half of CH2-11 was in the span of two hours?! Sheesh, the editing crew on the TV show must be working overtime. Hopefully they get a paycheck and its not just MonoTV who gets paid. - If I had any doubt in my brain that Eden was the culprit it has basically dissipated with this episode. I really do not know who else it could be other than her. three of the five main suspects other than her have basically been cleared up, either through alibi (J and Hu) or though plot (Levi) David and Nico are also cleared from suspicion Though there isn't really any plot or evidence reason to necessarily exclude Rose, given her moment in CH2-8 and, let's be honest, this murder being way too physically complicated for someone as lethargic as her to commit, I'm inclined to believe she is not And every other character has something that's clearly being set up to be further explored in Chapter 3 (Charles, Whit, Ace, Arturo, and Veronika) Like... even if you don't think Eden is the culprit, you can't deny that she's the odd one out here. I still think Accomplice!Levi is true, but I also truthfully think the culprit can't be anyone other than Eden - If I were to give one I-guess critique though, not just on this episode but on the trial as a whole, it's that we are four trial episodes in and there has been very, very little focus on the actual murder mystery itself. We have barely even covered 80% of the evidence. This isn't like, a huge problem for me specifically because I very much watch DRDT for the astounding character writing over the murder mysteries, and I definitely think that the lack of focus on the case is worth the amazing character moments we got in this episode. But I can see it really bothering some people, and there's a part of me that can't help but be a bit afraid that the actual solving of the murder case is going to hit the audience with a bunch of information at once and come across as a bit rushed due to the lack of focus it's had so far. I trust that DT-Dev is cooking though, and it'll probably be a lot more cohesive once we have the full trial to look through.

Predictions for CH2-13 - Like I said before, Levi is going to become the main suspect easily thanks to his secret reveal. I know Ace is going to be on his ass especially, because in his mind it would basically confirm the image he has already conjured up of Levi in his mind as a violent brute who is going to snap his neck any second. J is also going to jump to conclusions because that's just what she does, and she was already concerned about the murderer secret to begin with. - Furthermore, I think most of this episode is going to entail Teruko trying to disprove that Levi could've been the culprit. Considering the fact that there, well, isn't much evidence to suggest he didn't, maybe this episode will feature this chapter's Random Guess minigame. - I highly doubt we're getting an AM VS PM scrum debate now, but maybe we'll get one on whether or not Levi is the culprit? Maybe? - On the topic of trial minigames, I hope we get another nonstop debate, it's been like three episodes since we've had one lmao - Nico is either going to defend Levi, or reiterate the speech that J gave them in CH2-9. Either way, I hope this reveal causes them to interact it would be so interesting - We are on a track-record of having at least one person's secret exposed every trial episode. Considering the fact that Xander and Min are dead, and I do not think Teruko's secret will come out until the end of the chapter, that really only leaves Hu and Veronika...which is interesting, as they are both in the clear for being the culprit. Hu has already had multiple moments to shine in this trial, so I think its more likely that Veronika's secret will be the one getting revealed. How that happens, I am unsure. But I think Veronika will be the next person to have her secret revealed.

Conclusion Overall, I think this episode was amazing and a great way to kick off the end of the hiatus. I can already tell that these next few weeks are going to be a wild ride for us DRDT fans, but we're all in this together, so I think everything's going to be fine (nothing is going to be fine.)

UPDATED SWEAR STATISTICS: CH2-12

UPDATED BINGO CARD

#I don't think I need to tag the tally5 image cause its been a year but if anyone wants me to I will #also because I feel like someone's gonna ask #furuya is the track used in arei and arturo's secret reveals and its my favorite track so far in drdt if it is used again I will go insane #danganronpa despair time #drdt

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livdomtruther · 13 days

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WILDFLOWER.

collab with the most talented and beloved editor @livbl1ss on twt!

Liv and Dom had officially been together for a few months, their chemistry so palpable that it practically sizzled through the screen. Fans couldn’t get enough of the way they looked at each other, their love so genuine, so electric, that it became the talk of every social feed. The way they laughed together, exchanged glances filled with meaning, and held each other close—it all felt so real. Their relationship had become a fairytale in the eyes of the world, but lately, Liv had started to notice the cracks beneath the surface.

It was subtle at first, a slight hesitation in Dom’s touch or the way his gaze would linger just a second too long on something else. Dom, who once couldn’t keep his hands off her, had started to pull away. The warmth he used to shower her with was becoming a rare occurrence, reserved only for the cameras.

On-screen, he still played the part perfectly. His touches were tender, his kisses soft, and when he looked at her, it was as though nothing had changed. Her heart still fluttered in those moments, the way it always had. But the second the cameras stopped rolling, the affection vanished. It was like a switch had been flipped. His arms that once held her close would fall to his sides, his gaze turning distant. Liv kept telling herself it was the stress, that the constant pressure of their schedules was weighing on him. But no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, the sinking feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away.

The little moments they used to cherish—the weekly dates, the late-night conversations, the times when it was just them—had become distant memories. Dom always had an excuse. There was always something more important: extra practice, late meetings, vague commitments that kept him from being with her. Each time he told her he was busy, she nodded and smiled, but inside, the gnawing ache whispered that something was wrong. She wanted to believe him, but her heart knew otherwise. Something had shifted, and she was terrified to find out what it was.

She had tried asking Finn a few times if he knew anything, but every time, his answer was the same—a slight shake of his head and a soft, “I have no idea.” Liv wasn’t convinced, though. Finn had always been close to Dom, maybe closer than anyone. He had to have noticed something, right? But if he did, he wasn’t letting on. Desperate for answers, she’d even gone to JD and Carlito, though that only left her more frustrated. Their confusion seemed genuine, their brows furrowed and their responses sincere, but ultimately useless. Slowly, Liv swallowed her doubts, forcing them down into the pit of her stomach, hoping—no, convincing herself—that she was just being paranoid.

The Judgment Day strutted backstage after finishing their latest segment, pride practically radiating off them. They moved as one—confident, dominant, untouchable. Dominik’s arm was draped possessively over Liv’s shoulder, pulling her close into his chest as they walked. She leaned into him, her body fitting against his as if it were second nature, the corners of her mouth curled into a grin. For a moment, everything felt right, just like before. But then, slowly, almost reluctantly, Dom’s arm slipped from her shoulders. The warmth of his touch faded, and without so much as a backward glance, he turned to Finn.

“We’ll be right back, guys,” Dom said, his voice cool, detached. He didn’t even look at her—didn’t spare her a single second. Liv’s smile faltered as she watched him walk away, her stomach twisting with a familiar, hollow ache. She stood frozen, trying to mask her confusion and hurt, but it was all too clear in her eyes.

Finn saw it. As he turned to follow Dom, he caught her expression—those wide eyes, brimming with unspoken sadness, the hurt she was trying so hard to hide. It hit him like a punch to the gut. He bit the inside of his cheek, conflicted. He’d always thought of Liv like a little sister, and seeing her like this—so lost, so confused—made his chest tighten with guilt and frustration. Without another word, he followed after Dom, his heart heavy, knowing something wasn’t right.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," Liv said softly to JD and Carlito, her voice barely holding steady. They exchanged glances, sensing that something was off, but neither of them pressed her on it. Liv quickly walked away before she could let the tears that threatened to spill break through the fragile composure she clung to.

Her chest felt tight, every step growing heavier as she tried to push down the storm of emotions rising within her. As she moved through the hallway, her eyes briefly caught sight of Rhea, who was deep in conversation with Damian. Liv’s mind raced, and a thousand thoughts darted through her head in a whirlwind. Could it be something to do with Rhea? No, she tried to convince herself, Dom was over her. He had to be. Rhea had done him so dirty, hurt him in ways that cut so deep, wounds that almost never healed. Liv knew Dom had buried those feelings, hadn’t he? She shook her head, trying to dismiss the creeping doubt, but it lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Finally stepping outside, Liv leaned her back against the cold, hard wall. The night air bit at her skin, but she welcomed it, hoping it would numb the ache that had taken root in her chest. Her eyes scanned the dark sky as she let out a shaky breath, but no amount of fresh air could stop the thoughts from consuming her. They swirled around her like a storm—unanswered questions, fears she couldn’t voice. Her heart pounded in her chest, and no matter how hard she tried to push it away, she couldn’t escape the feeling that something between her and Dom had irrevocably changed.

She shook her head, trying to brush off the wave of insecurity that had washed over her. "He’s probably just been tired and overwhelmed with everything," she muttered aloud, her voice wavering as if speaking the words would make them true. "He even got that damn black eye… He always becomes distant when he's overwhelmed. It’s fine. It’s fine," she repeated, trying to convince herself that everything would be okay.

The cold wind bit at her skin, a sharp reminder of the chill she felt inside, but Liv forced herself to take a deep breath. The icy air filled her lungs, grounding her, at least for a moment. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to slowly walk back inside, the cold becoming too much to bear.

As she made her way through the hallway, Liv decided that tonight, she would talk to Dom. She couldn’t keep drowning in her doubts and fears. She needed to understand him, to break through whatever wall he had built between them. More than anything, she wanted to be there for him, to heal whatever was hurting him. She knew he had his struggles, that there were things he kept buried deep, but she loved him—every piece of him. And no matter what, she wanted him to know that she would always be there, always love him. She just had to make him see that.

Her steps, which had started off slow and uncertain, quickened with each passing second, her heart pounding in sync with her growing sense of urgency. The air around her felt thick, her thoughts a tangled mess of hopes and fears. She needed answers, needed to throw her doubts away and hear him explain everything. Her breath came faster as she sped down the halls, knowing she must have looked frantic, maybe even a little crazy, but she didn’t care. Her desperation to see Dominik, to understand what was really going on, outweighed everything else.

Liv’s mind raced as she neared the locker room, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She assumed Dom had finished talking to Finn by now—after all, she had been outside long enough for him to be done. A sliver of hope began to warm her chest as she got closer to the door. The closer she got, the more secure she felt, as if the answers she longed for were just behind that door. Her heart swelled with the thought that everything might finally be okay. Maybe all the confusion and hurt would fade away after this conversation.

