#but I could imagine that even then he still had a bit of an unrequited crush on Davy

[lieutenantselnia]

2 things that have absolutely nothing to do with each other, but are kinda related to this blog, and that have been on my mind recently:

I'd love to make some kind of small custom merch some day, either of just my f/os or actually my self ships. Like stickers or a pin, maybe even a small keychain. Even if it was just for myself (bc idk if anyone else would even be interested in it, especially when it's including not just the canon character but my s/i as well), but I think it would be cute <3

What if I made a Davy x Selena x Maccus crack ship? For no particular reason other than silliness

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed. 

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before. 

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother. 

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious. 

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger. 

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early. 

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast. 

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free. 

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie. 

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home. 

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. 

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals. 

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries. 

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed. 

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience. 

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you. 

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress. 

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind. 

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand. 

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you. 

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.” 

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling. 

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you. 

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door. 

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead. 

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you. 

“As they have been taught, your reverence.” 

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years. 

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down. 

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.” 

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection. 

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you. 

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful. 

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before. 

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door. 

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you. 

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face. 

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you. 

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?” 

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one. 

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down. 

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting. 

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat. 

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction. 

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight. 

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head. 

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.” 

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room. 

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen. 

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.  “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime. 

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different? 

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different. 

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew. 

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with. 

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing. 

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap. 

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively. 

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face. 

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke. 

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.” 

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for. 

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul. 

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted. 

“Soon.” 

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up. 

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation. 

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly. 

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent. 

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better. 

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right. 

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach. 

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence. 

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive. 

But god, you wanted to live. 

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer. 

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides. 

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front. 

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression. 

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view. 

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability. 

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd. 

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime. 

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago. 

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you. 

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?” 

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes. 

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side. 

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements. 

The two of you were communicating. 

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?” 

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you. 

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days. 

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child. 

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.  He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in. 

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it. 

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of. 

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves. 

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position. 

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you. 

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin. 

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this. 

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime. 

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge. 

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.  

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?” 

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter. 

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.” 

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame. 

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir. 

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.” 

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough. 

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before. 

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed. 

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain. 

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover. 

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer. 

“Well then you��ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying. 

Animal, indeed. 

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. 

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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

[ladadiida]

𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

once upon a time, you wished for alhaitham to love you back just as much as you loved him. that was years ago though; now as the acting grand scribe for the acting grand sage, you both were widely known for the hate you have for each other.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 love hate, unrequited love (or is it), angst, implied insecurity about physical appearance, inspired from the fountain scene in atonement by ian mcewan. i suggest you watch the video first so you can imagine how the scene would look like!

𝐰𝐜 2.5k

he finally found you.

the swaying grass crunched under the soles of his boots as he slowly and menacingly walked towards you with your back facing him, not aware of what was about to come. he was getting nearer now, and yet you still didn't turn around; it was either because you didn't hear him at all or because you didn't care about his presence. knowing you, the latter sounded more reasonable.

you were sitting on the grass, right beside the crystal clear waterfalls of chinvat ravine, legs crossed and hair tied to keep the strands from blocking your view, but the wind didn't spare you from its wrath. your locks swayed gently along with the breeze, flying and curling like the roots of the divine tree holding up the sanctuary of surasthana, exposing your bare neck to him. even with your long sleeved dress, you bathed in the golden sumeru sunlight, not caring about the heat at all.

though you weren't looking at him at all, alhaitham's heart stubbornly skipped a beat, its pace picking up the longer he stared at you. you looked so peaceful sitting in silence that he almost turned away and let you be in your own quiet world. or maybe he would just sit beside you if you'd allow him to, then the two of you would listen to the singing of the dusk birds together, along with the calming sound of the running water from the waterfalls.

in another time, he would like to spend his mornings, afternoons, and nights with you; but right now, as the acting grand sage of the akademiya, work was priority.

and so, despite not wanting it, alhaitham broke the silence. "if I may ask, what is the acting grand scribe doing here?"

he saw your body tense up, shoulders raising slightly. it took you a whole minute before you decided to glance at him over your shoulder. as he expected, your usually gentle eyes were already narrowed, ready to bite at him. your plump lips were pursed in annoyance, and it took every bit of his sanity to not lean in and swipe his thumb over it. your cheeks were already starting to turn into a shade of red that reminded him of zaytun peaches. it was probably because of anger, or irritation. or both.

beautiful, he thought.

"acting grand sage alhaitham." you greeted him calmly, as opposed to the emotions you had on display. "i can ask you the same question."

alhaitham crossed his arms and stared down blankly at you. "i have some files i need you to arrange, and they should be at my desk tomorrow morning."

without breaking off the eye contact, you blinked twice as if you were contemplating on what to say. then you shrugged, appearing not to care at all. "alright."

he couldn't help but to think that the old you wouldn't act this way. years ago, you would've nod slowly with a soft smile gracing your lips, a smile that was reserved just for him, and a pale pink hue would settle on top of your skin because you were too flustered to even speak a word to him.

but times have changed now. he should not be thinking about the past, for it will only hinder his progress in the present. but how could he not, when the only person he could blame for the reason for your change was himself?

alhaitham tried to hide his growing impatience, both for your stubbornness and your attitude towards him. he frowned and pressed on, "it seemed like you didn't understand. i am asking you to return to your office in the akademiya."

"you already wasted my time by searching for you. i spent a precious hour just walking around the city asking people if they somehow saw you when i could've spent that hour finishing the rest of my work. even katayoun didn't know where you are, so i had to find you myself." he continued, voice sounding more cross in each sentence.

you sighed, not affected by his rants. fully turning around, he saw a writing quill tucked in your ear and some papers stacked on your lap. you took one of the papers and showed it to him. "i'm checking some of the students' research proposals before i can submit them to you for approval."

"and you couldn't do that in your office?"

"unlike some of us, i can't concentrate on my work when i am locked up in an enclosed space." you quickly bit back, glaring at him. "working here is much better. i can breathe in some fresh air and watch the dusk birds if i'm feeling overwhelmed by the never-ending paperwork."

alhaitham thought of what you said and almost agreed with you. from where he was standing, he could see the bright blue sky, and not to mention, the entire view of the city.

but his pride didn't allow him to back down, just like always. he can tolerate you being mad at him and hating him with all your heart, but he can't stand it when you ignore him.

so he added fuel to the fire and lectured you, "while you're at it, do you have more complaints? don't hesitate to inform me if you lack materials or things that you will need. you have a high position in the akademiya now, so it is important for you to have your work done in a proper manner."

you rolled your eyes. "office rooms make me nauseous." you said straightforwardly.

that made him scrunch his eyebrows in both confusion and concern. "nauseous?"

"there's no windows." you grumbled under your breath. alhaitham inhaled sharply, finally understanding the situation. he made a mental note to speak with some of the matra later and make a request to transfer you to a new room. maybe even use some of his sage funds to buy new decorations just for you, so you wouldn't feel lonely and cramped inside your office.

while he was thinking, he noticed that you turned around once again, continuing to check the papers on your own. he watched you write, quick but your handwriting remained neat and pleasing to look at. this was one of the reasons why he chose you to become the scribe.

he wasn't satisfied with just watching you. alhaitham got closer and bent down with one knee. striking up a conversation again, he began, "let me see what you're working on."

you flinched at the sudden close proximity. he noticed it, and he tried to stop himself from smirking.

your grip on your quill tightened. with gritted teeth, you told him, "i'm not yet finished. please be patient."

alhaitham peered at you innocently, making you glower even more at his unaffected state. "i just want to check if you're doing it correctly." he simply said.

"i told you it's not yet finished. and what do you mean by correctly? i can manage just fine on my own!" you defended, now starting to raise your voice. while you were distracted, he took the opportunity to take the paper you were writing on.

you yelped and protested, "hey! stop!"

he lifted up his arm so you wouldn't be able to reach it, looking down on you with a strange glint in his beautiful turquoise eyes. seething in anger, you slightly sat up and pressed a hand on his chest in a rough manner to hoist yourself up without losing balance. you tried to ignore the feeling of his defined muscles against your palm as you tried to snatch the paper from him.

alhaitham froze. for a moment, he thought he forgot how to breathe because of how close you were to him. he could see the flecks of light in your eyes, the number of your thick eyelashes, and the many imperfections on the surface of your skin, yet they looked soft to the touch. and your lips, your heavenly lips, were only inches away from his own. the way they were slightly parted made him think of how they would feel.

he lost all focus that the paper he was holding slipped away from his fingers. your jaw dropped in horror, gaze following the paper in the air as it slowly flew towards the river. you got off alhaitham and tried to chase after it, but you were unfortunately too late. the paper had already met the surface of the water, liquid seeping on its thin composition.

you looked at him in disbelief. "what have you done?"

alhaitham sighed, waving a hand. "don't fret too much. just take the printed copy and submit it to me." he said.

"i didn't print one." you quietly replied.

he turned to you and stared at you like you've grown two heads. "what?"

in a louder voice, you explained impatiently, "that's the original paper. i haven't printed a copy yet."

hearing your words, alhaitham felt a huge headache. it was a grave mistake not to keep a copy of the akademiya's files.

"this is why I told you to always duplicate important files immediately after you receive them from the students in case they are stolen, destroyed, or lost." he spoke carefully, trying to avoid getting frustrated. "these are their research papers, and i'm sure that as a former akademiya student, you know how much value those papers hold."

your hands formed into fists. "do not talk to me like that!" you weakly shouted.

one of his eyebrows raised in question. "like what? like an acting grand sage pointing out their scribe's mistake?"

to his surprise, you started tearing up. bright red then blossomed on your cheeks, signalling the chaos that was about to reach its boiling point.

"like a pompous ass who forced me to become the scribe!" you yelled, and the shrillness of your voice hurt his ears, but he continued listening anyway. "if you're so clever and oh so better than me, then why didn't you just be the grand sage and scribe at the same time? you just have to drag me into your shit so you could embarrass me in front of the mahamata!"

"to embarrass you is far from my—"

you pointed a finger at him in a threatening way, your eyes shooting daggers as sharp enough to kill him. "speak another word and i'll kick you so hard in your groin that your children wouldn't be able to have the same genes as you."

flabbergasted, alhaitham didn't dare utter another word. but when you started to unbutton your dress, he let out a sarcastic huff.

"the water is not safe." he said, trying to prevent you from wading through the fungi infested river. you ignored him and continued to undress.

you were about to pull down the upper part of your dress when you glanced at him, mouth open as if you were going to say something. he held your gaze, waiting for your retort. however, nothing came, and you only scowled at him while you finally slipped out of your dress, the clothing falling down to your feet.

he knew it was improper to stare. he wanted to look away, to give you respect and privacy and also because it was the right thing to do, but he can't he can't he can't—

the lacy camisole you were wearing underneath the dress clung tight to your body. your bra straps were visible, and because the camisole's length can only reach the middle of your exposed thighs, he can almost see your underwear. you were half naked right in front of him, but you didn't seem to care. why didn't you care?

ah, alhaitham thought, realization dawning upon him as you carefully walked towards the river and tested the temperature of the water first before taking a dive. you became nothing but a colorful blur under the aquamarine waters.

it was quiet for a moment. everything was quiet, until a distant memory flashed in his mind.

"you don't pass my aesthetic preferences and ideals for a partner. i consider both character and appearance when it comes to choosing a significant other, should that day ever come." he explained quickly, trying to get out of this awkward situation. more students were gathering around them, and that was the thing he despised the most: attention.

it became even worse when your lower lip started to tremble. just how pathetic can you be? confessing your feelings in the middle of a public place, the feelings that grew within you just by working on a single project together. you brought this to yourself. this was all your fault to begin with.

"are you saying i'm ugly?" you whispered, shaky voice sounding upset.

his gaze on you remained impassive. "i wouldn't use that term. that's too harsh, don't you think? i'd say...you're just not physically attractive, that's all.

"i'm not planning to consider you as my partner in a romantic relationship, today and in the near future. so i advise you to stay away from me to save yourself from the humiliation. have a nice day."

a loud splash interrupted his thoughts.

when you emerged from the water, your hands were clutching the soggy piece of paper, grip gentle as to not rip it off. damp pieces of hair framed your face, and the camisole, now transparent, hugged your wet form. your jaw was clenched, due to the cold or your hostility towards him; he doesn't know.

oxygen was knocked out of his lungs. alhaitham swallowed a lump in his throat and clenched his fist, reminding himself to breathe. you walked past him, not meeting his eye, and picked up your dress from the ground. you dressed hastily, your wet strands drenching your clothing in the process.

after you buttoned up, you turned your head sideways, finally acknowledging his presence but not making eye contact.