A small smile flickered across her face as she reached for the door handle. The metal was cool against her skin, grounding her for just a moment as she gathered her courage. She took a deep breath, her fingers wrapping tightly around the handle as she began to slowly open the door. The hinges creaked softly as she eased it open, her heart thudding in anticipation. She was ready—ready to step in, ready to face whatever awaited her, ready to talk to him.

But just as she was about to step inside, she froze. Her heart lurched in her chest as the familiar sound of Dominik’s voice reached her ears, stopping her dead in her tracks. She couldn’t move, rooted to the spot, her hand still gripping the door handle as her breath caught in her throat. Something about his tone sent a shiver down her spine, making her pause before entering.

"I just—I don’t know, man." Dominik's voice cracked as he sighed heavily, the frustration and exhaustion clear in his tone. He looked utterly defeated, as though the weight of his own thoughts was suffocating him, pulling him under. The room felt thick with tension, and Finn could only watch him with concern, his expression softening into pity.

Dominik's fingers twitched at his sides as he spoke, his eyes darting to the ground, unable to meet Finn’s gaze. "I’m just so unsure about this whole thing..." His voice wavered, laced with hesitation, like he didn’t even know how to articulate the storm raging inside him.

"What do you mean, Dom?" Finn asked, though his voice was cautious, knowing the conversation was teetering on the edge of something serious. He needed Dom to say it, to confirm the doubts he already sensed were eating away at him.

"Liv." The single word escaped Dominik's lips, almost like a breath he’d been holding for too long. It hit the air with a weight that felt almost physical, sinking into the silence between them. His head hung low, eyes still glued to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to say her name out loud.

Outside the door, Liv felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath her. Her heart plummeted, each beat growing more painful, her chest tightening with an unbearable ache. She could barely breathe, her breaths coming out in shallow, uneven gasps as her mind spun in a million directions. Dom was talking about her. He was unsure… about her. Her heart, once hopeful and full of love, now felt like it was breaking, piece by piece. The walls of the corridor seemed to close in on her, the weight of the moment suffocating.

Finn sighed deeply, his back pressing against the cold wall, as if trying to ground himself amidst the intensity of the conversation. His expression darkened with the understanding of what Dom was really saying, the tension almost too much to bear.

"She loves you, Dom," Finn finally said, his voice gentle yet firm, as if hoping to cut through the haze of doubt clouding Dominik’s mind. There was an urgency in his tone, a quiet desperation to remind Dom of the obvious—something Finn knew was true, even if Dom had started to forget.

Dominik's jaw tightened, the words hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. His shoulders slumped, weighed down by a burden he didn’t know how to carry. "I know she loves me, Finn," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration, guilt threading through each syllable. The rawness of his tone hung in the air, his vulnerability exposed, though he tried to hide it behind clenched teeth.

His eyes squeezed shut, as if closing out the world would dull the pain he was feeling. He took a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling unevenly, struggling to hold himself together. The tension in his body was palpable, his muscles coiled tight like he was ready to snap. Every inch of him screamed conflict—the push and pull between love and uncertainty ripping him apart from the inside.

"You don’t need to remind me," Dominik added, his voice cracking slightly as the weight of his guilt pressed harder. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white as he fought against the emotions swirling inside him. It was as if he wanted to shut it all out, to run from the truth Finn had laid bare, but he couldn't escape the guilt that gnawed at him, the guilt that came from knowing how much Liv loved him—and how much he was hurting her.

"Look—" Finn began, trying to offer something, anything, to make sense of it all, but Dominik cut him off before he could find the words.

"I should put it all behind me," Dom rushed out, his voice cracking under the strain of his emotions. His fists clenched at his sides, his entire body tensing as if he was fighting some inner turmoil. "Shouldn’t I?" He asked, his tone desperate, his voice quivering with uncertainty, like he was pleading for someone to give him an answer, to tell him what to do. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, too ashamed or too scared to look up.

Liv stood frozen in place, her body trembling, her heart breaking all over again with every word she heard. The heaviness in her chest was unbearable now, like a weight crushing her from the inside out. The tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her throat tight with the agony of hearing Dominik question everything. She couldn’t listen anymore. It was too much. Every word, every confession, felt like a dagger twisting deeper into her soul, unraveling everything she thought she had with him.

Liv couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of Dominik’s words was too much, suffocating her with every second she stood there. Without thinking, she turned on her heel, her long blonde hair falling forward to cover the sides of her face as she hurried away. She needed to escape, to get as far away from the crushing pain that had now settled deep in her chest. Her heart raced, her mind spinning, his words replaying in a cruel loop that she couldn’t silence.

Was all of her overthinking and insecurities true? Every doubt, every fear she had buried was now bubbling to the surface. Was Dominik saying all of this because of Rhea? Had he fallen back for her? The thought ripped through her like a storm, making her feel dizzy, disoriented, as though the ground beneath her feet was crumbling. Her legs carried her forward on autopilot as she pushed her way through staff members and wrestlers who were busy getting ready for the next segment. She barely registered their presence, her mind too clouded with the torment of her own thoughts.

Her breathing grew more ragged, her chest tight, and her vision blurred as she hurried toward the nearest sanctuary—the women’s bathroom. Liv reached the door, her hand slamming into the handle with such force that it nearly ripped off its hinges as she shoved it open. The door flew open with a loud bang, the sound echoing in the small space, but Liv didn’t care. She stumbled inside, her body trembling as she braced herself against the cold tile wall, gasping for breath as the whirlwind of emotions finally consumed her.

Shakily, Liv managed to lock the door behind her, her fingers trembling as she twisted the lock. Her body felt heavy, drained of all strength, as she slid down the cold tile wall. The chill of the surface seeped through her clothes, but she barely noticed. She sat on the floor, pulling her knees tightly against her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if trying to hold herself together. Normally, Dominik would’ve been the one to comfort her, to pull her close and whisper soft words to ease her pain. But now, he was the reason she was breaking, and she had only herself to lean on.

“There’s no way, right?” she muttered, her voice cracking as she stared blankly ahead, her mind racing with doubt. Her throat tightened painfully as a lump formed, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. She wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that this was just a misunderstanding, but Dominik’s words kept echoing in her mind, cutting deeper each time they replayed.

Tears welled in her eyes and soon spilled down her cheeks, warm against the coldness of the room. Her sobs came quietly at first, but then one tore through her, raw and filled with all the hurt she had tried to hold back. "I thought he loved me," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she buried her face in her knees, the weight of those words crushing her. She felt so small, so vulnerable in that moment, the overwhelming sadness making it hard to breathe. All the love she had poured into him now felt like it was slipping through her fingers, leaving nothing but heartbreak in its place.

Was Liv about to get betrayed again? And for the person who had hurt her so deeply in the past? The thought alone sent a cold shiver through her. She had never once feared that Dominik would miss or go back to Rhea, but now it was all she could think about. The doubts swirled in her mind like a storm, chaotic and relentless. What if Dominik was longing for Rhea? What if he wanted to go back to her? The questions gnawed at her insides, each one more painful than the last.

"Was I… not enough?" she cried out, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with hurt. She buried her face against her knees, hugging them tighter as if trying to hold herself together. But the loneliness, the emptiness, was unbearable. She felt like she was falling apart, her heart breaking in a way she hadn't expected.

Her phone buzzed with a flurry of notifications, the sound cutting through the silence of the bathroom like a knife. Dominik. His name flashed across the screen repeatedly, text after text. He was asking where she was, if she wanted to go on their weekly date, apologizing for missing out on the others. But Liv couldn’t bring herself to care, couldn’t even bear to look at the messages. She was too much of a mess, her mind consumed with the fear and heartbreak of what she had overheard.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her phone, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the buttons. She couldn’t stand the constant buzzing, the reminder that Dominik was trying to reach out, that he was apologizing now—too late. She shut off the phone, the screen going black as she let out a deep, shaky sigh. But the tears didn’t stop. The ache in her chest, that heavy, crushing feeling, wouldn't subside. She couldn’t shake the fear that she wasn’t enough, that she was losing him to someone who had already broken her once.

Liv knew, deep down, that she could never bring herself to hate Dominik. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how many tears she cried, she couldn’t place the blame on him. So, as always, she turned it inward, tearing herself apart in the process. The comparisons flooded her mind relentlessly—Rhea’s strength, her confidence, her undeniable presence. How could she ever measure up? Why was it always her left feeling so broken?

She was a mess, shattered into pieces she didn’t know how to put back together. "When will I be enough for someone to stay?" she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of her sorrow. The words felt heavy in her throat, laced with desperation. The idea that Dominik could be longing for Rhea again was drowning her, the thought suffocating as she tried and failed to push it away.

Tears streamed down her face, unchecked, and her chest tightened painfully as if her heart was being squeezed. She couldn’t escape the feeling of not being enough—not for Rhea, not for Dominik, not for anyone. Her mind spun in circles, torturing her with images of what could have been, of everything slipping through her fingers.

But if only she had stayed longer.

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lokis-dark-queen · 1 year

Text

Tropical Tension

Loki/Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You ask Tony if Loki can accompany the team on a celebratory tropical vacation in Aruba. He agrees but then you are told by Natasha that he must share a room with someone. Coincidentally, you and Loki have been harboring some feelings for each other. What will happen on your much needed getaway?

Warnings/Notes: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI. Teasing, pining, a little bit of shy Loki, BODY SHOTS, Oral Sex (F receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do that irl). Loosely proofread, I apologize for any mistakes.

Word Count: 8.6k

Also on AO3

*header from Pinterest*

You skillfully folded your favorite sundresses and swimsuits into your new suitcase, specially purchased for this upcoming trip. The most recent Avengers mission had been an overwhelming success and Tony had suggested an all inclusive group vacation to Aruba to celebrate. It was your first big mission, and the praise from your teammates gave you that satisfying feeling of acceptance.

A sudden knock at your door pulled you out of your proud mind. Already knowing who was on the other side, you invited him in.

“Come in, Loki.” You smiled as the god of mischief made his entrance. His long legs floated in your direction immediately.

“How in the nine realms did you figure out it was me?” He announces sarcastically.

You can’t hold back a giggle, Loki seemed to always find a way to make you laugh.

When the trip was announced, you immediately asked if Loki could come along. He had been staying at the tower for almost a full year now; it was almost two years since his attempted invasion of New York. After a surprisingly short imprisonment on Asgard, Loki had cut a deal when he helped Thor deal with the dark elves and collect the aether. He seemed to have won his brother’s respect after nearly sacrificing himself for Jane, who was now Thor’s ex girlfriend. Loki showed an example of selflessness, however, so Thor gave him a second chance.

Loki also had important information on a potential threat who was on the hunt for infinity stones. He never spoke his name, saying he was tortured by the being. But his information helped ready the Earth for this potential threat, as well as clearing him for his crimes in New York. The argument claims that he was not in the right state of mind after torture and influence by the mind stone. A new plea on mind control was given, the same plea that excused Barton for the crimes he committed while under the control of Loki, no, the scepter.

Loki found himself naturally attracted to your energy. You were quiet, calm, and collected, a certain peace in his life of chaos. When he got to know you, he heard you more, saw more sides of your personality, and he loved it. The two of you remained friends, your friendship was too far along and both of you were scared to ruin it. You both lived in a constant state of want for each other, however, you feared that neither of you would act on it. Loki was shy, surprisingly so. It took him months to warm up to you and once he did, he almost never stopped talking. You loved it though, and the sound of his voice.

“Have you started packing yet?” You asked him as he hovered around you, constantly keeping an appropriate distance.

“No need, I have everything I need in my magic compartments. I can summon any outfit at any time.” He brags.

“And you have clothes for the beach, ready to go?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I have clothes, my clothes, ready to go.”

“Loki, it’s going to be hot there, do you even have anything to swim in?” You questioned him.

“No need, I will not be doing such a thing.” He sticks his nose up at the idea.

“Don’t be a bummer, everyone else will be.” You pause and lower your voice to make it more seductive, “I will.”

Loki raises an eyebrow in sudden interest, “Not in this I hope.” He leans over and grabs one of your bikini tops out of your suitcase, ruining your careful organization. He inspects the emerald green bikini top, “If anyone sees you in this I will be gouging their eyes out.” His voice darked with his threat, causing a heat of arousal and embarrassment to run through your body and between your thighs.

“Loki!” You squealed as you failed to grab the tantalizing top from his determined grasp, “Give it back!”

“No chance darling.” He pulled his arms higher, his height kept it out of your grasp.

You secretly loved when Loki teased you like this, you knew it was his way of flirting. You reached up, pushing your flushed body with his in the process. Loki persisted pulling his arm back as you reached past his head in an attempt to reach the bikini top. You were unbearably close to him, his piercing eyes looked down upon your pathetic form. You whimpered in frustration at every failed attempt. Soon you dropped your arm, resting your hand on his shoulder. Loki assumed you had given up, when you were really just trying a different approach.

“Loki, please.” You looked up at him with innocence in your eyes, “Give it back.”

The god bit his tongue at the sight, god you were so perfectly submissive for him right now. A rush of blood went straight to his crotch as he lowered his arm, the hand with the bikini rested on his chest and the other wrapped around your waist.

“Y’know what I did on Asgard when I craved a refreshing dip in the hidden spring?” His voice has a seductive grow lacing it.

“What?” You ask with caution as he leaned closer to your ear, his warm breath brushed against the side of your face. “I swam naked, the way the Gods intended.”

Part of you feared where this was going, sirens blared in your head that urged you to stop. But your horniness pushed you to continue.

“Well mischief, you are more than welcome to do so. However I doubt the team would want to see…” Your eyes darted lower to where his semi-hard erection was now pressing up against your lower stomach, so close to where you craved him, “That.”

“They should be honored, I am a god. A very well endowed one at that.” His hips pressed even closer to you.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Your eyes darkened in lust.

This, unfortunately, was not the first time this had happened. You and Loki would tease each other to the point of unbearable sexual tension and then one of you would abandon the situation, leaving both of you frustrated.

You had managed to untangle the stringy top from his long, pale fingers as you retrieved it. Not knowing where to go from here, you froze in place. Maybe this time Loki would push it farther, the throbbing in your core was a telltale sign that you were ready for him, that you craved him.

“Loki.” You whispered his name softly, full of lust.

“Yes?” He said, voice full of desperation.

Your hands gripped his biceps, leaning closer to his lips.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard another knock at the door with a female voice yelling your name, “Are you in there?”

Natasha.

You loved her to death, but her unintentional cockblocking nearly made you explode in anger.

Loki’s touch faded, his form disappearing before your very eyes. He most likely knew that your friend would be barging into the room any second and he didn’t want to be caught in the compromising position.

You sighed in sexual frustration, “Yeah… come in.” You sounded utterly defeated and deprived. The bikini top is still in your hand.

“Hey! You almost packed?” She asks as she walks in your room, “You’re kind of red, are you okay? You better not be coming down sick before the trip.”

“I’m fine.” You sighed, sitting on your bed in defeat, cursing yourself when you felt the wet spot on your underwear.

Natasha looked down at the bikini top in your lap, “That is a very specific color of green, looking to impress someone?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, referring to a certain someone.

“We’re just friends, Natty.” You stand, finally placing the top in your suitcase.

“I can not be in the same room with you two without feeling uncomfortable from all of that tension. You two need to fuck.” She stresses that last part, if only she knew that was the exact situation she interrupted.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship, he’s so sweet and shy. I don’t want to lose him.” You try to reason. You weren’t lying, Loki was shy around the team. Around you however, he was a different man.

“He stares at you constantly, you won’t lose him. If anything you will gain something.” She hints.

You blush again, “Stop it! I wouldn’t even know where to start to encourage that from him.” You say as you throw a few more clothing items in your suitcase and close it with a victorious sigh.

“Since Loki was an add on, he won’t have his own room, you’ll have to share.” She winks.

“Are you kidding me? Tony is a billionaire, but he is too cheap to get one extra room for him?”

“He said room arrangements are final, we each have our own. You asked for Loki to come at the last minute, he has to split with someone.”

“He can happily share with Thor.” You suggested with a smug attitude.

“One bed per room, poor Loki wouldn’t have any room sharing a bed with that mammoth.” You both laugh at her nickname for the thunderous god.

“Loki can share with whoever he wants.” You say turning your back to your friend to zip your suitcase closed.

“Even me?” She teases to piss you off.

“No!” You turn quickly, yelling unintentionally.

Natasha gives an amused laugh, “I’m kidding, you think he would stay with another girl that wasn’t you?”

“He better not.” You say underneath your breath.

“He trusts you, more than his brother. Maybe I would go as far to say that he loves you.”

You stiffen up at her words, shaking your head in denial, “I don’t think he loves, Nat.” You sigh.

“Something tells me that you will be finding out soon.” She winks and goes to leave, “Good luck.”

You throw a pillow at the door after she closes it, hoping she heard the soft thump on the other side. That flight tomorrow was about to be a nightmare.

The group gathered around Tony’s private jet first thing the next morning. For once, you didn’t dread an early morning, in fact, you were excited. You needed this vacation and nothing was going to stop you from enjoying yourself.

Loki sulked near the corner of the hangar, wearing an all black button down with some black jeans.

You sighed, ‘He’s going to be miserable the whole trip if that is his wardrobe. And I know he is going to complain to me about it.’ You rolled your eyes as you thought to yourself.

You strolled towards the apathetic god, his eyes followed your form as you approached him. The sundresses have begun, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Please tell me you brought other types of clothes.” You scolded him, already knowing what he would say.

“Do not stress over me darling, this is a relaxing vacation, is it not?” He assured you.

“I don’t want to hear you bitch about being sweaty and miserable.” You growl.

Loki stepped closer, your teammates were none the wiser of you two as they gleefully chatted in excitement. He towered over you, trying his best to be intimidating to the girl he constantly whines to like a spoiled child. You met his phony cold gaze in annoyance and hidden anticipation. You remembered that you haven’t even told him the room arrangements yet.

“No promises.” He smirked.

“Loki I swear, if you fu-” You were about to go off on him for trying to make your ‘relaxing’ vacation less so before being interrupted by Tony.

“Alright Princesses, let's board.” He leads the way as everyone else follows, you and Loki trail behind.

Loki stayed right behind you as you walked on the jet, the knuckle of his index finger kept constant contact with the small of your back, hoping to not stray too far from you. The plane was cramped with all the heroes aboard, and he began to feel uncomfortable. Unfortunately for him, it would be a long flight.

Much to his disappointment, you left his side to go drink champagne with Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper. He quietly tried to reach for you as you went to go sit with them, exactly where he didn’t want you to be. Thor attempted to wave him over so that he would sit with him and Rogers. Loki just rolled his eyes and sat in the far back corner of the plane, alone.

You began to loosen up after a glass as you talked with the girls.

“I really needed this, Fury has been on my ass with missions and papers, ugh…” Natasha groaned.

“Me too,” You huffed, “I had to write that entire mission report, you know, the whole reason we are on this trip in the first place. He didn’t even acknowledge everything that I did to get that in on time.”

“Well, we do. Thank you, for your hard work.” Pepper raised her glass as a toast to you.

You all had a moment of silence, taking everything in. The men played card games on the other side of the cabin, being rather loud in the process.

“Boys… What are we gonna do with them?” Natasha scoffed, sipping from her flute.

“What about the stowaway?” Wanda points at Loki, sitting in the back of the plane. He read a book with one leg resting over the other. You noticed how his foot bounced, he was anxious.

“He’s fine.” You sigh, finishing the rest of your second glass, “Just dramatic.”