"i never wanted to be the acting grand scribe." you said, voice calm once again. "still, i apologize. i, who does not have a single clue about being a scribe because i'm only a librarian, apologize for not knowing what this job entails. but for just one day, can you please stop reminding me that i'm not as intelligent as you?"

he stayed quiet.

"have a nice day, acting grand sage." were your last words before you left him there standing dumbly on the grass. he can only watch as you walked away from him, hair swaying across your shoulders with each step you take. when you disappeared from his sight, he looked back at the water, the roiling surface yet to recover from its tranquillity, almost like you left some of your fury in it. alhaitham placed a hand flat on its surface, thinking about how the water touched your body mere moments ago, its calming arms caressing every inch of your skin. he doesn't want to feel jealous, but that he felt.

it has happened, much to his dread. you, who is possibly the only woman who can ever love someone like him, no longer have feelings for him. it was to be expected, but how can he live on when the only constant thing in his life finally left him for good?

alhaitham can only dip his hand in the water. it was the only closest thing to you that he could touch.

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 1

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes

masterlist / next

The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited. 

You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.

Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression. 

“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”

You promptly obeyed.

“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”

“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare. 

“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.” 

You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out. 

Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home. 

That’s it then.

You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed. 

Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.

Does he even know you exist?

Will you be able to survive this?

Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.

“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”

“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“I’ll get the booze.”

“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.

“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”

You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee. 

Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”

“What if he doesn’t give that up?”

You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”

Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”

Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”

Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that. 

“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”

“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”

You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”

You weren’t technically late. 

While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now. 

Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired. 

You felt tired.

Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated. 

Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.

Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”

“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”

You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”

“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it. 

You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you. 

As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy. 

Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that? 

Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”

At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit. 

Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours. 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”

A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance. 

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.

It seems he didn’t remember you after all.

The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo. 

He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden. 

Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress. 

“Hey, you.”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight. 

“Hey, snot-face.”

You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”

You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party. 

Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG. 

Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.

masterlist / next

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Movie Night

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie bails on your weekly movie night to go be with Chrissy. So you make plans with Steve OR Two jealous idiots in love :/

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: Angst/unrequited feelings at first. Jealous!Eddie. Steve's a good friend. Fluff. Bad jokes.

A/n: Been trying to write this one for a bit. I might do a version of this where the reader chooses Steve instead, if there's any interest for it. Thanks as always for reading! Love to hear your thoughts <3

--

“Yeah, I’m heading to the diner tonight. With Chrissy.”

Sometimes, when you thought about your future, you’d imagine a lifetime of laughing side-by-side with Eddie. Imagine his hand clasped in yours, his body an anchor holding you to this place. Yet other times, like now, after he said those words, you feared you’d end up floating away alone.

You only barely caught his eyes on you after telling you the news, not that you were all that present anymore. Not when trying everything to focus on keeping your face neutral. Happy even, for him. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” you said, though your voice probably betrayed any facade you tried to put on. All you could do was look at the way shadows from the dipping sun dragged down his face. Maybe floating away into the golden sky wouldn’t be all that bad.

“So movie night next week, then?” you asked, unfocused eyes drifting over his shoulder and past him.

Your question came out as a precaution, a hope at normalcy to lighten the mood. Just in the entryway of Eddie’s apartment, snacks in hand for tonight’s canceled plans apparently, you were glad you hadn’t taken your shoes off yet. Inching toward the doorknob, you gave a small smile that cracked at the edges.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Eddie offered, and it only made you chew harder on the inside of your cheek, savor the pain of it. Your fingers found the handle’s metal, unsure of what to tell him. He hadn’t ever canceled movie night before, and now it’s for lovely Chrissy. 

She’d sort of joined the group, becoming better friends with Eddie after high school. And you were glad for it – truly, you were. You two had more in common than you’d expected, and she was nicer than anyone you’d ever talked to. So with the nausea of jealousy rising up your throat came bile tasting of guilt, a twisting feeling of shame for wishing she’d had any other plans than with Eddie, your Eddie.

Not that he knew your feelings toward him, which you usually kept tight under wraps. Until this. So you just said, “It’s fine, Eddie. I’ll see you around, ‘kay?” You didn’t wait for an answer or dare risk a glance at his face, just in case it looked happy. 

A rumbling sigh escaped your mouth as you trudged down the building’s stairwell, your feet heavy against the steps and begging to drag you deeper. Each creak accompanied the rustling of the cookies, chips, and more piled in your arms. 

Outside, the honeyed sun dipped through the sky’s thick wall of clouds. It brought a sprinkling of rain that seeped into you on the short walk home. Maybe out of necessity, but you welcomed the chill of the wind that carried goosebumps along your body. Let it freeze your skin, your pestering thoughts, your teary eyes.

Eddie could have other friends. He could spend time with other people. You knew that. And yet, he’d flaked on your plans with no warning. But he could be forgetful sometimes, and maybe they were just friends. And yet… a sharp feeling itched in your chest, one you couldn’t shake.

The back-and-forth plaguing your mind simmered to a dull annoyance as you entered your own place, dropping all the snacks on your counter. You let your hands fall by your sides as you debated finally taking off your shoes, staring at their fraying laces while deciding what to do tonight. The alluring voice of self-pitying called your name, telling you to find some trashy movie on TV or eat the food you should have been sharing with Eddie. 

Stuck standing there, still staring at your shoes as the world continued on outside, your body finally jolted as the phone rang. The shrill noise forced your muscles tight, but that paled in comparison to the jump your heart gave. A small part of you knew it came from the hope that Eddie had changed his mind and was calling to apologize. But you wouldn’t believe it. If you did, that might just hurt worse than anything he could say.

A swallow passed down your throat as you readied your voice, a tightness refusing to go away. Grabbing the receiver, you said, “Hello?”

“Ah, hey. It’s Steve.”

Oh.

“Hi, Steve,” you answered, feeling your fingers tighten around the phone as you forced out an even breath. It was fine. You were fine. This dumb crush couldn’t last forever.

“Just filling my employee duties to remind you to return Alien the next time you’re here. I called to leave a message on your machine though, thought you’d be at Eddie’s tonight.” 

Ouch. Guess tonight wasn’t the night that crush would end then. 

“Uh, yeah,” you breathed out. “He’s busy tonight apparently. So I’m just here. But yeah, of course, I can drop off the tape tomorrow.”

Maybe Steve heard the disappointment in your voice or just was bored and free like you, because he asked, “Oh, well I’m almost done here at Family Video if you wanna swing by. Haven’t had dinner yet if you’re hungry. We could head down to the diner.”

“No! No, I’m okay,” you rushed out, feeling a chill spark through your body and up your spine. You didn’t need to witness Eddie and Chrissy dining together tonight. 

Eyeing the snacks and your small TV, you debated whether to take him up on the offer. The weight of your unreturned feelings pulled at your tired mind, but maybe taking Steve’s offering hand could be a way back up.

Though he couldn’t see, you nodded as you shifted your weight back and forth. “But I’m okay going somewhere else. If you want.”

A small pause passed before he answered. “We could go to the theater. Been meaning to see that comedy… Spaceballs, I think.”

The smile beginning to spread across your face warmed your body, loosened the cold holding on tight to you. A stupid comedy with Steve’s terrible jokes sounded like a distraction you needed. “Sounds great. I’ll head to Family Video now.”

“Wait, stay there. It looks like it might rain. I’ll come pick you up,” he said, and you imagined his hand on his hip in that way he did.

“Okay,” you said. “See you soon.”

Trying not to dwell on thoughts of Eddie while waiting for the sound of Steve’s car, you paced back and forth through the room – shoes still on your feet. Eddie had his plans, you had yours. And that was okay. Right?

Rather than answering that question, you grabbed a handful from the pile of snacks and shoved them in your pocket before making your way to the front of the building. Maybe the universe was actually on your side because you didn’t wait long before spotting Steve’s car under the dark sky and dripping rain.

But as you jogged over and began to climb in, Steve shouted, “Ah! Wait, wait, wait!” He held out an arm before you could lean back against the seat, the car door still wide open.

“What? What is it, Harrington?” You asked through clenched teeth, your body growing colder by the second as drops continued to hit down your body.

He dug through the bag he brought to work, pulling out a jacket and handing it to you. “Here. Don’t need you freezing, or getting the seats soaked.”

Glaring at him, you knew the quickest way to get this over with was to wrap the jacket around your shoulders and shut the car door. Your fingers dug into the material, hoping to keep yourself from shivering. 

“I’m starting to think you care more about your car than… well, anyone,” you muttered with a joking smile, though you couldn’t be too upset with the soft heat rolling from the car’s vents.

Steve only offered a confirmatory hum before putting the car into drive, heading toward the theater through watery roads. The street lights turning on stretched and became fuzzy past the rain-soaked windshield.

Less than a minute passed of soft drumming on the car’s roof and the quiet radio before Steve asked the question you’d been hoping to avoid. “So, uh, if Eddie’s not at your weekly movie night, what’s he up to?”

Your head turned toward the window, resting back against the seat. A sigh loosened past your lips, slowly growing into flat words. “He’s with Chrissy.”

“Ah,” was all he said. He wasn’t a stranger to your feelings for Eddie – not that you had been brave enough to tell Steve yourself. Apparently, you weren’t as good at hiding them as you thought, and he finally confronted you after the whole group hung out. You’d been “staring at him like he was freaking Rob Lowe” as Steve had put it.

He’d told you that Eddie had done the same, and you’d wanted to believe it. You did for a short while. But holding onto that seemed to just make things hurt more when he brushed you off, so you let it go. Or at least tried to.

“They’re at the diner, huh?” Steve asked, one hand holding the wheel and one combing through his hair.

If you weren’t clenching your jaw to keep from emotion rising up your throat, you might’ve laughed and cursed him for always seeing through you. But you just nodded instead, pressing your mouth tight.

Steve shrugged, giving you a sympathetic sideways look. “I know you’re gonna huff or sigh at me, but I still think you should tell him… Can’t blame him for not knowing, since both of you are equally oblivious.”

And you did sigh at that, knowing he was right. “Yeah…” Crossing your arms, you stared out the window at the world passing by until he spoke up again.

“Either way, screw ‘em. They’re missing out on Spaceballs and incredible company,” he offered, leaving no room for disagreement.

That got you to crack a growing smile again. “Are you talking about me or yourself?” you laughed out.

“That depends on who makes the funniest joke during the movie, so start preparing.”

Your brain automatically went to what kinds of jokes Eddie would make during the movie, his mouth barely shutting before making some comment that left you breathless laughing. But you shook your head, focusing on anything else.

You rolled your eyes as you answered Steve. “I think we have a different definition of funny though. Because yours always suck.”

He glanced toward you from the corner of his eye. “You know, maybe you should actually walk to the theater. Car’s feeling a bit cramped.”

Steve began to reach toward your door handle, but you slapped his hand away as you belly laughed. “See, I was going to share my bag of Skittles with you. But now? Not so sure…”

His hand reeled back to his side in an instant. Through a smile, he said, “Fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

The car pulled into the theater’s parking lot before you knew it. Your hand gripped the door handle, forcing your shoulders to relax and your jaw to unclench. Leave it all behind.

You took out your wallet as you entered the building, the jacket still around your shoulders, and asked for two tickets.

But Steve held out a hand, saying, “Come on, not letting you buy my ticket tonight.”

Letting out a long sigh, you shrugged like all you felt was indifference. But you were glad to turn back to the employee so Steve couldn’t see the disappointment on your face. Tonight, because you’d been left at Eddie’s doorstep with no plans. 

But as you had tried and failed to do all evening, you really did forget about Eddie during the movie. You covered your mouth to keep from laughing too hard and ate way too much popcorn, pushing Steve away when he whispered much too loud his terrible jokes. It all passed in a blur, leaving you feeling lighter than before as you finally walked out into the night air.

Tilting your head, you stared up into the sky now free from any clouds. Stars dotted all across the darkness, creating freckles along the universe. The rain had stopped, but you still held the jacket around your body. You shut your eyes for a second, taking a slow breath.

“I think the system jamming with raspberry jam had to be the punniest joke in the whole movie,” Steve joked, breaking you from the quiet moment.

“That was horrible.” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop from laughing regardless. It echoed into the night, all the way to the van coming from down the road.

Any effort to forget about Eddie disappeared as the all too familiar rumbling engine grew louder. The smile that had been still stuck on your face began to drop at seeing Eddie’s van drive toward you and Steve. Instead, a rising rigidness made its way through your body. 

Your steps stuttered for a moment, making Steve stop as well to wait for the van to pull alongside you. You steeled yourself to see Chrissy in the front seat, pretty smile and all right next to Eddie. But as the brakes screeched to a halt, you saw through the rolled-down window that he was alone.

“Hey, where’ve you been? I called your place,” Eddie asked, his jacket-covered arm hanging out of the van. His words sounded strained, but not quite accusatory. His eyes flicked between the two of you, and you tried to remember when you’d seen him this off.

Clutching your hands together, hoping the pressure would somehow ground you (or pull you into the ground), you said, “Uh, we, um, went to the theater. Thought you were busy for the night...” You trailed off, and the air around you three seemed to stretch thin, threatening to shatter and fall to your feet.

“We saw Spaceballs. ‘S pretty good,” Steve added, and that joking tone he had just minutes ago seemed to have disappeared. Still, you were glad for his attempt at keeping things light.

Not that it seemed to work because Eddie then let out a scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure you really appreciated all those Star Trek references.”

“Hey, I’ve seen Star Trek, Munson. I think we all know why Han Solo’s so popular, okay?” Steve told him while running a hand through his hair. 

As you tried to keep your laughing in, you asked, “Are you saying you look like the hit Star Trek character Han Solo?”

And you hated the way your chest bloomed at the sudden laugh Eddie let out, being the one that made him make the sound you loved so much.

While Steve looked at the two of you with eyebrows scrunched, Eddie rested his chin on his hands sat along the window’s edge. He looked lovelier than you’d ever admit. “So… do you need a ride home?”

His eyes never left you, bringing a heat to your cheeks with their intensity. “Uh…” you began.

“I’d already offered a ride,” Steve answered.

Eddie pursed his lips for a second, tilting his head. “But my apartment’s closer, so it’s really no big deal.” 

They both looked to you, expectant looks on their faces as if you held all the answers. And despite everything that’d happened, you couldn’t stop the pull of being with Eddie, the chance to be with him that your body never passed up.

You turned between looking at Steve, then Eddie, and back to Steve again. “Yeah, I can go with Eddie. You’ve done plenty tonight.”

“You sure?” Steve whispered, leaning closer so only you could hear. Giving you an out. But you could do this, and it did make more sense logistically. You were just being efficient really.

You nodded, offering a soft smile. Grabbing his jacket from your shoulders, you handed it back to him. “Thank you again, for everything,” you said before walking to the other side of the van. “Oh, and Harrington? Han Solo’s in Star Wars, not Star Trek.” Your laugh carried out as you said your goodbye, reveling in Steve’s groan that followed.

Though it quickly died down once you shut the van’s door behind you, the loud bang nearly breaking any confidence you thought you might’ve had up until now. Eddie just put it into drive, the van jolting forward. 

The silence wrapping around you both squeezed tight, snaking around your bodies until you thought you couldn’t take it any longer.

“So, where’s Chrissy?”

Well, that was one way to break the silence. At least you ripped the bandage off, prepared to deal with the hurt that followed. Your leg began to shake up and down at the pause, steeling yourself for the worst.

You caught his eyes glancing toward you for a moment before answering. “She drove home. Didn’t stay too long.”

Unsure of how to answer, you just nodded. Only a few drawn-out seconds passed before he continued, “Called your place after to see if you still wanted that movie night.”

Your face twisted as the different emotions flowing through you turned your expression sour. He thought of you, worried about you. But you were still his second choice plans after his dinner fell short.

“Yeah, Steve didn’t have plans tonight and offered to go see a movie,” you said, giving no further explanation.

“Yeah, put that together,” he said, letting a strained pause pass before asking, “Did you like it?”

“It was pretty funny, I think you’d like it. Especially the Star Trek references.” You gave a little laugh, passing a hard swallow down your throat. Talking with Eddie wasn’t supposed to feel like this, not with him. And yet, the next words he spoke sent your body into overdrive.

“Even with The Hair and his jacket?”

Your arms curled in, your legs hugging closer to yourself as you turned just a bit away from him. Where was this coming from?

With a hard stare ahead and a tone sharper than you intended, you said, “Yes…? Even with Steve.” At that, Eddie let out a condescending scoff, making you finally turn toward him. “And was dinner good? Even with The Queen of Hawkins High?”

The words felt bitter dripping off your tongue, unnatural and sparked by Eddie’s own prodding. Both Steve and Chrissy were friends, and they didn’t deserve this talk. But god, how could he be so infuriating right now? 

“Uh yeah, and I’m sure we had a million more interesting things to talk about than hairspray or whatever Harrington cares about,” Eddie muttered, not taking his eyes off the road.

Your hands clenched, your nails digging into the skin of your palms. You welcomed the biting pain. “Eddie, what are you talking about? I thought you and Steve were friends now. And… and at least he made plans with me and stuck to them, alright?”

As your apartment neared, the van fell into a charged silence. Your heartbeat sounded in your ears, drumming the rapid pulse into your head. Inching toward the door, your hand readied to leave the second this vehicle stopped. Maybe a future of floating away was better than one with an anchor that threatened to cut you loose at any second.

The brakes screeched into the air, accompanying Eddie’s soft voice that stopped you from leaving. “Wait.” He shifted the van into park and rested his head against the steering wheel, letting out a strained sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Seconds from asking what he meant, even maybe whispering an apology as well for the comment about Chrissy, you were cut off by a question that sharpened your body to an edge. “Can I be honest with you? And please promise to not completely and absolutely hate me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, your jaw ticking. “I’m not going to hate you, Eddie. Even if you are acting like this right now.”

Running a hand back through his hair, Eddie fidgeted with the rings on his hand as he thought about his words. “You know how we all hung out as a group last week and Chrissy forgot her jacket? Well, that’s really what today was. Returning her jacket and getting coffee. That’s all… but I made it sound worse so you’d, um…”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “So I’d what?”

“So you’d get jealous,” he rushed out, rubbing a palm down his face. “I’m sorry. I thought, for some idiotic reason, that it might make you jealous and confess your feelings. And now…”

He paused, letting out a sigh that turned into a sad, sort of disbelieving laugh as he reached behind his seat. He pulled out some store-bought and slightly crumpled flowers. “And now I’m confessing my feelings after sending you to another man and making myself jealous. And I’m apologizing for being stupid.”

At that, you laughed too. Actually giggled from deep inside. He liked you. You grabbed the flowers, brushing a finger over the orange, red, and yellow petals of the bouquet. “Eddie, that might be one of your worst ideas. Did Dustin suggest it?” you asked, leaning your face in to smell the flowers and hiding the heat rising to your cheeks.

“See! I knew it was terrible. That’s the last time I let Henderson give me dating advice,” Eddie confessed, collapsing dramatically back into his seat.

You just watched him, shaking your head. “Well, I can’t say I disagree with that… I would’ve loved to have movie night with you. Though, it’s not like I was any more forward about confessing my feelings.”

Eddie’s eyes returned to yours, the soft brown of them reaching out to wrap you in a warmth you’d missed. Tentatively, as if one word too loud would break everything, he asked, “And what exactly are your feelings?”

You tilted your head as you stared at him, unable to keep a smile from spreading. “I definitely don’t hate you. And maybe I was a little jealous of Chrissy.”

Eddie sprang forward, a wide grin on his face as he grabbed your hands. “So that’s a yes…that you like me too? Is that a yes? Sweetheart, please tell me that’s a yes,” he begged, inching closer.

Who were you to tell him no? Against his skin, your noses brushing together now, you whispered, “Yes, Eddie.”

Instantly, he pressed his lips against your cheek. And then your forehead. Then your nose. You laughed, your body shaking as he continued his lovely assault. 

He spoke between kisses. “Do you.” Kiss. “Want to.” Kiss. “Have.” Kiss. “Movie night?”

Pulling away, he watched your face. “You pick any movie, I’ll go find it. Let me try this night again, the right way,” he breathed out. His eyes glanced down at your mouth before flicking back up from under those long eyelashes.

Nodding, nearly giddy, you agreed. “Of course.”

And you couldn’t stop smiling, not when he pressed his lips to yours and made your head spin in the most addictive way. Against your mouth, Eddie whispered, “It’s going to be better than your movie night with Steve, right?”

The genuine, almost naked look he gave you nearly stopped your laugh from escaping. Nearly. “Eddie, you don’t need to be jealous anymore. You’ve got me.”

“Right?” he repeated, his fingers resting on the peaks of your cheekbones.

Pressing your forehead against his, you reassured him. “Right.”

Only then did his tense shoulders finally relax, his body melding to yours as he kissed you again. And again. And again for good measure.

You didn’t stop smiling then either. Not when pulling him all the way up to your apartment. Not when watching some movie you’d both seen a million times with popcorn sitting on your laps. And not when falling asleep on Eddie’s chest to the rhythm of his heart, silently promising a future of floating away together, hand in hand.

[tarjapearce]

Crimson Crown (Pt. 5)

Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Special thanks to @pinkiemme for this amazing cover ❤️✨

WARNINGS: Mentions of poisoning, awkward flirting, privacy invasion, mentions of character's death. Unresolved sexual tension, Unrequited sexual tension.

Summary: As danger looms in the horizon, a new objective is set in mind.

A/N: Didn't feel that well, so poured myself into this thingy ~ Hope your like ✨

Prince Gabriel approached today, I must say, there was something odd about his apology. Not in the disingenuous way but rather a more sudden and brazen one. The kind of way that leaves you confused.

He apologized, yet I wouldn't like to encounter his drunken self ever again.

Miguel blinked to read the next paragraph.

Odd things keep happening. The king has requested my presence today, Unexpected as it was, he is awaiting for me. I won't deny I dread this little encounter, hopefully this meeting brings me a little peace.

Everything seems to be happening at such speed is quite absurd.

He flipped the page with a sigh.

I've met the king where he instructed. And once more he manages to surprise me in such way I am... aghast. I'm still debating if it's a good thing or more of his political side taking over.

He said I was no stranger. He acknowledged me! I know this might sound preposterous even, but I'm glad we can settle for something more than strangers that occasionally have lunch together.

His words convinced me that he cares deeply for his people. Never in my life I've met someone that shares my vision for my future kingdom. It pleases me deeply. He is wise and I'm glad I am able to have such visionary on my side.

Oh...

He blinked as his mouth gave a shaky and surprised breath. His heart stirred in a pleasant feeling. It was odd and that terrified him. His heart was trying to settle a beat according to an specific emotion, but all of them mutinied and sent his brain into a brief override.

"Are you done invading her privacy?"

Miguel glared at a mirthful Jessica.

"This is the only way I can get some direct information."

"About yourself?" Her brow quirked with a little deadpan.

"The kingdom."

"Oh yes, the kingdom, of course."

Miguel rolled his eyes with a shake of his head and resumed his reading.

I was awaken today by the clashing of swords. The king was practicing some sword fighting with his brother. And now I can understand why he is called The Red King, or The Dragon's Claws in Onerim.

That was definitely a new nickname.

He wielded a sword in each hand. His technique is unique, precise and so deadly if one would be a tyro in the arts of combat. Even though it was a practice he didn't held back.

I cannot describe the feeling he... stirred  within me. May God forgive me for such volatile imagination.

His lips curved in a smirk.

"Flip the page."

Jessica's voice made his eyes snap up at her. She was away in her spot.

"You'll get extra patrol."

"Ohh, what did you read?"

"Si si, ya. Cállate, me interrumpes." (Shut up, you're interrupting me)

The power the king holds in his garden is... beyond me. How could he just accept things without looking into it? A bit reckless considering mostly of the plants he owes are either poisonous or quite medicinal. There is no in between.

Peter seemed concerned for the safety of the people that take care of the gardens, must admit his reaction was laughable.

But to my horror, tragedy attacked. There were many injured, but the king concerned me the most. I know his men are dear to him, but he shouldn't neglect himself. Not when he had a deep wound that could end up in a serious infection.

He allowed me to help him. He gave me a chance to prove him how worthy I could be. Hope my efforts didn't go unnoticed.

They didn't. How could he forget about your doting fingers working on him with such expertise, he barely felt any pain. He flipped the page.

Was I too straightforward when I said I admired him? He seemed uncomfortable even told me to see someone else as a role model. He's quite hard to read sometimes.

He's always frowning or scowling. Should I stop trying to approach? Even if we know our duties, I wouldn't want to be at odds with him.

But right now, my mind wanders to my father. He is ill, and I must visit him. Hopefully the king will understand.

Miguel exhaled. His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his face. Once again the questions assaulted his mind, yet wandered towards your family.

So far they seemed good and they were keeping the promise. The economy kept thriving and so far none had complained of any trouble in the West Passage.

He put the diary back in it's place and left your room. The lovely smell of rich violets had been long gone. You had left a day ago. Nothing had changed except his inner turmoil regarding your safety.