You put on a facade for your friends, when in reality, you felt slightly guilty for leaving him alone. He hated being around the large group, and you were all stuck in a confined aircraft gliding over the ocean. You knew he was anxious, you wanted to comfort him.

“Go give him attention, he looks like those sad puppies in the commercials.” Natasha laughed and the other girls followed.

“Oh stop it.” You scoffed, slowly standing to leave the giggling group of girls. You could feel their eyes on you as you made your way to him.

He looked up at you from his seated position, “What? I thought I was just being dramatic.”

Of course he heard you, “Hey… I’m sorry for abandoning you. I know how much you hate being stuck with these guys. You didn’t have to come, y’know?” You apologized.

“Nonsense, I would never stop you from being with your friends. I came for you after all. I want you to enjoy yourself.” He states, continuing to read his book.

You smile and take the seat next to him, “I enjoy myself most when I’m with you.” You did not fail to notice the slight flush on his cheeks.

Loki didn’t know how to respond, his body tensed as your slightly tipsy head rested on his shoulder. You ignored the giggles and judgmental glances from the other passengers. It was just you and him. Your heavy eyes scanned the pages of the book along with him, taking in the sweet moment of silence among the chaos.

As the energy winded down everyone leaned their chairs back, turning them into makeshift beds. The plane would be landing early the next morning and you wanted to be well rested so you can enjoy your first day. You remained next to Loki, the divider in between the seats kept you two from touching as you laid next to him. Your eyes met in silence besides the muffled roar of the jet engine and Thor’s snoring.

“I should have told you earlier but Natasha said that you would have to share a room with someone else.” You whispered to the god next to you.

You swore you saw him smirk in the darkness, “And who should that person be?”

“Whoever you want, I don’t think that many people would be willing to do so though.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind darling, but I think I would go insane if I had to hear Thor’s snoring for the next week.” You both gave out a silent, breathy laugh.

“You’re always welcome to stay with me, Loki.” You brush your hand up against his.

“Don’t say that darling, I may never leave.” He quipped.

“Then don’t.”

You and Loki fell asleep with your fingers intertwined, your touch helped calm him into a state of slumber.

–

You awoke from the sun peeking through the shade on the cabin window and the pilot announcing that the plane will be landing soon. Loki was already awake, his chair back to its previous upright position. One hand held his paperback book, the other was still entangled with yours.

The humid air of Aruba kissed your exposed parts of skin that the sundress failed to cover. Vacation chaos resumed as everyone exited the jet, already arguing about the trip itinerary. You chose to do your own things on this trip, and most of that time would be spent on the most secluded, quiet beach you could find. Loki remained directly behind you once again, his hand resting on the small of your back. He was going to make damn sure he didn’t get separated from you this time. You smirked to yourself as Wanda walked by, hand in hand with Vision.

“Separation issues much?” The witch giggles.

“Hypocrite.” You growl, glancing back at Loki, “Ignore them.” You tell him.

“I already do.” He rolled his eyes.

At the hotel, you nearly had to fight for your life just to receive the room key as everyone crowded around the poor attendant at the front desk. When you finally obtained it you walked to Loki, who was kindly holding your bags.

“Ready?” You ask.

Before Loki could make some type of remark, Thor’s booming voice cut through the stiff air, “Brother! I hear we are short a room, would you like to stay with me? It would be just like when we were kids!”

Loki clenched his jaw in annoyance as you laughed at the older Odinson, “No you oaf! I found other arrangements.” He glares at his brother before looking back at you.

The blond god’s eyes darted between his brother and you, the woman standing next to him in confusion. You swore you could see the gears turning and the lightbulb appear over his head as he realized the situation. “Oh… Oh!” He looked at Loki with brotherly pride as he patted him on the shoulder, “It’s about time! Have fun brother! Be mindful of the guests in the other rooms.” You both flush slightly at his words before he walks away to join the group.

You and Loki break away from the group to find your room. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of your suitcase, the two of you walking in palpable silence.

Your eyes lit up as you opened the door to the room, the floor to ceiling window gave a generous view of the beach below.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Loki?” You ask as the god sets your bags down with a dramatic grunt. You knew the weight was practically nothing for him.

“It’s fine.” He speaks in a monotone voice.

“What’s wrong?” You turn around and sit on the bed in the middle of the room.

“Nothing, I’m just- I mean this is new and…” He stutters as you lay down on the king sized bed to stretch out.

Loki’s heart seemed to skip a few beats as he saw your vulnerable form laid out before him. One strap of your sundress fell down your shoulder and the skirt rode up your luscious thighs. His hands rested on his hips as he sighed in frustration. His hand ran down his face before brushing his tendrils of hair back.

“Loki,” You called out for him as you sat up, “You need to loosen up. It’s a vacation after all.”

“How?” He mumbles.

You stand from the bed and walk towards him, Loki’s body leaned into yours like a magnet as you reached him. Your hands ran up his covered biceps to the neckline of his shirt. Your hands found the top button and undid it. His strong hands rested on your hips in anticipation. Your fingers tangled in his inky curls that rested neatly on his shoulders before moving up to cup his flushed cheeks.

“However you want.” You say, never breaking eye contact with his piercing blue orbs.

Loki wasted no time as he pulled you in for a kiss. The room melted away as his lips finally met yours after all this time and teasing. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to his towering form. One of his hands remained on your waist as the other held the back of your head, digits tangling in your hair as he did so. Your head rushed as you got high on his lips, your bodies flush together, as they were meant to be.

You both took in a deep breath as you pulled away, his pupils were blown with lust and his hair was a mess. This man, this god, he was pure sex.

“Did that help?” You giggle, intertwining your fingers with his once again.

“It did.” He smirked, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, taking in the blissful moment.

The kiss resumed after your short, shared moment of silence. You found yourself pinned against the cold hotel wall and the dense body of a god as his hands roamed your figure. He gripped the skirt of your dress, lifting it up and brushing over your ass in the process. His lips were desperate for yours as his skilled tongue entered your mouth, exploring what was his. You held on tight for the ride, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt in the process. You broke the kiss and brushed the dark fabric off his broad shoulders.

“You’re going to get overheated if you wear clothes like this the whole time.” She reminds him, throwing the shirt on the bed behind them.

“Then let's stay in our room and wear nothing.” He retorts, lips trailing down your sensitive neck as he speaks. Every warm breath on your skin sent a shiver up your spine.

“Mmmm…” You groan, “But I wanna go to the beach.” You pout, driving him insane.

Loki leans down to grab your thighs gently so that he can hoist you up and carry you to the bed. You let out a small moan as your back met the soft mattress beneath. Loki crawled over you and straddled your body. His lips found new territory as he explored your collarbones and upper chest.

“Fine, a few trips to the beach can be done.” He groans, his lips ghosting the tops of your breasts, barely visible underneath the dress.

His hands ran up your soft thighs, finding their intended destination underneath your dress. You had a feeling that this would finally be happening after all this time, however, you did not expect it to happen immediately after you entered your room. Who were you to complain? This was what you fantasized about every night after he left you high and dry. No walking away this time.

Just as his talented fingers curled in the waistband of your thin, cotton panties, a dreaded knock was heard on the other side of the door. Loki didn’t jump away from you as he did many times before. He just raised his face from in between your breasts, he was fuming with anger after being so rudely interrupted from his interpretation of Valhalla.

“If I have to kill somebody, I swear-” He growled, his hands holding your hips.

“Wrap up whatever you guys are doing, we have a tour and I paid for everyone. Therefore, everyone is required to attend.” Tony’s arrogant tone rang on the other side. “Not to mention the private beach that I rented out for the party tonight.”

“We’ll be out soon, Tony.” You spoke up from your position under Loki. He just rolled his eyes and his body off of you.

You only heard muffled footsteps fade as Tony walked away. You sat up and looked at Loki who was sprawled out next to you on the white linen. His raven hair contrasted his pale features that were slightly flushed with arousal. The prominent tent in his pants almost made you feel sorry for him.

“We’ll pick it back up later, I promise.” You leaned down to kiss his cheek, his eyes remained trained on the white ceiling.

“What about this?” He motioned to his throbbing erection underneath the fabric.

“I’m sorry, Loki. Can you just put it off for a bit?” You try to reason with him.

He groaned as he sat up on the bed, “It’ll be torture. Especially if you keep wearing those dresses.”

You smirked as you opened your suitcase and grabbed a bikini, the emerald green one to be exact. “And if I wear this underneath it?” You tease.

“You’ll surely kill me.”

“Good.” You giggled and practically skipped to the attached bathroom to put it on underneath your sundress.

–

The whole team was waiting for you and Loki, a flood of embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. Their looks suggested that they had a slight idea on what you two were doing up there, or at least trying to do.

“This isn’t a honeymoon you guys.” Barton shook his head as he began to follow the tour guide who was showing the team around the resort.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, fidgeting with the strap of your dress. An action that Loki did not fail to notice.

You walked with the group, Loki on your left and Natasha on your right. You tried to look ahead and focus on the tour until the redhead nudged your arm.

“Too busy settling in?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop it.” You spoke between your teeth, making sure no one else heard.

“Did you get anywhere with it?” She continues pushing.

“It?” Loki acts offended on your other side, knowing that you were talking about him.

“I was trying to be discreet.” She rolls her eyes at the god.

“Either way it is none of your business.” He speaks with venom at your best friend.

“Hey! Leave it alone you two.” You growl.

“Apologies, darling.” He rests his hand on your back once again, giving you a sense of comfort.

“Yea, darling.” Natasha mocked him.

You eventually just went silent, hoping that they would take the hint that you were done with their bickering. You were not getting involved in confrontation on this vacation. Eventually, they both quieted down and walked next to you in silence.

The tour came to an end at the private beach that Tony had mentioned earlier. There was a bar, fully stocked and open for drinks. There were speakers for music and tiki torches for atmosphere, it looked like it was out of a movie.