Not that he didn't trust his men. Peter was more than efficient, Gwen was capable despite being young, just like Hobie. And Webslinger was more than seasoned. You'd be alright. You had to.

He left your room with Jessica tailing behind him.

"One day you'd have to tell her that you've been reading her diary."

"Probably she'd end up poisoning me."

"And you'd die a happy man."

Jessica chuckled as he was about to protest.

"Do you miss her already?"

His shoulders tensed and slicked his hair back. 

"How is the east frontier gateway doing?"

"Holding up as it should"

He nodded, "Any complains?"

"Negative. The mutinies have been controlled and the leader has been arrested." Jessica rolled her shoulders to ease some tension, "It's the second mutiny regarding a rebellion we've encountered this month."

"Do you think it's a pattern?"

"It better not. Rebellions although used for higher causes, always bring second hand intentions. With enough fire and ignorant people, it can be dangerous."

His nose flared, frustration simmering in his heart.

"Sometimes I do wonder if I'm doing a good job as a king."

"You can't keep everyone happy, Miguel."

"I know. Still I'm doing everything I can yet it's never enough it seems."

"It won't be for those who aren't satisfied. You're a good ruler. And if this keeps happening, we'll handle it. Like we always do."

"Thanks."

"Besides, you have the Princess now. You said she shared your ideals, hold onto that."

"Might as well invite her for a hearing in a council."

"Don't listen to those old people, they are nothing but square thinkers."

"As long as their interests aren't threatened, the princess will be alright."

"We gotta see her temper as well. Oh! can you imagine her being like you? The scandal!"

"You're enjoying this too much."

"Of course I am. You're worried about something else that isn't the kingdom for once."

"She said we're acquaintances."

"Better than strangers or people that see eachother as something convenient. Does it bothers you being only that with her?"

"It's not that. Wouldn't want to be on her bad side either. You know I don't trust easily."

"You're still seeing if you can trust her?"

"Of course. That's why I read her diary. Her thoughts are truthful."

"Whatever works out for you, I guess. As long as you remain truthful."

----

Your carriage stopped in the outside of the castle. Your mother and Lucille already awaiting. Peter opened the door for you as you stepped out.

Lucille rushed to hug you.

"I've missed you so much!"

The queen joined in a heartfelt reunion. Peter and the rest followed you inside.

"My dear. You have... no idea how much I missed you."

The queen gave you a kiss on the forehead and a hug.

"How is father?"

"Stable. Come."

Peter stood behind you, paying a keen ear to the conversation.

"What happened?"

"A poisoning attempt."

Your hands covered your mouth and the queen squeezed your shoulders.

"And by none other than his beloved mistress. That wretched whore poisoned him once he refused her whims."

Your jaw tightened upon hearing the things that came out her mouth. Another reason to abhorre them. Not only they had meddled with your parent's marriage, but now one had tried to kill him.

Peter saw you tense, now having a wider perspective on why you were so upset regarding them. Understandably so.

"Tell me she is dead."

Peter blinked at your words.

"I assure you this ain't the first attempt she tries. Remember when he suddenly fell ill by an everlasting raving? The whore had diluted datura and henbane on his drink."

"As much as I'd love to handle her treatment personally, I shall go to see the king. Lucille, Peter please come with me."

Peter gave the rest a sign call to remain put as he followed. You were on your element, and it showed as you gave turns around the castle, like muscle memory.

Lucille separated to go to a lab-like room as you walked to the king's chambers.

Guards saluted you as you entered. Heart sinking at the sight. Your father laid on bed, pale due sickness, lips devoid of color, eyebags dark and sagging thanks to the little sleep.

"Oh no. no. Please leave!" You dad whined but you held his hand soothingly

"How could you ask such thing when you're fighting for your life?"

"Who is this man?"

"Commander Peter B. Parker. From Arachne."

"You've already gotten married?"

"No. Not yet."

You soaked a rag on the water next to him as the damage was assessed.

"From all the things you could've done, was to anger a woman that is power-hungry."

"Please, child-"

"You know how that... Sarina is."

"She's just angered, but she will come to me. I know so. This is just a quarrel -"

"Father."

Your voice was stern, laced with anger, yet you kept wiping his sweat.

"I'll have her executed for murder attempt."

The king groaned and sobbed.

"In my time, none went above me. And look how things have changed, ser!" Your dad looked at Peter, trying to get him to reason with you. He just gave an awkward smile.

"It's beyond me how can you keep defending such... woman after everything she has done to you. You might tolerate it. But I do not."

You stood and went to the little medical station that was left either by Lucille or another doctor. Hands ground some herbs as Lucille brought a pot of boiling water.

" You don't know her like I do."

"Oh, my apologies dear father, but anyone that attempt to kill me in the name of love must surely be a lovely person"

Peter just remained watching, until you called him while stirring a goblet with a steamy green concoction.

"Hold the king." You instructed as he blinked stupidly.

"Beg... your pardon, your majesty?"

"Please hold the king's hands. I will give him his medicine."

"If you dare to touch me, I will have-!"

"You barely can keep your own head up, father. Stop it."

Peter sighed and held the king's hands firmly. His skin cold, clammy and waxy. Your father whined like a child as you made him swallow the potion, green and thick drops of the brew rolled down his chin. His face contorted in a repulsed one at the strong and sour taste.

"Thanks, Peter."

The Commander stepped away and let you work. You seemed used to your father's antics at this point, and so was Lucille.

"Now, if you excuse me, I must talk to the queen."

"Your mother refuses to talk to me, child."

You rolled your eyes.

"Understandably so. You can't expect  people that love you be happy for such repetitive behavior. Much less with someone that brings suffering. You're lucky if she doesn't makes you watch that woman's execution."

"Sarina has done nothing but to bring joy to my life!"

Sighing you shook your head.

"My God... why men must think with their groin?! How can you so blind, father? You've hurt my mother with your little childish affairs." You took a deep breath, "You're a king. An old one, mind you. Behave like one."

Your voice laced with anger. A warning tone.

-----

As day passed, Miguel poured himself into work. The reports of Rhino sure had decreased, the villain so far knew to keep a low profile, which was odd. It was against the rouge's nature to be so quiet and cunning, unless someone else was with him. And that meant trouble.

Sighing for the millionth time, Miguel plopped on his chair. One that had to be custom made for him, and then, slicked his hair back. Sometimes he wanted to pull his hair out due the strain he was constantly facing, and other times he really wanted to just punch something or someone.

He was sure that if that desperation would be a human or something tangible, he'd not only punch it, but would try to make it through the same  suffering it was making him endure. His heart beat faster and he clutched at his chest. A few deep breaths was enough to ease his irregular beatings.

He closed his eyes and relaxed his body. His fingers rubbed on his aching eyes. He had been sleeping less and less, to the point of having random yet unwilling naps and waking up tired and sore.

His neck popped as his spine cracked back into place and grunted like a rusty machine. His mind tried to empty itself, gravitating towards your soft and warm fingers on his aching skin. It was the closest someone has ever been touching him in a non threatening way.

Your fingers felt like silk sliding down his upper body, A gentle caress from the wind, a soothing touch in aching bones. Balm to his bleeding body.

Soft caresses on his face and hair turned real, palpable even. Like if his thoughts were taking shape and were now massaging his scalp with such softness it made him groan. He was surely losing his mind, but the touch was so soothing and slumber inducing that he remained still, slowly melting into the caresses. They reminded of yours.

Had you returned already?

His nose was filled in with a scent he wished to have long forgotten eons ago. His eyes frowned as the too real dream now delivered fluttering kisses up and down his neck. His scent strong in myrrh and herbs.

"Hello there." The feminine voice snapped his eyes open and sigh.

"Leave."

"But you seemed to be enjoying it, Miggy."

Dana's voice purred into his ear which he quickly shook off with a disgruntled sigh.

"I said leave." He nearly growled and that made her stop, only to kneel before him, spreading his legs, her hands roaming over his clothed inner thighs.

"I've seen your new toy. Even though she is quite the looker, it makes me wonder. For how long you'll play until you break her?"

Miguel's eyes darted to her as she placed little kisses on his hands. He quickly removed them off her lips, annoyed, earning him a giggle.

" I know you. You like playing rough until your toys can no longer amuse you. But I'm still here, Miguel."

Her fingers roamed his injured arm gently, but even so, Miguel winced. Her touch felt soiling yours.

"Did she heal you, my love? How sweet of her to keep you in good shape for me." Her hand hovered over his groin but he quickly grabbed her by the wrist. "How long has it been since we had some pillow talk?"

"How brave of you to prowl when she is gone."

"I am generous to spare her a bad time, by seeing me coming out of your chambers. Isn't that nice of me?"

"¿A poco si?" (Are you?) His face went blank

"Oh, Miguel. You mockery has turned soft. Just like you. I wonder if it's by that little witch influence."

"Witch?"

"I'd be careful around her. She knows too much." She sat on his lap.

He quirked an eyebrow without amusement. Stoic as ever.

"Follow your own advices, querida."

Dana widened her eyes slightly as she seized him with an undignified stare.

"You wouldn't allow her to do so such thing."

He shrugged and pushed her off his body gently, a cue for her to move but completely missed it.

"Who knows? I might feel bored and in dire need of amusement one day if you keep testing my patience. I said leave."

Dana stood with anger as he growled.

"We are on the verge of war and you suddenly start being all moronic and stupid over a pair of pretty eyes. She has been washing your brain! "

"The prettiest I've seen, indeed." He taunted.

"You are mine. And I do not share. Much less with a witch! For all I know she could've already poisoned your drinks!"

Miguel gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes and approached her.

"Is that so?" Her lips smirked as she bit her lips. Miguel took her by the chin.

"You don't like sharing?"

Dana shook her head and gasped as Miguel cornered her to wall, hand still gripping her chin. A grip that turned borderline painful as he kept squeezing.

"Tell me, dear Dana." The octave lower tone he pronounced dear made her gulp, "Do you see a ring on your finger?"

"She doesn't have one either."

"Yet. The difference between you and her is that she will. You won't." He spat. His smile long gone as he scrutinized her face. "We share a vision. You and I? A bed many months ago."

Dana growled but yelped as Miguel patted her cheek a bit too roughly.

"You don't love her" She taunted with a smirk, trying to swallow the painful stabs his words provoked her.

"What makes you think I love you instead?"

Something dern slithered in Dana's eyes.

"I am not in the mood for your stupid games and hysterics. Not now, not today, nor ever. Entiendes? Stay away from her and my affairs." (Understand?)

Dana stole a kiss, leaving a little wound in his lips in the process, a desperate way to mark him. Miguel snarled and took her by her arm then shoved her out of his chambers, slamming the door in her face. Rejecting her completely.

Little did Miguel know on taking Jessica's warning words at heart.

A scorned woman holds such wrath even you must learn to be wary of.

Dana left, her thinking gears turning and moving. Miguel would learn, whether he liked it or not. He was hers. She licked his blood off her tongue.

-----

"I apologize you had to witness that. My father... Is like a child once he gets bedridden.

"Do not fret over it, your highness. I've seen and done worse than that."

You chuckled as you walked through the gardens, checking on your roses and herbs.

"I always forget to ask you, ser Peter... Has the king been always this serious?"

"Even as a kid, yeah. His father trained us together."

Nodding your fetched a basket and then asked for boiling water to one of the nearby servants.

"Was he as ruthless and bloodthirsty as people say?"

"Ruthless, yes. He is when it comes to protect the kingdom and people he holds dear."

"But?"

"There is no buts, Princess. It is as it is."

"He loved the slaughter then?"

"Not to that point, but he wouldn't hesitate in ending someone's life if it was a threat. As little as it seemed to be."

You nodded and pulled two black roses along some berries to then put it on a kettle.

"What has changed?"

"He got tired of the bloodshed. And so Arachne. So we strive for the peace, wars leave nothing but destruction and broken families in their wake. "

"But?"

"We won't hesitate to wield our swords again if we are called for duty."

Nodding, you poured a cup for yourself and another for Peter.

"Sit." You instructed as you added honey to your tea, "We grow these for our women. In Theleria, fertility rites are quite sacred."

Peter eyed the simmering flower, the hot blend slowly turning into a subtle red-ish hue.

"But for men, it's just another drink for energy boosting" You smiled, "Thelerians are avid tea drinkers."

"Not my business to prey in, but... You're to kill that woman?"

"The Queen is. Can't pry away that from my mother. My people found out she is mingled with King Fisk's men. And thanks to her influence on my father, my kingdom just lost a couple more lands to him."

The tea's flavor blooming so sweetly in your mouth. A stark contrast in the sourness of your words.