The party would begin as the sun set, for now, it was time to swim. Everyone removes their loose covering clothes to reveal their swimwear. Everyone was prepared, besides Loki of course. He sat underneath one of the umbrellas on the beach, his sunglasses made it appear like he was reading his book that he brought. In reality, his eyes were on you, in that bikini. If any other men from the team got so much as within a foot from you, they would be sorry. You looked so happy as you splashed in the blue, salty water with your friends. Your smile made his stomach turn in the best way possible. He noticed your eyes looking back at him with concern every few minutes. Every time he gave you a nod of reassurance, as if he was saying, ‘Don’t worry about me, enjoy yourself.’ He was sweating under his clothes, however, he was too stubborn to admit that you were right.

As the golden sunset began to reflect on the calm waves, the party began. Still wet from the beach, you tied a white, chiffon sarong around your hips. The fabric barely did anything to cover your ocean kissed skin as you ordered your first drink of the night. You didn’t intend on being drunk tonight, you planned on keeping your promise to Loki, who was currently nursing a drink of his own.

You sauntered over to the secluded table where he sulked, noticing the bead of sweat on his brow as you sat across from him.

“What did I tell you?” You spoke in an ‘I told you so’ tone.

“I know, you were right, I was wrong, is that what you wanted to hear?” He leaned back in his chair, unbuttoning another button on the black shirt. The upper half of his torso was now on display for you. His pale skin shone in the rays of the sunset with a small sheen of sweat. You admired him, his godly form that you wanted to learn every inch of.

You laughed victoriously, “Yes.” You smirked and took another sip of your pina colada.

The music blasted through the speakers, and after you finished your drink, you found yourself relaxed enough to dance with everyone else, barefoot in the warm sand. After every song, you went over to Loki, asking him to join you, he turned you down every time. He was slightly hurting your feelings right now, eventually you stopped checking up on him.

After two songs, Loki noticed your lack of attention towards him. When he walked towards the party from his secluded corner he saw you and your friends around the bar, laughing freely, some clearly more intoxicated than others. He noticed that Rogers was a little too close for comfort as you spoke.

“You lick the margarita salt off of someone, usually on their chest, and then you take the shot. After that the person who you licked the salt off of will have a lime in their mouth. Immediately after you down the shot, you take the lime from their mouth with your mouth, no hands.” You explained body shots to the group around you as Loki approached from behind, placing a hand on your waist.

“What are you talking about?” His curiosity peaked as he overheard the last part of your explanation.

“Body shots.” You answered, motioning for the bartender to pour a shot of tequila. He could see your mischievous look, he feared that look, “Wanna try? I’ll teach you.” You smirk with confidence.

Multiple gasps and ‘Ooohs’ feel from the small crowd surrounding the two of you. Loki’s eyes went wide, did you have no shame?

“And who will be taking the shot?” He asks, you smiled in excitement, happy that he didn’t turn you down immediately.

“I’ve had my fill for the night.” You state, handing him the full shot glass, “You, however, need to loosen up some more.”

Everyone leaned in around the bar, expecting a show. And you and Loki were about to perform for them shamelessly. They whispered and snickered as they awaited his answer.

Loki sighed, trying to hide his excitement, “Fine.”

Drunken cheers motivated you to sit on the bar, taking the small bowl of margarita salt in your hand. He was not even the slightest bit ready for what was about to happen as you leaned back, your eyes told him to come closer.

Loki, who was still seen as shy by the rest of the team, approached you cautiously. Your foot hooked around the back of his knee, your eyes were sultry, flashbacks from earlier rushed in his mind. Some of your teammates, including Bruce and Steve, turned away, seemingly uncomfortable at your tantalizing display of suggestive exhibitionism. To be fair, it did look rather pornographic to spectators.

“First…” You start, Loki’s eyes are only focused on you, “You’ll lick the salt from here.” You explain, sprinkling a trail of salt between your breasts, his breath hitching in his throat as he watches you intently, “After that, you will quickly take the tequila shot and then…” You pick up a lime from behind the bar, your body on display as you lean back, even the bartender was entertained, “You will take the lime from my mouth with yours, understand?”

Words failed to form for the god, who could only nod with his eyes filled with awe and lust.

You giggled as you saw Pepper smack Tony upside the head as he tried to explain himself, “Good, whenever you’re ready, mischief.” You shoot him a wink before placing the lime in your mouth and leaning back on the bar, propping your body up with your elbows.

All eyes were on Loki now, there were many men here tonight who wished they were in his place, yet here he was, your body offered for him like the god he truly is. He leaned forward, one hand on either side of your torso, his right hand held the shot glass that sat on the polished wooden bar. His face found its way between your breasts, just as he was earlier in the day before being so rudely interrupted. The crowd was too shocked now to even attempt to stop the not so subtle erotic display. You gasped as his tongue found the trail of salt between your breasts, right above your bikini top. Your hand briefly held the back of your head as he trailed up your chest to the dreaded end of the salt trail. He sat up straight to properly take the tequila shot, wasting no time to take the lime as the liquid burned his throat. His lips briefly brushed against yours and he sucked on the lime before taking it from your mouth completely, you involuntarily clenched your thighs to relieve the throbbing between your legs.

Loki stood straight, taking the lime from his mouth and throwing it aside as everyone around you hollered and clapped in drunken amusement. Natasha gave you a proud thumbs up from a few feet away. Loki returned to your side, helping you sit up and lifting you off the bar. He held you close so that he could whisper in your ear.

“Can we return to our room, please?” He practically begged.

You smirked and kissed him on the cheek, “I was hoping you’d ask.”

The crowd wanted more from you two as they chanted for an encore, believe it or not, you and Loki were the most sober people there. You both walked towards the hotel, making sure you grabbed your shoes and sundress that were discarded earlier. You walked hand and hand with Loki back to the hotel, laughing in the moonlight as you walked barefoot with him.

You swore it was the longest walk of your life as you finally made it to the hotel lobby and the elevator. Immediately after the doors closed, Loki pounced on you as if you were his prey, your hand gripping the bar as he kissed you passionately, fully aware that the elevator could stop prematurely and you two could be exposed at any moment. After your little show on the beach, however, it turned you on even more.

As the door made a ‘ding’ that cut through the humid air of arousal, Loki lifted you bridal style and walked the short distance to your shared room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, swinging your bare feet slightly in giddy anticipation. You recalled Barton’s words from earlier, and for now, you were about to treat this trip as your own little celebration honeymoon. You deserved it after all.

Using his magic, Loki swung the door to the hotel room wide open, slamming against the wall as it announced your arrival.

“Loki! Tony will be pissed if you put a hole in the wall!” You playfully scolded the god who currently held you.

“Darling, for once in your midgardian life, can you please not worry about something?” He joked, but you knew he was serious deep down.

“Then fuck my worries away, mischief.”

Loki placed one more chaste kiss on your lips before he dropped you on the bed, causing you to let out a grunt. He circled the mattress before standing at the end of the bed and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes filled with determined lust. You clenched your legs as you sat up slightly to appreciate his little strip tease.

“Oh… I plan on it.” He smirked, throwing the shirt aside and crawling towards you on the bed. The only light in the room was from the moonlight that shone through the open window. It reflected off his features and made him appear as if he was glowing before you. He gently grabbed your arm and pulled you up to sit with him. You understood the unspoken words from his cerulean eyes as you reached behind you and untied the bikini. Loki’s eyes never strayed as they studied the new territory of skin that had been exposed. His hands went to your hips to untie your sarong, his eyes moving from your breasts to your eyes in the dark, “May I?” He asks for your permission.

“Of course.” You sit up on your knees so that the light fabric can be easily removed. The only covering that remained on your body was the dark green bikini bottoms that tie around your hips and slipped graciously between your thighs.

“You’re so beautiful…” He pulls you onto his lap, lips trailing feathery kisses along your collarbone, “So perfect.” He praises.

Your fingers tangle in those soft raven locks as you pressed your core against his reawakening erection underneath his trousers. He couldn’t hold back a whimper, a fucking whimper, for you as he felt the wetness through the layers of restricting fabric. He supported your lower back as he laid you down, his hips finding their home between your spread legs. He finally had you, no interruptions, no running away, you were his now.

His fingers ghosted along your ticklish sides, you arched into his touch and whined out for him in embarrassing desperation. Loki let out a deep, raspy laugh as his mouth descended lower and lower, until his teeth were biting at the strings of your bottoms. The slight taste of ocean salt stung his tongue in the best way possible as he undid the strings with his teeth. The sight was erotic, your heartbeat drummed viciously in your chest as he kept eye contact. Your head was thrown back as he untied the other side in the exact same way. Could he have just slipped them down your legs easily? Yes. However, this was more entertaining, the sight made you so wet that he didn’t need to give you any more foreplay to prepare you for his cock. But Loki was a giver and a pathetic pussy pleaser, you couldn’t stop him from going down on you if you even wanted to. And you did not intend on pausing his mouth’s journey to the apex of your thighs.

He placed one kiss to your covered mound before slipping the fabric from your wet cunt, he threw it aside, the clothing item lost in the dark until the morning. He licked a wet stripe up your soaked slit to test the waters. He smirked into your pussy as your hips bucked toward him, back arched off the bed. Needless to say, he was more than pleased with your reaction as his silver tongue slipped into your opening.

He skillfully continued his pleasurable oral assault on your cunt, your shaky fingers tangled in his black strands that were bobbing playfully between your thighs. His large hands held up the backs of your thighs so that he could taste you better. His tongue found its way back up to your sensitive clit, teasing it with slow circles before picking up the pace. He would alternate between tight, steady circles and closing his lips around your clit and sucking graciously.

“Fuck, Loki! You’re s-so good baby.” You spoke praises to the god in between your thighs between desperate moans and clenched teeth. Your words encouraged his fingers to find your soaked entrance as his tongue pressed flat against your clit.

You gasped as you felt his index and middle fingers breach your wet opening, back arching in need for release. Your pussy fluttered around his digits as they pumped and curled against that spot, the spot that no other lover had come close to reaching before now. Thor’s words about being mindful of the other hotel guests were long forgotten as moans nearly turned into screams. Thankfully, the other guests on your floor were your friends and teammates, and as far as you knew, they were still partying at the beach.

One of his hands went to hold your hips in place as you were moving too much for his taste. Loki was a god on a mission, a mission to make you cum as hard as you could. And damn him, he was about to succeed. He groaned, eating you out like a man starved and you were his first taste of sustenance in years. He was getting off on this immensely, his filthy late night fantasies were finally coming true.

“Loki… I can’t i’m- gonna… AH!” You screamed out for him, your hips raising off the sheets as his mouth eagerly followed. You came on his face shortly after your failed attempt at a warning. Loki sucked up every drop that leaked from your sweet pussy, not wasting a single drop of your nectar.

Your thighs shook on either side of his head as he continued, pushing you to unbearable overstimulation. You pushed back on his forehead and tried to breathe.

“Stop. Sensitive.” Was all you could stay, thankfully he took the sign and stopped. If it was up to him, he would spend the rest of the vacation between your legs.

He graced your shaking body with gentle, loving kisses, pulling you back to reality. Your hands searched for his body, your eyes blurry from all the pleasurable tears that you had just shed. He reached out for you, one hand held his form above yours as the other held your hand, leaving chaste kisses on your knuckles before you went to caress his face, appreciating every dark and beautiful feature of the god.

“Love, are you okay?” He asks in concern, words failed to leave your lips properly since your orgasm.

“That was… I don’t even have words I-” He cut off your stuttering with a kiss, your taste prominent on his lips.

“Do you wish to stop?” He asks, assuming you were too out of it for anything else.

Your lazy eyes snapped open as your hands went to rest on his belt, “No, please, I want all of you.” You begged, fingers beginning to fidget with the metal buckle.

“Then you will have me.” He responds.

Just as you were about to start working on his pants, they magically disappeared before your very eyes, thanks to Loki’s magic of course.

Needless to say, he was huge. You had felt his cock before, pressed up against your ass or lower abdomen in compromising positions that he had put you in on multiple occasions. Then, you were separated by layers of clothes. Now, you both were completely bare for each other, in your most vulnerable state. The heat of arousal seeped off your body, he could feel it from the very small space between you two.

Your hand curiously brushed against the head of his dick, the slit leaking precum that slightly lubricated the rest of his shaft.

“You’re huge.” You mindlessly breathe out in admiration.

Loki lets out his iconic breathy giggle at your words, “Are you sure you want me love? The destructful god of mischief?”

“The only thing you ever destroyed was my heart when you kept turning away from me after all of your sexual teasing.” You tell him, lifting your legs around his waist to pull his hips closer to yours.

“I’m sorry darling, I never meant to. I was just…” He paused, looking away from your eyes for a split second before your hands gently cupped his face, pulling him back to you.

“What is it?” You ask.

“I was too scared to lose you.” He admits, blue eyes flooding with tears.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m here with you. Forever and always.” He leans to touch your forehead with his in a moment of pure romance.

He pulls back slightly, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something important. His lips close and press together, he flicks his dark locks over his pale shoulder before fully settling between your thighs. His hand held the base of his cock as he ran it up and down your wet pussy teasing and asking permission at the same time.

“May I have you this evening, love?” He asks for your consent once more.

“This evening and every evening that lay before us.” You answer.

Loki chuckles in amusement, “Good answer.”

A synchronized gasp left both of your lips simultaneously as the tip of his cock slipped into your entrance. He held you tight, as if you were about to flutter away underneath him. Your fingernails scratched down his shoulder blades, little did you know, Loki had a thing for pain.

He didn’t hold back as his hips found a steady rhythm so that he could properly pump his cock inside you repeatedly. Your hands were all over him, feeling every scar, muscle, and hair that decorated his body. One hand of his held onto the soft flesh of your right thighs as the other played with your breasts that were bouncing in time with every thrust.

“Loki- Faster!” You demanded underneath him, spreading your legs wider to give him more room.

“Does my precious girl like it when- fuck… when I fuck her like a slut?” He had to pause for a second as he sped up the pace of his thrusts. He perfectly practiced self control to keep himself from spilling inside of you too early as your cunt clenched around him.

“YES! Oh Loki… fuck me like the slut that I am.” Your eyes opened to meet his blue-green ones that were darkened with lust and arousal.

“You’re my slut, no other will ever touch you. You. Are. Mine.” He accentuates every word with a deep thrust, driving his cock deep inside your core.

He had dreamed of this, touched himself to the thought of claiming you. He mentally cursed himself for taking so damn long to do so. You were such a willing lover for him, for a god. With every thrust, every kiss, and every dirty word that he growled in your ear you knew that he fucked like a god, the true god that he is.

His fingers found their way back between your legs as they rubbed against your clit with the determination to make you cum around him. Your pussy leaked your mixed arousal onto the hotel sheets below, a thin sheen of sweat covered both of your bodies, causing both of you to shine in the moonlight. This night was perfect, just you and the man that you had longed for all this time.

“I’m close, come with me, cum all over my cock.” He breathes out as his thrusts become sloppy and uneven.

Your whole body tensed and your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as his long thrusts turned into more of a grinding motion. The feeling of his pubic mound grinding against your clit along with his fingers precisely circling it pushed you over the edge.

“LOKI!” You screamed out his name in orgasmic bliss as your pussy clenched around his cock, causing him to fall over the edge with you. Ropes of his hot cum coated your walls, a sloppy kiss was shared in the moment. The room seemed to melt away as you held each other, coming down from both of your powerful orgasms. He laid on top of you, careful to not put his full weight on you as his face buried itself in your neck, taking in your natural scent.

In his state of bliss he murmured something into your skin, so quiet you could barely hear. But you knew what he said, you had imagined those words falling like spring rain from his lips many times. You knew them all too well.

“I love you.”

He immediately regrets it as he sits up, intending to move away from you as he pulls his softening cock out of your warm, welcoming tunnel. You crawl onto him as he laid on the bed, your silence scared him, although you clearly weren't revolted as you rested your head on his chest, admiring the glistening ocean outside the window before looking back up at him.

“I love you Loki, so much. More than you could even imagine.” You confess, showing that you reciprocate his feelings.

He chuckles with love at your answer, even he couldn’t hide the love drunk smile that adorned his face, “Is that so?” He asks, playfully.

“It is, it always has been.” You tell him, propping your tired body up enough to place another soft kiss on his lips before you fall asleep with him. Wrapped up in white, cotton sheets and pure love for one another.

–

As you sat in the hotel lobby with Loki the next morning, innocently enjoying your complimentary breakfast, you noticed a few strange stares from your fellow teammates, while others refused to look at you all together.

“Why are they staring at us like that?” You quietly ask the god across the small round table from you.

“Well darling, it may be the fact that you sat your pretty little ass up on the bar last night and asked me to lick salt from between your breasts in a whorish display of alcoholism.” He answered nonchalantly.

Your cheeks slightly blushed pink at his words, perhaps you did take things a bit too far due to your need for Loki. Before you could answer a feminine hand took a blueberry off of your plate.

“That…” Natasha started next to you, eating the blueberry before continuing, “And the fact that you two were fucking so loud last night that Tony received a formal complaint from the front desk.”

You glanced cautiously at Tony across the room. The billionaire met your eyes with a threatening gaze.

“Sorry.” You mumble, sure that you would die from embarrassment.

The redheaded spy laughs, “Well, you both certainly needed to get that out of your system. However, Tony said that if it happens again, Loki will have to move in with Thor for the rest of the trip.” She points over her shoulder to the blond god, who waved in return and gave his brother a proud thumbs up.

“We’ll be more considerate next time, agent. Thank you.” Loki replies in your place with a hand over his heart in fake innocence.

With your face buried in your hands, you hid your face at the table. “Who was even around last night?” You ask, barely audible as you raised your head.

“Some of us go to bed early, y'know.” Steve replies as he walks by with a coffee cup in his hand.

“I expect no less of Rogers.” Loki rolled his eyes before landing on yours as he pulled your hands down from your flushed face, “Now, how about that trip to the beach?” He suggests.

“Will sex be involved?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Most likely.” He smirks.

#loki #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#marvel #loki smut #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki au #mcu loki #fanfic #fanfiction #loki fic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #l

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mrderofcr0ws · 2 months

Text

ROTTEN FRUIT

summary: aegon targaryen survives the attempt on his life at rooks rest. burned and broken, he suffers agony there is little relief from. with each day that he grows stronger, aemond lurks ever closer. his brother is hell come to claim him for the sin of being born their father’s son and all those that he has committed to cope— but something else comes for him, too. someone else.

warnings: 18+, hotd season 2 spoilers, violence, abuse, humiliation, threatening language, suicidal thoughts and thoughts of self-harm, light targcest.

word count: 4,000+

Rot.

The incense burning by his bedside meant to calm him only reminded him of rot.

The lavender and jasmine wafting his way turned his stomach. He could recall so vividly how — alongside the smell of it — the stench of his father’s decaying body burned his nose. The incense had only made it worse. The sweet smell of flora turned pungent when paired with the aroma of Viserys Targaryen’s walking corpse.

His father was dead now.

In his stead, he lay broken and decaying in the very same bed with the very same fragrance floating around his head.

He stared at the ceiling unblinking. His vision was blurry. Milk of the poppy had lulled him to sleep hours prior but the pain woke him. As he stared up at the intricate designs on the ceiling, he wondered how many times his father had done the same.

Had Viserys Targaryen wished they had let him die sooner than he had as Aegon now did?

Everything hurt.

It all hurt.

It always hurt.

Worse and worse each day, it seemed.

The burns on his face itched and itched. They itched so badly that the Grand Maester wrapped Aegon’s hands in bandages so that he could not rip at his skin. Every breath sent a sharp pain through his chest. He’d suffered a broken rib— many, actually. Who knew how many for sure. A broken femur, too, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst of it was the pain in his heart.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see it. The fire. The fall. Him. His brother set on destroying him to ash and bone. He could recall the way his chest swelled with relief upon seeing his brother's eyepatched face.