"I don't like mistresses for that exact motive. Sure, love can be displayed with them, since royals get together to secure territory, legacies and the like, nothing more nothing less."

A sigh.

"I truly wouldn't want for the king of Arachne to fall under the same curse we have."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Some of our past kings have had a fair share of mistresses. And all of them have had a favorite that for some reason, turn out to be calamities."

Another sip of your tea, "I'm aware that such position influences greatly in a king's judgement. Sadly our past kings thought with their groin." Your eyes stared off at your drink, "And little by little they engaged in wars that costed our kingdom greatly."

"King Miguel is wise enough to not fall under such things."

"Not to underestimate his reasoning, but these women are cunning. You don't see them coming until is too late."

"Princess. I promise you, it's not the case with the king. Please, don't waver your faith in him."

"I will trust your word, ser."

Peter nodded with a solemn nod.

"How... -"

"Will the Queen dispose of her?"

Shrugging you finished your tea

"That is up to her. One would think that my mother would enjoy this, be satisfied even, but little do people know is that she is in pain."

"Pain?"

"Indeed. She never managed to get my father's love entirely, as it was an arranged marriage as well. And after my brother's passing it turned worst. My father's behavior I mean."

Peter sipped his now warm tea, for his surprise it was mellow and sweet tasting.

"He shut himself off from everyone. My mother specially. But with that woman, he seemed a different man. Even I was a fool to believe their supposed romance."

You ate a little candied flower before speaking again, trying to sweeten your mouth after the acrid words.

"It's not easy for her to get rid of my father's source of... twisted joy. But her treason to this kingdom weighs more than a heartache."

"If you were in this position-"

"I am, somehow, ser. And I hope I never meet them."

Peter's lips pursed and nodded

"Would you proceed like your mother?"

"No. I'd step away. There is no business for me to do in that situation. Can't get in between two people that seek eachother."

"I see"

"Why?"

"Just thinking. What if it's a one sided thing?"

"I'd need you to be more specific on that, ser."

"What if the king doesn't partake anymore in such activities, but the other... part, seeks him?"

"Still. Why would he keep them around to begin with, if he has no intention of such activities?"

You sighed once more, "It's more complicated than that, ser. I know that King Miguel has had concubines or mistresses before. But it's confusing."

"Confusing?"

"I'm not one to be authoritarian, and I know it's tradition for you and the rest of the continent. But in my kingdom, mistresses are... heavily frowned upon."

"May I ask why?"

"We value, respect and cherish those whom we decide to share our lives with. Adding someone else in the picture would not only make our partner feel unworthy."

You wet your lips after much talking, "But rejected even, a clear 'I do not need you nor want you'. My father was the fourth king in following such wretched customs."

"Do you feel disrespected, your highness?" Peter tried carefully, and your eyes casted down.

"I'd be a liar if I say I don't, even though prince Gabriel apologized. But customs are customs, I suppose."

Peter could only sigh, disheartened. Naturally he'd had to inform back to Miguel, however your words had opened a new perspective to him. He could now understand why you were so upset about how everything displayed.

Still, the drunk habits of prince Gabriel weren't appreciated.

"Wander the city, have some fun while you're here. I am to remain whitin the castle anyways. Must prepare my father's medical dosage and then I'll have some tea with Lucille."

You stood and left, cutting him short before he could reply.

-----

In the end, the execution of Sarina was a quick beheading, once the king had enough color on his cheeks, you were set to go. With a heavy heart you said your goodbyes to Lucille and your mother, who you had shared the past events.

"If he keeps causing you pain, return. We'll find a better solution. I will not tolerate you to end up like me."

She had said, comforting you at her best. Gwen, Hobie and Webslinger had toured the city with the help of Lucille. They carried some souvenirs back at work. You on the other hand, had been keeping your attention at your needlework all your way back to Arachne.

It took you two days to arrive, three and a half to stay and another one and half day to arrive. A whole week.

The scenery had changed, the might and grandeur welcomed you with open arms once more. Calling you, demanding your presence at the castle as red eyes settled on the window, watching from the horizon at the door, expecting; preying.

His eyes lit up with keen interest as your carriage stopped within the porch. Peter helped you out, Gwen and Hobie followed you as Webslinger returned to his post.

Peter arrived minutes later, a turgid expression painted in his face. Miguel didn't know if to feel worried or even more distressed.

"Report."

"Hello to you too, pal. Glad to see your sour face again."

Miguel exhaled deeply, begging for patience to heavens.

"Hello, please report."

"What happened to your lip?"

Miguel's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Then I am not speaking."

"Ah que la chin-... Mira, Parker no estoy para juegos." (Fuckin sh... Look, I'm not in the mood.)

"Neither am I. So you better speak up. What happened?"

"Dana happened. Alright? Now fucking speak."

"You absolute cheater"

Miguel's eyes widened in anger at his words.

"Whatch your fucking tone, Parker."

"I give two flying ducks who you are right now. You slept with your mistress again? While the princess was gone?"

"Funny for you to think I have the time for that. I didn't. She barged in my chambers, told her to fuck off and she bit me instead."

It was Peter's turn for his eyes to widen as Miguel spat his words angrily, nearly seething.

"You should definitely put that rabid dog down. Why do you keep her around if you aren't engaging?"

"Because..." Miguel sighed, " Because I know what that...pinche zorra is capable of." (Fucking whore)

"Kill her then."

"No."

Peter deadpanned, "You've killed for less. You've killed other mistresses before!"

"No. Still, is not easy to get rid of someone like her. You think I don't want her out of this place?"

Peter sighed and removed his gauntlets.

"Everyone warned you about her."

"You act as if you weren't young and stupid."

"I told you, Jessica told you, even your mother that didn't like anyone warned you about her."

"I was nineteen! I had just been crowned."

"And now you see the consequences of spoiling a pet too much."

Sighing, both friend's fumes dissipated, Peter face grew somber as Miguel pinched the bridge of her nose.

"She feels disrespected."

"Who?"

"My hen."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow to him, confused.

"The princess! She explained a bit of her customs and yeah, it makes sense for her to be upset about Gabriel calling her a concubine."

"She's still upset about it?"

"Rightfully so."

Peter explained the conversation he had with you. The king's health, the motive of said illness, the execution; Lucille and your customs. As Peter spoke Miguel's face changed into many emotions. Confusion, anger, discomfit and a hint of sadness.

"That's pretty much about it."

Miguel chewed at the insides of his cheek and gave an exhausted groan.

"No puedo más. I... No puedo."

Miguel wanted to rip his hair out, or scream until his voice was raw. Instead he stood.

"I'll be right back. Tell Jessica to bring in a new dose."

The king left his office, he'd receive the reports later, his steps guided him to your chambers. he entered albeit unannounced.

"My goodness!" You squealed and quickly secured the robe that laid loosely on your shoulders and legs, around your body. Cheeks flaring.

Miguel turned around to give you some privacy while picking his palm with his nails.

"My apologies, Princesa."

Smooth and supple skin was engraved into his mind. He cleared his throat.

"It's... It's fine. Didn't expect your visit. I am dressed."

A shame.

A little part of his brain screamed as he glared at none in particular for such thought. He turned around and you were fumbling with some things inside a little wooden box.

Your face lit up, when pulling out a piece of fabric with an intricate embroidery design. It was Arachne's and Theleria's emblem, woven together in the richest threads colors he had imported.

You stepped closer and offered it to him.

"A gift for you. I cannot express my gratitude enough for allowing me to see my family again, my lord."

"You did this?"

The fabric felt soft on his calloused ones, he was marveled. He'd never had enough time to indulge his own desires and hobbies as they were long gone forgotten and replaced by countless hours of work.

"In my spare time. Been planning on making this for quite a while. And now that I've finally finished it, it's yours."

You placed the thing on his hand and smiled

"Do you like it?"

"I do" He smiled gently, "Thanks. You're quite skilled in this."

"Thank you, ser."

A pregnant pause fell upon you both. Eyes squinting at the broken flesh of his bottom lip. Your fingers examinated it gently. It was a bold move considering you had only touched him once before, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Are you alright?"

A sudden adrenaline rush came to him. His mouth went dry at the sudden proximity you had created between the both. You couldn't help it, the healer in you always took over whenever seeing a wound.

"I injured myself." He lied and his mouth felt dirty, his heart gave a doleful beat as you frowned in concern.

"If stressed, lavender will relax you. Would you like me to prepare some for you?"

"It's alright. Just a stupid injury."

"I differ, but this one isn't that bad."

"Is the king better?" He quickly segued between topics and nodded with a smile at his question.

"He is. My mother and Lucille took a great care of him. I just added the finishing touches to his health."

"What about the Queen?"

"Oh? She is alright. Thanks for asking."

"Do you miss them?"

"Dearly. But my duties remain here. They will be fine."

"I'm glad you made it back. Unscathed I mean."

"Thank you."

Again, he cleared his throat at the uncomfortable silence.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, your highness?"

"I'd like to introduce you to the council soon, we'll have a meeting someday this week. I'd like for you to attend."

"Oh? Sounds like I should prepare myself."

"You'll do just fine."

"Even though I am scared, I will be there. I'll take it as another chance to learn from your kingdom."

Your eagerness about something new always made his eyes soften.

"I will let you rest, Princesa."

He took your hand and kissed the back of your palm. Your cheeks burned again.

"Have a good night."

"You too, my lord."

As Miguel left, his hands caressed and scrutinized the fabric. Your dedication shown in the pristine weave. A red skull spider like symbol surrounded by a wreath of roses.

A symbol of your future union. And now it was all his. He was glad you were home unscathed, that you saw your family and friends. But Peter's words had caused such effect on him that humbled him right away.

He wasn't aware of your customs, never really took the time to take a look on it. Which costed him a big time of his trust. He had disrespected you without knowing, and it was all up to him to fix it properly.

The thought of Dana touching him made him feel greatly repulsed. Touches that he once got lost in, were now selfish yanks and pulls that suffocated and irked him. Contrary to yours, that not only healed, but treated him with respect.

You didn't pressured him into things. You understood his motives, and how his time was used. But still, after reading your diary, he knew he also had to make an effort to keep you included and not sought after just when the conditions demanded your presence.

Exhaustion finally took a grip on him, he just removed his armoring and clothes, too quanked to even remove his shoes, limbs too heavy to keep moving. The bed under him creaked by his weight and for once in a long while, Miguel followed Jessica's advice and went to sleep early. No bad dreams nor ill heartbeats hunted him.

-------

Taglist:

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[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART THREE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, Pedro being a dick but also a tiny little bit of fluff

A/N: I'm so sorry but I can't manually tag anyone on the post, the app won't just let me do it!

1.7k words

PART ONE | PART TWO

If someone had asked Pedro where he got his obsession with you from, he would be too embarrassed to tell. But first things first, he would clarify that he was not obsessed with you, he could never have such a weird, creepy feeling towards you. He loved you. He loved you like a friend, like a brother, he cared for you, he enjoyed having you in his life, you always supported him, believed in him and he was so grateful for that. He had never had enough of you in his life, except when you demanded something more than he could give you. He couldn't be your boyfriend, he just couldn't imagine mixing things up like that, of course you were pretty, he wasn't crazy to think otherwise, but how could he give you something he didn't have? You were young, he was older, you probably would want to get married and have kids, and well, he had chances of that throughout his life with a few women and he always backed down from this kind of commitment. Plus, after his much deserved breakthrough he was finally able to experience the Hollywood lifestyle for bit, women, parties, money. He would've been crazy if he'd said no to that, right?

Still, he didn't get why for the past few days he just couldn't get you out of his mind, of course, you two were friends, he worried about you, as you hadn't been talking much and though he knew damn well what he did to you in order to make you pissed off at him, he still pretended he didn't. He told himself it wasn't a big deal, he even convinced himself if you'd found a hot guy at the party, you would've the same to him. In his defense, there were probably hundreds of attractive men there, and you could have hooked up with any of them, so there was no need to throw a fit. Well, that was just what he told himself when he felt his heart clench at the sight of you online and not talking to him, or when you saw you posting stories with your friends or daily things you once shared with him, and saw he wasn't included.

Then, he began dreaming about you. And that was something he did not expect. Every night he would have the same dream over and over, he'd would see you in his home, looking comfortably and cozy on his couch, curling up in a blanket, sometimes with a book in hands or sometimes watching TV. When this little toddler would come running towards you and jumping onto your lap, giggling and calling you mommy. Even in the unconscious of sleep, his heart still clenched at the sight, especially when the kid would look towards him. Sometimes, the toddler was a little boy, and sometimes it was a little girl. When he dreamed about you and the boy, he always had the same eyes as Pedro and the messy hair. When he dreamed about the little princess and you, she looked exactly like a tiny version of you, but with the same beautiful brown eyes as well.