How quickly it turned to fear.

“Dracarys!”

He hated that word. He had always hated that word. That word held too much power. Aegon had never liked power. He was afraid of power.

Burns and broken bones were the price to pay for power.

Power he didn’t want.

To be bathed in fire was an inescapable baptism. Except, it had not cleansed him. It only rose the rot that festered below his skin to the surface for all to see. The burns on his face stripped him of whatever beauty he had had— if he had any. The burns on his side stripped him of autonomy. The broken leg stripped him of any means of escape.

Perhaps his broken leg was the worst of it, come to think about it…

Even with his eyes open as he stared up at the ceiling, he could recall it all too vividly. He swallowed around the tightness in his throat. He could hear Sunfyre screeching even now. He could still feel the acid of his dragon’s boiling blood spray across him and worsen what fire had seared.

Aegon could not recall what it felt like to hit the ground like a meteor falling from the sky— but he could remember the terror of watching the ground close in on him.

Sunfyre had done so well. Aegon was alive because of his beloved golden boy. He had blocked the worst of the flames with his wings. He had thrashed in the air to keep the flames from catching worse to his rider's body. He hit the earth belly-first so as to not crush his rider like a grape.

Aegon bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes. Grief made him ache in the very marrow of his bones. Sunfyre. He wanted to see Sunfyre. He wanted to know if his beloved mount had made it. He needed to see him again.

He needed to apologize.

If Aegon could take it all back, he would. Not just Rook’s Rest, either. He would take back all of it. Every last second of his life, he wished he could take it all back. He wished he had never been born.

If he had never been born, no one would have to suffer.

His little son’s face flashed behind his eyelids and a sob escaped him. He opened his eyes in an attempt to rid his mind of the boy. He couldn’t bear to think about his baby now.

If Aegon hadn’t been born, his children need not suffer.

His son never would’ve died because he’d’ve not suffered a life at all if Aegon hadn’t been born.

He’d lost them both, hadn’t he?

His son and his dragon.

Aegon held few things near and dear. Very, very few things. There was little to live for— and yet he’d lived for his little four treasures. His son had been one. His dragon had been another. His wife and daughter were the remaining two.

Truly.

They were the only two that remained.

They were the only thing left of his heart after all this. They were the only reason his lungs took in air and his heart pumped in his chest…even though he wished it would not.

He wanted them now.

Licking his chapped, burned lips he tilted his head down to catch sight of the door. Across the room, it taunted him. It was a reminder of all that awaited him that he could not even begin to reach for. He wished they would come to them now, his wife and his daughter. He could not call for them even if he tried. He could not call for anyone. His voice was not strong enough.

He was entirely and completely alone.

As the seconds crawled on, his pain crept in. Each breath was a searing pain that made him groan. The burns on his skin began to sting and itch. His leg throbbed so intensely he figured it may burst. His head raged with pain that made him squeeze his eyes shut and bear his teeth. His stomach gnawed at itself. It had been so long since he’d eaten a proper meal.

If he ever left this bed, he’d be nothing but skin and bones.

A husk of the man he’d once been.

A ghost.

A walking corpse just like his father.

The door opened with a creak and Aegon felt relief. He whimpered helplessly like a wounded animal. He could not bring himself to open his eyes. The pain was too blinding. It was too white hot and consuming. He wanted nothing more than for it to end.

Whether it was milk of the poppy that brought relief or a knife in his hands so he may be done with all this bother— he simply needed it to end.

“Is the pain severe?”

Aegon’s heart stopped in his chest.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe. His blood had turned to ice in his veins. His pain was forgotten as he met the singular blue eye of his brother.

His killer.

Aemond.

“Yes,” Aegon muttered, his voice pathetic and weak. Hoarse and gravelly. He sounded nothing like himself.

“Mn,” Aemond hummed, stepping closer to his bedside.

Aegon tensed instinctively which shot pain through every nerve in his body. He gasped almost inaudibly as he tilted his head back to fight a cry. Oh, how he wanted to cry. He wanted to cry and scream and shriek.

Help.

Help me.

Help me. Help. Help me.

Aemond Targaryen had killed Aegon Targaryen.

He’d killed the pieces that mattered most, at least.

Aemond had killed his son.

With his own hands or not, Jaehaerys’ death was through fault of Aemond. Whether he meant it or not, it had been his actions that led to Aegon’s little son’s head being cut from his neck.

Aemond had killed his dragon.

Aegon knew not — truly — whether Sunfyre lived or died. No news had come to him yet. He was sure they hid the truth from him. Yet, there would be nothing to hide if Sunfyre had lived.

He must be dead.

He must be dead and Aemond was the one to kill him.

Aemond had killed him.

All the parts that he had liked about himself— tried to like about himself were gone. Melted to the muscle. He was charred as black as coal in some spots and as red as raw meat in others.

His face.

His hair.

His arm and leg.

His cock.

Him.

He had seen himself only once in a small hand mirror. Once was all he could bear. To see himself the way he was now had made him want to break the glass and shove the shards into his eyes. Into his throat. Into his wrists. Straight into his heart.

He may as well be dead even if he drew breath now.

He was rotten fruit.

Past his expiration date, he rotted more and more each day from the outside straight to the inside.

“What do you remember?” Aemond asked lowly. His voice was like a knife to Aegon’s throat.

“Nothing…” Aegon whispered. He opened his eyes and looked up at his brother who loomed like The Stranger over his bed.

Everything.

I remember everything.

Everything.

“I remember nothing,” Aegon promised weakly.

I remember everything.

Aemond reached above Aegon’s head to rest his hand on the headboard. Aegon turned his face away as Aemond drew closer. He shook his head. He closed his eyes to spare himself the horror of seeing the malice in his brother's only eye.

“I warm your throne until you are well enough to take it once more,” Aemond whispered solemnly.

I don’t want it.

I never wanted it.

Take it.

Take it. Take it. Take it.

Aemond sighed as he took in the sight of his brother, shaking his head. “You must regain your strength, my King. The Realm needs you.”

Aegon cried out in agony. His eyes shot open as Aemond pressed the Small Council marble that belonged to him into his burns. He groaned breathlessly as Aemond leaned into him, pressing his arm into the burns on his belly.

“Agh!” Aegon choked, tears dripping from his eyes. “Please— plea…please stop.”

“Shhh, shhh…” Aemond whispered. He smiled fondly at his brother but it did not meet his eyes.

Aegon struggled as Aemond grabbed his burned, bandaged hand. He made Aegon grip the marble. He winced as his mangled fingers were curled around the cool surface of the stone. He blinked rapidly, tears rushing down his face.

“Why?” Aegon dared to ask. His voice shook in his throat and he choked on his own breath. “Why would you have not let me go then at The Sept to flee…only to torture me for it now?”

Aemond stilled at the question. He tilted his head and pursed his lips. He seemed to enjoy this question. He savored the answer on his tongue like candy. It made a chill trickle down Aegon’s spine. He did not want to know the answer.

The answer itself was pain.

“It’s yours,” Aemond whispered under his breath. He pressed on Aegon’s hand and drove the marble harder into his burns, prompting a helpless cry from the elder. “You are the first-born son of the King and it’s always been yours.”

Aegon squeezed his eyes shut as his brother’s lips pressed to his forehead. He whimpered as Aemond kissed his burns. Lightly and repeatedly, he kissed Aegon’s brow.

“Rhaenyra? Myself? Helaena? Even Daeron…” Aemond shook his head and pulled back to look down at his brother. “As children of Viserys Targaryen there was only one of us who ever had any claim to the throne. And it had always been you.”

“That’s why I dragged you by your hair back to our mother.” Aemond hissed, his fingers curling around the roots of Aegon’s hair. “So you could claim what was rightfully yours despite never being worthy of it.”

Aegon bared his teeth and grabbed Aemond’s wrist with his good hand. He dug his nails into his brother's skin and groaned through his teeth.

“And you think you are?” Aegon scoffed through his agony.

“I’ve always been,” Aemond said venomously.

“Perhaps before,” Aegon agreed. He grunted as Aemond let his hair go. He still had his burned hand trapped around the marble that Aemond was crushing against his chest. “But not now.”

“You are the worst kind of monster, Aemond. You prey upon your own flesh and blood like a rabid wolf. Our nephew. My son. Now even me, too.”

“Who will be next? My wife? My daughter? Our mother? Or will you drive the damn dagger you’ve stolen from me through my heart and finish it now?” Aegon hissed through clenched teeth as he tried to get up.

Aemond forced him down into the bed. Grappling as best he could, Aegon tried to claw at him. He groaned as Aemond squeezed the burns on his arm. Hissing swears at each other, nails dug into wounded flesh. Aegon tried to rip off his brother's eyepatch and dig his fingers into the scar on his face.

The marble fell onto the carpeted floor with a dull thud as they struggled.

“Get away from him…”

Aegon and Aemond stilled at the sound of her voice.

He blinked away tears to see her clearly. His breath was rapid in his lungs at the sight of her. He could’ve wept like a baby.

Helaena.

“Get out.” She whispered, pointing to the door without looking back at it. Her eyes were as misty and far away as they always were, but her balled fist at her side was evidence enough to show her anger.

Aemond spared Aegon a glance before stepping back. He departed without a word. When the door clicked shut, Aegon sobbed. Covering his eyes with his good hand, he sobbed and sobbed.

The bed sank under her weight as she crawled onto it. She nuzzled against his good side and placed her hand over his chest. Aegon turned his head towards her and wept into the warmth of her neck. She kissed his forehead with a feather-light delicacy.

Her kisses were medicine to him.

“He won’t hurt you again,” Helaena murmured against what was left of his hair.

Aegon felt the tension in his muscles dissipate. As her fingers laced through his hair so gently it made tingles run across his skin, he was calm. As calm as he could be without milk of the poppy dulling his senses.

“You know this for certain.” It wasn’t a question.

Helaena nodded and tilted her head down to meet his eyes. “I do.”

Aegon believed her.

He was inclined to believe everything she said. He had doubted her for so long. Her strangeness was much more than ramblings. She knew. She had always known. Everything. All of it. She had dreamed it. She had seen it.

Aegon believed her faithfully.

After the death of their son, he had no other choice. She had warned him about the rats. She confessed that she was afraid and he should’ve listened. He shouldn’t ve trusted her. Truth was that Aegon always listened but he’d never learned to trust her…dreams. Whatever they were.

If he had listened to her then maybe — just maybe — Jaehaerys would be with them now.

He would’ve given anything for his son back.

He’d hung every rat catcher in the fucking city for the loss of his son because hanging himself was not an option.

“I’m so sorry, Helaena,” Aegon murmured as she spread the salve over his burns.

She hated to see him in pain. She had retrieved the salve from the bedside table that the Grand Maester used to soothe the skin and applied it to his face to soothe the itch. She had done this many times before.

She visited him often.

It was one reason why he began to ween off milk of the poppy. He wanted to be able to recall these moments with his wife. Her tenderness. Her care. Her devotion.

Her love.

He needed it more than ever.

He needed her more than ever.

“Do not,” Helaena said softly. Her voice was always so dreamy but right now it was rough around the edges. She met his eyes and shook her head. “I’ve told you before, we cannot change anything even if we wish to.”

Aegon swallowed around the tightness in his throat. His dreamer knew all. His dreamer had seen it. His dreamer knew, too, that there was no escaping it.

She had known the boy would die.

She knew there was nothing she could do to stop it for it had not come to her clearly. Very little of what she dreamed ever came clearly. It was always abstract. It was never linear.

Aemond losing his eye.

Meyles bursting through the floor on the day they’d been crowned King and Queen.

The death of their little son…

Helaena had seen it all at one time or another. In a dream. In a memory. In a fleeting thought. Never concrete. Always slipping through her fingers like sand.

A blessing; mayhaps, to be able to see what happens before it does.

A curse, too, for there was no way for her to navigate it.

Truthfully, there was no way to fully understand it.

But he believed her now.

“Did you know?” Aegon dared to ask, his voice a whisper in his throat.

Helaena said nothing. Carefully, she leaned in to kiss the burned, tender corner of his mouth. When she pulled back, he could see the sorrow in her eyes.

She knew all.

She’d seen it all.

“Aemond…” she stopped herself before she started. Biting her lip, she shook her head.

Aegon exhaled lowly. She did know. He knew not if it were a relief to have her know or if it hurt worse. The worst thing about believing Helaena’s dreams was accepting there were no ways to stop them.

Perhaps, then, her knowing was a relief. If she knew he would end up this way, it was a testament to her devotion toward him. She chose to stuck by him now. She need not tend to him. There were Maesters for that. She need not worry for him. Their mother did enough of that. She need not spend any time at all with him. Larys would creep in even when he was most unwanted.

But she did.

She did all of it.

And he loved her fiercely for it.

Aegon brought his fingers to her chin and clasped it gently. She came willing as he tilted her head down. He placed a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth.

Salvation.

The pain faded into the background as she kissed him. She hadn’t needed to. He would’ve settled for one— but she pressed her lips right back onto his when he tried to pull away. Tenderly, they kissed. His arm hooked around her and he embraced her against his good side.

He truly, truly loved her.

His odd, clumsy younger sister.

His gorgeous, gentle wife.

His kind, curious Queen.

The loving, attentive mother of his babies.

As they pulled away from the kiss, Aegon looked into her eyes. She stared right back at him. It made his heart swell. Helaena so rarely held eye contact with anyone— but he wasn’t just anyone. He was her brother. He was her husband. He was the father of her babies. They could say so much without saying anything at all. He knew her like the back of his hand.

“I miss him…” He admitted it to her like a sin.

They spoke little about their boy despite Jaehaerys always being on their minds.

Helaena hesitated to meet his eyes. Her breath stilled in her chest. The look on his face made her eyes well with tears. He tried so hard to remain stoic but his lips trembled. A soft, weak cry escaped him as he thought of their boy.

“Where is Jaehaera?” He asked before she could say anything at all about their boy. He raised his good hand to wipe his cheeks and cleared his throat. “Is she well?”

“I think so,” Helaena whispered. She, too, wiped at her eyes. Sniffling, she nodded her head. “She misses you.”

Aegon couldn’t help but smile. To know his daughter missed him was like salve to his soul. He closed his eyes and conjured her face in his mind. She looked so much like him. Her smile. Her nose. Those tiny ears.

Jaehaerys had been his mother's son.

Jaehaera was her father's daughter.

“I will bring her to you if you wish to see her. She asks for you all the time. She does not understand why she cannot come read with you.” Helaena frowned, stroking his silvery wisps of hair.

“No.” Aegon refused. His voice was firm and his expression was hardened now. He met his wife’s eyes but ultimately looked away.

“You fear you’ll scare her.”

Aegon closed his eyes. He could only nod. Pathetic and afraid, he only nodded.

He was afraid to scare her.

He was no longer the father she knew. No more young-faced Aegon who made silly expressions to make her laugh. No sweet-smiled daddy that tucked her into bed each night and sang her to sleep.

He was what she’d be afraid of at night if she saw him now— and she wouldn’t be able to run to him for he was the monster.

“She will not be afraid of you,” Helaena whispered. She reached for Aegon’s hand and stroked his knuckles. “Let me bring her to you. It will make you feel better. It’ll make her feel better.”

Aegon said nothing.

But then he nodded.

His stomach churned and his throat was scorching from how dry it was. His heart was hammering in his chest. Hard enough he could feel it. Loud enough he could hear it. He wished it would stop. Just for a moment. Just for a moment so he could find his bearings.

As the door creaked open, Aegon struggled to keep the worry off his face as she cautiously approached. Sitting up in bed covered in bandages and burns, he must’ve looked frightening to his daughter.

His only daughter.

His only child now.

She was a sweet sight. He fought not to cry at the sight of her. Holding her mother's hand, Jaehaera came around to his bedside. Helaena kneeled beside it and ran a gentle hand over their daughter's head. She looked from the young girl towards Aegon, whose expression was full of heartache.

He scared her.

The sight of him had to have scared her.

He feared so deeply the sight of him scared her. His baby. His blood. His heart. His truest, dearest love.

He did not want to scare her…

“Daddy?” Jaehaera asked in a whisper as she stood on her tippy toes. Her little hands touched the edge of his bed, inching towards his bandaged hand that rested there.

Aegon spoke softly, gently, sweetly. It was his hope that his voice would comfort her if his appearance did not.

“Hello, my darling.”

Jaehaera looked up at him. Her face was pinched with confusion. With hurt. She was young but smart like her mother. His injuries were bad. By the look on his little daughter's face, she could tell he must’ve been in pain.

“Ouch.” She murmured, pointing to his face.

“Ouch, indeed.” Aegon agreed, nodding his head.

Jaehaera turned her head and looked at her mother. Helaena wiped tears off her cheeks and tried to smile. With a trembling breath, Jaehaera started to cry, too. Seeing her parents in distress affected her deeply. As her mother cried, she began to cry.

“Oh, baby…” Helaena whispered, picking the small girl up.

Aegon winced as he tried to sit up more. A sharp pain shot through his ribs like a spear. It winded him. It frustrated him. He wanted nothing more than to get up and comfort his wife and daughter. He wanted to hold them in his arms.

“He is hurt, Mummy.” Jaehaera cried into her hands. She sniffled uncontrollably as she sobbed.

“Your father is okay, sweetheart,” Helaena whispered, trying her best to console her.

“Come,” Aegon beckoned softly. He extended his good arm and waved her over. “Jaehaera, come sit with daddy.”

Helaena placed Jaehaera down on the end of the bed as she turned and reached out. Aegon couldn’t help but smile. The small girl crawled across the duvet toward him. He reached his hand out to wipe her tears off her cheeks.

“Do not cry, my love. There is no need to cry.” Aegon said softly, tucking loose hair behind her ear.

“But you are hurt, daddy…” Jaehaera frowned at him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Does it scare you?” Aegon asked gently, his lips twitching with a frown.

She shook her head and his heart lightened. He realized then that she truly was distraught because he was injured so severely. It warmed his heart. As much as he wanted to take her worry away, it was endearing that she felt so deeply. She was like her mother in that way.

Perhaps like him, too, though he’d never admit it.

Aegon fought a wince as she nuzzled into his side. Despite there being no burns where she laid her head and cuddled up to, his ribs were still tender. He didn’t have the heart to ask her to move. He even shook his head at Helaena who reached out to move her.

“You, too.” Aegon requested. He smiled faintly and flicked his head. “Come on.”

Helaena hesitated only for a moment. She could not deny him— or herself. As she climbed onto the bed, she sat close to him. Her arm carefully hooked around him and her chest acted as a pillow. He smiled as he heard her heart thump behind her ribs. Such a comforting noise.

They were comforting.

Sitting in bed with his wife and his daughter was more healing than any medicine the Grand Maester could’ve fed him. He could not only relax in the comfort of his wife’s arms but he could let his guard down. Stroking his daughter's silver hair, he felt entirely whole.

Everything that mattered to him was in his hands now. His wife. His daughter. They were the blood in his veins, the heart in his chest, and the air in his lungs. Whispering stories to his daughter as his wife's fingers laced through what was left of his hair, he knew it was not possible.

To have made something as beautiful as Jaehaera — who was so sweet and so pure — he knew it could not be possible.

To be loved so deeply by Helaena — who was so wise and empathetic — he knew it couldn’t be possible.

Aegon Targaryen was not rotten.

Burned and broken, but not rotten.

thanks for reading ^—^

credit for the pictures goes to the original posters on pinterest <3

if you enjoyed my writing here then don’t be shy to check out my ao3 :) you can find me on there as mrderofcrows

xoxo

#hotd #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaegon #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon ii fanfic #king aegon ii targaryen

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