Pedro then, would wake up with a gasp and panting, rubbing his hands over his face and looking around. The dream always felt so real and each time he went to sleep, the desire to see you again grew stronger and stronger inside of him. So it was a fair assumption that he waited excitedly to see you at the dinner party he was throwing. There were other people attending, of course but he couldn't even hide the fact that the only one that truly mattered was you.

Pedro waited for you the whole night, he was warm and sweet to everybody, as always, greeting people, making them comfortable and being the star of the party, but he felt something was missing. You were missing. He still checked his phone anxiously every ten minutes to see if you'd texted him, maybe to let him know you'd be late or something but couldn't hide his disappointment when he got nothing. Eventually people got hungry and he had no other choice but to serve dinner. He had picked your favorite dish and couldn't wait to see your face once you realized it, but as you never showed up, he didn't get the chance to see your beautiful eyes lighting up and your sweet smile.

He sighed heavily once the last guests left his house and grabbed his phone one more time. He had texted you multiple times during the evening and it wasn't worth it, so he went to bed instead, knowing he'd see you at least in his dreams.

•••

You decided to go to the gym after days of not showing up, you would always say you were too busy with work, or your finals but the truth was you were straight up avoiding Pedro. You just didn't want to risk running into him there and have to face him, not when his gym clothes hung tight against his fit body, or when he smiled at you, his skin with the sweaty glow of someone who just finished an intense activity, one that you fantasized very often. No, you couldn't let yourself be fooled again, if he wasn't going to be a decent friend, then you weren't even sure if you still wanted to be friends. But that was not the time to depress yourself overthinking about that. You grabbed your gear and headed to the gym.

Pedro had already worked out that day, but his phone beeped when he got a new notification. He'd turned on the notifications of your profile, so he'd know whenever you made a new post. Opening your story he saw you were in your usual gym clothes

"Ay ay princesa, tienes un cuerpo maravilloso" he whispered as he watched his picture and frowned as he noticed he hadn't seen you in forever at the gym and groaned, finally realizing you were avoiding him on purpose. He felt so angry he decided he would talk to you personally, even if he had to follow you to the gym.

He didn't get much traffic on the way and grinned as he saw your car at the parking lot. Getting his sunglasses on, he walked through the sidewalk and entered the building, greeting everyone he knew and looking for you. It didn't take long for him to recognize your frame, he'd been watching your body for a couple of years and enjoying the view to the point he could recognize you in a crowd of people. He only didn't recognize the man that was next to you. You were getting ready for yoga practice and doing stretching exercises with the help of the guy Pedro had never seen. He was taller than Pedro, and more muscular as well. Judging by the way other yoga girls looked at him, he could assume your new friend could be considered handsome.

And he didn't like that.

In fact, he hated it.

If Pedro thought he was angry when he found out he was being avoided by you, he was in for a ride when he saw the moment the man placed his hands on your hips. You had to bend over and stretch and he was giving you support, but to Pedro that was a real absurd. How could that asshole touch you like that in front of everyone? How could you not say anything? For so long he was the only one who touched you like that, even if it wasn't in a erotic way, still, he was the only man who had his hands on you.

His blood boiled and he never felt that way, actually he did, several times when he was dating other women throughout his life, but he never felt that towards you. At that point he didn't even know if he should go and talk to you, he actually felt ashamed of being there, watching you from afar like a goddamn stalker. He was about to turn back and leave when he heard the yoga structure dismissing the class and your giggles as the other man got behind to talk to you alone. He could hear only your muffled voices but was able to catch some of the conversation and quickly learned the guy's name was Liev. He rolled his eyes, finding the whole scene pathetic and infuriating but stopped once more when he heard you agreeing to go out for a coffee with him.

Pedro felt rage shake his body, he didn't believe you ditched him and the dinner he'd especially made for you but yet thought it was acceptable to go out with a guy you had just met. He wanted to storm into the room, get you away from that weird guy and put some sense into your mind, but apparently it was no use.

He quickly returned to the parking lot and got into his car, trying to calm down and think straight. There was nothing he could do, he wasn't your boyfriend, at that point he wasn't even sure if you were still friends and yet he was possessive, you were his and no one else's.

He saw you walking out with Liev and decided to follow you, feeling his heart clench once he realized you went to the bakery you both used to go at least once in a week. Pedro felt such disappointment he couldn't put into words, how dare you do this to him?

He wanted answers, so he drove to your house.

An hour later you returned home, you felt tired from your workout session, but also a little excited at the man you'd met. He was very handsome and nice, and you figured there was no harm in spending some time with you, so you went for a cup of coffee with him, and that turned out to be two cups of coffee and one slice of strawberry cake, and you were not disappointed, he was sweet and fun. It reminded you a little of when you first became friends with Pedro, which brought a pang to your chest and you quickly dismissed, reminding yourself Liev's intentions were different, especially at how much he flirted with you. You placed your gym bag down and walked through the living room.

"We gotta talk, Y/N" Pedro's voice was cold and made you jump, startled as you turned back and saw him sitting on the couch. You swallowed hard, never expecting to find him there, watching you like a predator.

_____

A/N: Two things: I confess I was kinda anxious to post this because the first two pieces people really enjoyed it and I was worried this one wasn't good enough, so I hope with all my heart you guys didn't find it bad.

Also, I chose the name Liev, because of Liev Schreiber, but it was a just because choice. In real life he's taller than Pedro and his body type is more of a bulk, which makes him bigger and he's also older too (55yrs) but it won't be relevant for the story (yet) so you can picture whoever you want!

[chervbs]

you and i — s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

synopsis: you’re in love with your best friend, steve. steve is in love with you. you would think it’s simple, right? well, according to steve, you would be wrong.

warnings: im shit at summaries, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, mentions of underage drinking and smoking, mentions of st*ncy, season 3 tings, nancy and robin are good friends, bit of angst, bit of fluff, canon violence, blood, injuries, mentions of vomit, cursing?, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: this fic is completely inspired by the events that lead up to my first relationship. yes, I’m completely projecting to deal with my own experiences and heartbreak, but don’t you worry, this has a much happier ending than my relationship did. also the title is from the one direction song as it was the “our song” of said relationship. pls don’t let this one flop that would be embarrassing. gif isn’t mine.

You weren’t quite sure when you feelings for Steve Harrington transitioned from platonic to romantic. 

It seemed like one minute he was as your best friend–an unlikely one, but after all you’d seen together in the last year, your best friend nonetheless–and the next he was consuming your every waking thought. 

At first you assumed the timing couldn’t have been better, his relationship with Nancy having just ended. Until you realized just how heartbroken he was, and the fact that Nancy was also one of your best friends. How would it look for you to swoop in right after her and Steve broke up?

Eventually you realized that it clearly wouldn’t have been so bad, as Nancy had quickly moved on to a relationship with Jonathan not long after. 

Not that you judged her for it, but you didn’t understand how she could dismiss her relationship with Steve so easily, not when you were the one pining for his love and he was the one sulking and staring longingly at her and Jonathan’s intertwined hands.

It didn’t seem fair that she held his attention even after breaking his heart when she didn’t even love him like you did. 

But then his attention seemed to fall on you, most of your time being spent in each other’s presence and your bond growing even stronger during the summer of ‘84. 

So strong that you’d even began to silently suspect that maybe, just maybe, he’d began to like you back. You’d thought it was all in your head, your imagination running wild in order to cope with what you thought were unrequited feelings. But then Nancy made a comment during one of your sleepovers that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. 

“I see the way he looks at you.” Nancy had spoken out of the blue, completely off topic from your previous conversation about this years summer reading. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you blinked in confusion. “What?”

The brunette smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Steve. He likes you.” 

Your mouth fell open, breath hitching in your throat as you searched for something to say. “You’re crazy.” Was all you managed to scoff out, face burning and hoping that she didn’t notice how flustered you’d become by her words.

She noticed. The grin she wore softened, realizing how deeply the idea affected you. “Am I? You’re all he ever talks about. Every conversation we have have he seems to always find a way to bring you up. The two of you are always together, always touching, and like I said–I see the way he looks at you. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

You mouth became so dry you had to reach for the water bottle on Nancy’s nightstand, taking down swigs of water in an attempt to calm down your racing heart and increasing body temperature. When did Nancy’s room get so hot?

Nancy just watched you with poorly concealed amusement. “You okay?”

You screwed the plastic cap of the water bottle back on with shaky hands, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

She gave you a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because you also have feelings for Steve?” You’re internally grateful you weren’t still gulping down water, because you’re sure you would have choked if you were. 

“Okay, it was a joke before but now I’m definitely questioning your sanity, Nance.” You avoided her eyes as you spoke, occupying yourself with a bottle of red nail polish, suddenly feeling like your fingers needed a pop of color. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from but I can promise you they’re not true. I’m fairly certain Steve still has a thing for you. Not that it would matter because I definitely don’t have feelings for him and even if I did that would be completely breaking girl code and I would never do that to you–“

Nancy said your name, pulling your eyes away from your now red thumbnail to her face instead, taking in her comforting smile. 

“It’s okay,” You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Nancy sighed. “Look, I didn’t want to meddle because it honestly not my business, but it’s borderline painful how oblivious the two of you are.” She paused to take your hands into hers. “No matter what me and Steve had before, it’s nothing like what you two have now. As great as he was, I know now that I never really loved him, not like I know you do. And definitely not like he loves you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, and Nancy seemed to realize this. She squeezed your hands gently. “Just think about it, okay? And talk to Steve.”

After your talk, you couldn’t help but take notice of the things Nancy mentioned. You two did spend a lot of time together, and you realized that he did indeed always seem to have an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your lower back or his leg pressed up against yours. A few quick questions to your group of friends, who were all aware of your feelings and apparently of Steve’s as well, confirmed Nancy’s observation of him constantly talking about you. And when you stole quick glances at him from your peripherals, he was always focused on you. 

The more you sat on the thought, the more it seemed to good to be true. But between Nancy and the rest of your friends contributing to the idea, it was hard not to get your hopes up.

You really should’ve known better.

-

It took a while for you to work up the courage to talk to Steve about your feelings, but as it turns out, it would happen in a much more casual way than you’d anticipated.

“I had a really interesting conversation with Nancy the other day.” He had blurted. It was late in the night on a Friday, the two of you lounging by his pool, bodies relaxed by the combination of the soft blue light from the water and the alcohol running through your system from the couple of beers you’d consumed. 

Your head was a bit too hazy for you to realize what he could’ve been talking about, so you twisted your neck to lazily look over at him. “‘Bout what?” 

“About how we our feelings for each other.” 

For a moment you’d thought you were imagining the words. Either that or you were heaving a dream-no, a nightmare. You silently pinched your arm. Definitely still awake.

Realizing you hadn’t replied, you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Oh.”

You resisted the urge to facepalm at your answer. 

Steve’s lips lifted at the corners, gazing at you with a fondness in his eyes that you missed, your own gaze focused on the swaying pool water.  

“Yup. Told me all about how oblivious we’ve both been. Really opened my eyes.” He spoke softly. 

You’re lips rolled into your mouth, hoping Steve couldn’t hear the way your heart pounded against your rib cage. “Did it?” 

He nodded, expression becoming slightly pained as he spoke his next words. “It did. Because I realized two things after. One, that I do have feelings for you.” 

Your head slowly lifted to meet his eyes, the depth of his gaze knocking the breath out of your chest. “You do?” The slight eagerness in your tone told him well enough that you felt the same way, which both filled him with joy and with guilt.

He seemed hesitant to answer, but when he did he sounded sure. “I do.” 

You tried not to show the fear you felt on your face. “It sounds like there’s a but in there.” You forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded genuine and not as pained as it felt.

“Yeah, um…that was the second thing.” Your eyes raked over his form, his hand that wasn’t holding his bottle was trembling and you could tell that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. “I did realize that I have feelings for you, that’s for sure. And I wish this was simple enough for that to be it, but…” His hands fell into his face, seemingly unable to spit out the words.

“Steve?” You called quietly. You waited for his eyes to meet yours. “It’s okay. Whatever you need to say, you can tell me. You know that.”

By some miracle, your words seemed to bring him enough comfort and confidence to  say what he needed to. Though, once he did, you really wished they wouldn’t have.

“But I still have feelings for Nancy too.” 

You really thought that pining after Steve and thinking he didn’t feel the same was the worst pain you’d felt. Turns out, you were very wrong. 

“Oh.” 

Steve sighed, his left hand raking through his hair, unable to meet your eyes. “I know how I feel about you, and I know how you feel about me. But I don’t want to start anything with you knowing that I won’t be able to give all of myself to you. Not yet. It’s not fair to you and I would never forgive myself if I put you through the same thing I went through.” 

You could only bring yourself to nod slowly,

attempting to process the information while ignoring the ache in your chest.

Steve spoke your name softly, “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

When you met his eyes, it was easy to see the guilt and the pain behind them. It brought you a little bit of comfort, knowing that he wasn’t just saying this to avoid being with you and he genuinely wanted to do what was best for both of you. 

Still, the hurt greatly outweighed the comfort.

“Yeah.” You breathed after a few seconds. “Yeah, I get it. It’s for the best.” 

You should have known better 

-

If your friends noticed anything different between you and Steve, they didn’t say anything about it. 

You’d made the conscious decision to distance yourself from Steve, for the sake of your sanity and your hearts. It wasn’t enough for a divide to have been created, but it was enough to be able to pretend like you were never in love with your best friend in the first place. 

Steve had definitely taken notice to your distance, but other than a small frown that appeared on his face, he didn’t utter a word. He knew why, you knew he knew, and he couldn’t blame you. 

Life after that got kind of crazy. Not any crazier than the Demogorgan or the alternate dimension that sat under Hawkins, but it allowed you to somewhat forget about your situation.

You and Steve both graduated during the Spring of 1985, taking jobs at the newly built Starcourt Mall that summer. He’d began working at the Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream shop, while you worked at the Merry-Go-Round just outside of the food court. They weren’t the cushiest of jobs, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy your employee discount. 

Steve seemed to be enjoying his job for the most part. Sure he had to wear a cheesy sailor costume and deal with Erica Sinclair coming in nearly every day and pestering them for enough free samples to make a regular cup of ice cream, but he did get to encounter a lot of cute girls that came in during the boiling Indiana summer heat. 

He never verbalized this perk, but by the score board made by his lovely coworker, Robin, who had come to be a great friend to you, he was very enthusiastic about his flirting. 

At first you’d felt almost betrayed by his advances towards other girls. Had the two of you not confessed you feelings to each other a year before? But then you rationalized that you had been the one to put a stop to anything that even remotely crossed the line between platonic and romantic. Maybe he’d figured you’d lost feelings for him?

Either way it was painful to watch, but also slightly satisfying whenever a pretty girl would reject him. Not that you’d ever admit it.

Robin was quick to pick up on the tension between the two of you, and you surprised yourself when you found it startlingly easy to open up to her. You suppose that the only other person you could ever really talk about your Steve problem with was Nancy, and that wasn’t necessarily an option anymore.

Nancy was none the wiser of the reason you and Steve never pursued a relationship. You didn’t want her to feel guilty for essentially being the reason why, although it was completely out of her control.

All she was told was that you had both agreed that your lives were too hectic for relationships at the moment and you’d decided that it was for the best to stay friends. 

Something told you she didn’t quite believe you, but she never pried, which you were thankful for.

Robin became a great outlet for your feelings for Steve, along with becoming one of your best friends. You were also sure to reciprocate her support which led to her heartfelt confession about her sexuality. 

For the first time in a while, you’re life seemed to be falling back into equilibrium. Steve was still your best friend, you were making a decent amount of money that would soon start going to your tuition to the community college in the fall, and there was nothing supernatural occurring in Hawkins. 

Apparently, you hadn’t learned your lesson about not getting your hopes up. 

If you had only agreed to take the bus home instead of accepting Steve’s offer for a ride, which you had to wait around for him and Robin to close at Scoops, an hour after your shift had ended, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up stranded in a Russian elevator beneath the mall. But life just never seemed to work in your favor, did it?

Honestly, you were surprised it had taken as long as it did for the five of you to get caught. After the Russian guard that Steve had–shockingly–been able to knock out recovered and alerted reinforcements, you’d all been chased throughout the base as an alarm sounded. If your circumstances weren’t already shitty enough, you’d also come face to face with yet another interdimensional gate that the Russians had opened, welcoming a new set of concerns for your group of friends you hadn’t seen in almost twenty four hours.

The guards chased you all into a room that conveniently contained an air duct in the floor that served as an escape. Steve was the last to enter, slamming the door and calling for both you and Robin to help him defend it against the group of guards that were, admittedly, much stronger than the three of you. 

Dustin and Erica were lucky enough to escape before they were able to knock down the door, and as you stared at the barrels of multiple guns, you could only hope they’d be able to find some help before it was too late. 

They’d separated you, Steve and Robin at first. You’d taken to wailing on the door as much as you could, hoping that if you annoyed them enough maybe you could get to answers as to where your friends were.

You were sure that you’d heard shouts in the distance, some sounding like Robin, some like Steve. The only difference we’re that Robins were like yours, begging for help and to be let out of your temporary prisons, but Steve’s weren’t intelligible words, only pained yells.

It only made you more persistent, and eventually your wish was granted. 

The door flew open so fast that you stumbled back, chest rising and falling in time with your quick breaths, heart pounding with fear at the sight of the Russian general that entered the room.

He was flanked by two other guards, smirking at you with malice. 

“We’ve received some noise complaints.” He joked, his words being followed by an accent. 

You scowled, “Where are my friends?” 

The man chuckled, ignoring your question and turning his head to look at the men behind him. He muttered something in Russian you couldn’t understand and suddenly the men were bounding towards you. They’d each taken a hold of your upper arms, forcing you down onto a chair that previously sat in the corner of the room and bounding your upper body to the back of it.

“I am going to ask you the same as i’ve asked your friends.” He leaned down towards you. “Who do you work for?”

Your face remained unchanged as you debated your next move. You could be honest and hope they’d believe you, though you weren’t sure that would work, so you went with your second option.

You leaned towards the man in the same manor he had, a small grin growing on your face. “Suck. My. Dick.” 

Part of you regretted your actions, but part of you was too satisfied with the anger you caused. The satisfaction was quickly overshadowed by the pain that began to spread across your face as his palm made contact with your cheek. 

The following few minutes would always be a blur, as the pain the men inflicted upon you began to mess with your senses. You didn’t know how much time had had passed, but a blow to your head was the last straw your body could take, the last thing you remember being the straps around your body loosen, and you were pulled from the chair.

-

When you’d finally came to you weren’t sure how much time had passed. You felt your body being shook before anything. Then came the sound of a screeching siren, and then you were able to pry your eyes open. 

There were two blurry figures hovering above you, and when your vision cleared, you realized it was Dustin and Erica, looking extremely concerned as they repeated your name. 

“…you okay? Y/N, can you hear me?” Dustin asked, waving his hand in front of your face. 

You squinted at the sudden intrusion of light from the room, looking around confused. “Dustin? Erica? What’s going on? What happened?” Your voice came out in a mess of mumbles as you struggled to sit up, realizing you’d been laying on the floor. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Erica  said, her large eyes trailing over the multiple bruises and cuts that were visible at first glance. 

There was a pause as you winced from the pounding in your head. “Um..I remember you guys leaving to get help, but not much after.” You admitted, gratefully accepting Dustin’s hand to help you stand. 

“Well, the good news is that you’re fairly caught up, meaning you’re possible concussion isn’t life threatening.” He offered, speaking hurriedly. “Think you’re good enough to run?” He asked, already halfway out the door.

With a silent nod, you followed him and Erica out the room you’d been kept it. The lead you just down the hall and it wasn’t until then that you noticed Dustin had one of the guards tasers in his hand. 

“Where did you get that?” You yelled frantically. Lord save you from Claudia Henderson should something happen to her baby. 

Dustin ignored your question and burst through another door, letting out a war cry and shoving the taser directly into the chest of the man stood in the room. 

You watched in both horror and amazement as the man shouted in pain before collapsing. The was a pause as Dustin looked back at you with an open mouth, like he was also surprised. “Never mind,” You panted, “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hey! Henderson!” Steve grinned as Dustin freed him from his restraints. “That’s crazy I was just talking about you.

“Oh, my god!” Robin laughed, kissing your cheek affectionately after you untied her. “I’m so happy to see you.”

You chuckled breathlessly, head still throbbing in pain. “Happy to see you too, Robbie, but we gotta run.” 

“Y/N…” Steve said breathily, looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above. “You’re here.”

You could tell immediately that something was wrong, but the still sounding siren reminded you of your hasty circumstances. “Hey Stevie,” You grinned. Grasping your hand with his, you began to pull him out just behind Dustin and Erica who were doing the same to a stumbling Robin. 

“Did the Russians hurt you?” Steve’s voice was slurred in a way you hadn’t heard since the last time you’d stayed at his house, smoking the weed he’d gotten from a dealer that went to Hawkins High. Some metal head who was a repeat senior. 

You glanced back, catching a glimpse of worried expression in his hazy eyes. “No, I’m fine, Steve.” You weren’t fine, not even close, but he didn’t need to know that. You doubted he’d remember anything you said once he sobered up from whatever drugs they had put into him and Robin. 

-

Steve and Robin found themselves in the movie theater restrooms, finally back above ground. You and Dustin had left Erica to keep watch of them after sticking them in a showing of Back to the Future.

They’d been able to sneak out without alerting their caretaker, but had to quickly run to the restroom after the drugs had reached their stomachs.

Steve wanted to test if the drugs had left their system along with their lunch from the day before. He asked Robin when the last time she peed her pants was. She said it was earlier with the Russians, when the doctor pulled out the bone saw. The she asked him a question.

“Have you...ever been in love?”

He feels like his first thought should have been Nancy, what with her being his first love. And yet, he couldn’t help but picture you. 

Steve realized a second later that he was silent for a bit too long. “Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.”

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolled her eyes. “She's such a priss.” Part of her resisted the urge to mention you, because that’s who she assumed he was going to say. Unlike you, Steve had been quiet about his feelings to Robin, figuring that with how close the two of you had gotten, she’d be the first to blab about his feelings for you. And he couldn’t have that happening, especially when it had been so long since that night he broke your heart. You’d always been so closed off about your emotions, worse after that night, and he wasn’t sure you even liked him anymore. 

Who was he too assume you’d wait around for him to lose feelings for Nancy?

But Robin wasn’t dumb. Sure she had a poor grasp of socials cues, but she also had two eyes and a very clever brain. It wasn’t difficult to see the pining stares the two of you gave each other when the other wasn’t looking and put to and two together.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Turns out, not really.

Robin scoffed a little. If she was gonna get Steve to confess his feelings for you willingly, she was gonna have to play this smart. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.” Steve answered, honestly and without hesitation.

“Why not?”

He could see his reflection in the black seat of the toilet, his swollen eye and busted lip serving as a reminder of what they had just been through. What you had been through. Though the events before him and Robin had fled to the bathroom to puke up the contents of their stomachs were hazy, he remembers your face when Dustin broke you all free–the dark print on your face that looked almost like a hand and the blood that dried under your nose. 

“I think it's because I found someone who's a little bit better for me.” He finally managed to say. “It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, you know, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie–"

“Wait, who's Suzie?” Robin asked.

Steve shrugged, “It's some girl from camp. I guess his girlfriend? To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” He let out a little chuckle. “But that's not...that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like…it's somebody that I didn't even talk to in school. Not until I met Nancy.” 

“And I don't even know why. Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or...I wouldn't be...prom king.” Steve shook his head at this own words. Everyday he regretted how he let himself act in high school. He knows that it was all for validation, compensating for what he didn’t receive as he grew up with an asshole for a father and a pushover for a mother. Still, it didn’t excuse any of his actions and not a day went by that he wished he had been better.

“It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out

with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like, these couple years i’ve known her, I have laughed harder than I have laughed...in a really long time.” 

You and Steve hadn’t grown close until after his breakup with Nancy. He can remember the night you two hung out for the first time. He’d been driving around town to clear his mind not long after Eleven had closed the gate to the Upside Down and Hawkins Lab had been exposed. During this drive is when he passed by the local play ground and spotted you, swinging all by yourself on the swing set. As he parked his car and approached you, he could see your head go back for a second and when he got closer, he could see a silver flask hidden under your jacket. To say he was worried was an understatement so he silently sat next you to, asking if you were okay. 

With the alcohol fogging your better judgement, you were quick to spill your thoughts to Steve. The nightmares you’d been having, the worry you felt for those poor kids you’d been babysitting for years and how they’d be able to handle this kind of trauma, the loneliness you felt now that Nancy had found a comfort in Jonathan and you had no one. In turn, Steve shared his own worries, his own heartbreak after Nancy and the pressures he received from his parents. After that night, you were inseparable.

“And she's smart. Way smarter than me. And she’s such a badass. She always puts people in their place, including me, and she handles all the bullshit we’ve been through like it just another Tuesday for her…you know? She's honestly unlike anyone

I've ever even met before.”

Robin couldn’t keep the grin off her face. God, she couldn’t wait to tell you that Steve was still head over heels for you. 

She never knew for sure, though she had her suspicions, that he still had feelings for you. But now she did know. And if Steve didn’t say something soon, she was gonna. 

“Robin?” He called after a long pause. “Robin, did you just OD in there?”

The blonde girl sighed, attempting to rein in the giddiness. The boy her best friend was in love with just admitted his feelings for said best friend, okay? Give her a break. “No. I...am still alive.”

Steve let his curiosity win and slid his body under the stall to sit across from Robin. “The floor's disgusting.” She told him. 

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood

and puke on my shirt,” He reminded her. “So…What do you think?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too anxious. He knew better than to think that Robin didn’t how you felt about him. She probably knew even better than Nancy, who had been your best friend for years. 

“About?” She replied coyly. 

Steve huffed. “This girl.”

Robin smirked back at him. “She sounds awesome.” By now Steve could tell she had gotten the hint. What was she messing with him for?

“She is awesome.” He agreed. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he's finally come to senses. And he needs to tell the girl how he feels because I know, for a fact, that she feels the same way.”

Steve’s face felt like it was on fire. More-so than it already did with the the fresh wounds. “Really? 'Cause I think he should too. This time without screwing up their friendship because he was too scared to get his heart broken again.” He sighed, head falling back to rest again the open door of the bathroom stall.

Robin cocked her head, asking him in a softer voice. “Is that why? Why you rejected her?”

“I didn’t–“ Steve groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I knew I wasn’t completely over Nancy yet and I know what it’s like to be with someone whose heart isn’t fully yours. I couldn’t put her through that…but yeah. I guess I was also just worried the same thing would happen and I think that if it did…it would’ve been so much worse than the first time.”

Steve knew in the back of his mind that, although he had loved Nancy, it didn’t even come close to how he felt for you. His love for you was all consuming. Not a day went by that you weren’t on his mind. It’s a wonder how he never noticed you before he got with Nancy, and even then you were just his girlfriends best friend. In hindsight, he should’ve known by the way you never took shit from Tommy and Carol, and him, that you were nothing like anyone he’d met before. If he had to have gone through the same situation of you falling out of love with him like with Nancy, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to survive that.

It was then that Robin knew. In the most vulnerable state she’d ever seen Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in. She knew there was now a bond between them that wasn’t there before the summer–hell, before even that day. She knew it was safe to make her own confession. 

“Do you remember what I said

about Click's class?”

-

The Battle of Starcourt would go on to be known as The Fire, to the general public. To you and to Steve and to your group of friends that had been there to defeat the Mindflayer, it would be a day to add to your list of traumatic, other-dimensional, bullshit that’s gonna plague you’re nightmares for the rest of your lives. 

But it was finally over. The Fire and Police departments had shown up to “rescue” all of you. They didn’t know why you’d all been the in the mall so late anyways, or what had started the fire. But there were plenty of government officials there that were aware of the dangers that occurred in Hawkins and were able to answer their questions with something believable.

After being check by paramedics, you were all driven home in police cars. You tried not to linger on the fact that none of the drivers were Hopper. You didn’t think you could take thinking about that for too long. Not yet.

Steve had insisted you and Robin stay at his. The deputy that drove you was hesitant, but after admitting that none of you wanted to be alone, he relented, dropping the three of you off at the Harrington household.  

“You can take the first shower, Robbie.” There was more than one shower in the house, but Robin didn’t argue. She didn’t need you to convince to leave the two of you alone for a bit, knowing that there were plenty of unspoken words between you that needed to be said. “I’m gonna help clean up his face a little.” 

Robin nodded silently, giving you a lingering hug that poured out the mutual appreciation you had for each other before heading upstairs.

You wordlessly pulled Steve into the guest bathroom on the first floor, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet and sitting yourself on the counter to be at eye level with him.

There was a silence that was only broken by the soft breathing from you can the occasional hisses of pain from Steve as you dabbed his eye with hydrogen peroxide.

“Sorry.” You whispered after a slightly too harsh wipe. The pad of your thumb ran lightly over the swollen skin, your other fingers resting over his cheek. 

Steve relaxed under your touch. He couldn’t remember the last time you two were this close. Most likely it was before that night. Before he hurt you and caused you to distance yourself. What an idiot, he thought.

“It’s okay.” He replied. Taking a chance, Steve let his hands come up, softly, almost cautiously, letting them find your hips. He could feel you stiffen, and he almost ripped his hands away, until you settled, scooting a little closer to his body. 

“Can I ask you something?” He said after a minute. The warmth of his palms had momentarily distracted you and it took a second to realize he’d said something. 

You blinked dumbly, “Yeah, go ahead.” You let out breathily, resuming your cleaning and hoping he didn’t notice how flustered his touch had made you. 

Steve could feel his heart pounding and he prayed you couldn’t feel it against his skin.

“Do you…still have feelings for me?”

You were immediately brought back to that fateful night. Really, you tried to best to forget it, but you’d never been able to succeed in that. It never left your mind, actually. How could you, when he flirted with other girls in front of you, or you felt the awkwardness when he was near Nancy and Jonathan. Nothing could make you forget the day Steve broke your heart.

“Y/N?” He whispered. 

The lump in your throat went down with a struggle. You pulled away from him slightly, occupying yourself with throwing away the bloody cotton ball you’d been using to clean his eye and soaking another one in more hydrogen peroxide. “Does it matter?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes, of course, it matters.” He insisted, voice raising a bit. “More than anything?”

You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that left your body. “Why, Steve? Why does it matter. Why do you need to know? I thought we’d been through this already and I’m sorry but I really don’t wanna go through it again-“

“It matters because I love you!” 

Your breath hitched, wide eyes gazing back at his. Finally Steve had uttered the words you’d been longing to hear for months now, and yet you didn’t know what to say. 

“Are you sure?”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to hear your own heart shatter, but in that moment he was convinced he did. To think that he finally gathered the courage to pour his heart out, and here you were, not sure if to believe him. He did that to you. This was his own doing. 

His hands left your sides to reach your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I’m promise you, with every fiber of my being, that i’ve never been more sure if anything in my life.” He admitted, thumb soothing the fading hand mark on your face, just as you had to go moments before.

“But Nancy–“

Steve shook his head. “There is no Nancy.” He smiled at you fondly. “Yes I was worried at first about still feeling something for her because I didn’t want to let myself be with you if I didn’t know for sure. But I know now that nothing i’ve ever felt for her compares to how much I’m in love with you.”

Unshed tears gathered in your eyes. It was overwhelming, hearing what you’d always wanted to hear and not knowing what it is that suddenly opened his eyes. 

You placed your hands atop of his, sniffling. “Where’s this coming from.”

Steve let his head hang, trying to find the right words to express how he felt. “Today. When the Russians got us and they took you from Robin and I. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.” His hands slid from your face but never strayed from your own, allowing you to intertwine your fingers with his and rest them on your lap. “Not knowing where you were or what they were doing to you. You should’ve heard me before they shot us up with whatever drugs those were. I wouldn’t stop asking about you ‘till they started beating me up.” 

The soft skin of your hands was a comfort to him and he leant his forehead up against your own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about if I was gonna see you again. If one or both of us didn’t make it out and I never would’ve gotten the chance to tell you how much I love you. All because I was too scared to confront my own feelings.”

You let go of one of his hands and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to lift his face. After a moment of analyzing the busted and bruised skin on his face, you pressed a feather light kiss against his eye. Steve let a breath out of his body, as if that kiss lifted all the weight from his shoulders. 

“I could kill every single one of those Russians for hurting you.“ You whispered, a couple treacherous tears escaping your eyes. “I was worried about you too. I always worry about you.”

“Yeah?” 

You nodded, smiling painfully. “Yeah. Even when you’re just at home. Cause I know your parents aren’t home and I hate the thought of you in this big house all alone when I know how you feel about it. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, I just couldn’t after….”

Steve gave you and understanding smile, guilt shining in those beautiful brown doe eyes that you adored. “I know. And I’m sorry too. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, and in doing what I thought was best, I did just that.“

You slid your hands to the back of his neck, messing with the hairs at the nape. “How about…we forget that night ever happened? I don’t know that you love me,” Your gaze met his, sipping your chin to look at him through your lashes. “And you don’t know that I love you.” 

Steve’s face lit up as if you’d just told him he won the lottery. He knew not even that feeling would compare to what he was feeling in this moment after hearing you say those three words. 

“Okay,” He grinned. “Y/N, I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t contain your giggles, feeling his own breaths of laughter hit your face as you moved closer to him. 

“Oh really? Well, Steve, I didn’t know that, actually. But I think you should know, that I’m in love with you too.” 

Steve gasped like you’d said something profound and you both collapsed into laughter. “You know what I also think?” You hummed in response. “I think you should kiss me.” 

You head leaned to the side and you tapped your chin twice in consideration. “Hmm. I think that’s a great idea.”

And you also think that you could die happy, finally knowing what Steve Harrington’s lips felt like against yours.

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[navybrat817]

Waiting a Little Longer

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky promises you an explanation, even if he can't give it to you right away. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You should've gone back down to greet everyone immediately after you changed out of your bathing suit. Instead, you sat beside the bed to watch the rain again. You weren't sure how long you stayed on the floor, but you knew you were hiding at that point. Why?

Probably because I'll scream at Steve for not waiting two more minutes so Bucky and I could talk. And then I'd have to tell him why I screamed when it's not his fault to begin with.

"Why didn't you ask me to dance, Bucky?" you whispered into the quiet room. You would've accepted in a heartbeat, but he didn't know that.

Did he think I'd turn him down if he asked?

What if it was a fear of rejection? If he had feelings for you and didn't tell you, it would be easy to blame him for keeping quiet. Whether he did or not, it fell on your shoulders, too, for not speaking up sooner. Maybe things would've immediately ended with him and Dot. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference.

Why is it so difficult to say "I love you"? Is vulnerability so much worse than uncertainty?

There was a long knock on the door followed by two quick taps. Bucky. It was his signature knock for you. In your mind, it was a silly thing that made you special.

"Come in."

The door slowly opened. "Hey," Bucky said. You imagined he was trying to spot you. "Are you sitting by the bed?"

Of course, he knows.

"You caught me," you answered, making no move to get up.

"The gang brought food and I think they're eager to see you."

"Okay. I'll be right down," you said before you realized Bucky walked around the bed to join you. His hair was still disheveled from the nap and the light from the lamp created a soft glow in his eyes. You doubted he had any idea how beautiful he was.

I should tell him.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he eased closer and took a seat beside you on the floor.

"Yeah. You know you don't need to worry about me," you assured him, feeling a bit dramatic for staring off into nothing in your room while everyone was downstairs waiting.

"Well, I do," he said.

"There's no need to," you said as he moved closer to you.

He offered for you to cuddle with him earlier, held you when you fell asleep in his arms, and now sat so close his arm and leg touched yours. It was as if personal space meant nothing to him. It was never a problem with you two in the past. Was he trying to get back in your orbit? Recreate the friendship the two of you used to have?

You refused to look deeper into his affection.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked.

"I guess I'm just a little disappointed," you admitted.

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Because we were having a good talk," you answered. And there were many things left unsaid.

"Fuck Steve," Bucky said with complete sincerity.

You swung your head toward him, not expecting those words. After a moment, you giggled and nudged his shoulder when he chuckled. "Seriously. Fuck Steve."

Your eyes swept over his profile when he laughed again, tempting you to lean into him. He said you were born to fly. Maybe he was the flame that led you to him. Not as a moth, but a butterfly. You couldn't get too close or you'd burn like you had before. He wasn't the one who set you on fire though.

You did that all on your own.

"I do owe you an explanation," he said after a moment, shifting to face you more. "But I can't give it to you right this second."

You tried not to let disappointment seep in when you saw the regret in his eyes. "Why not?" You asked, your voice barely rising above a whisper.

"I don't want to say what I need to say and then send you downstairs to our friends," he said, reaching over to take your hand. He let out a breath when you didn't pull away. "Because if it goes well and we can really start again, I want to be a little selfish and keep you to myself."

Keep me and don't let me go.

"And if it doesn't go the way you want?"

Or the way I want.

You didn't want to be pessimistic. Not when you were just out of reach of getting the closure you needed. There was, however, the need to be realistic. Maybe his expectations wouldn't align with yours. Or maybe his explanation would leave you hollow instead of full.

Which was exactly why you wanted answers so you could stop with the "what if" scenarios.

He intertwined your fingers and it was hard to ignore how natural it felt. "Then we'll figure out the next step so we have a good week."

"Okay," you agreed. You could handle that, as much as you wished you could discuss it then and there. "But I want you to tell me the truth and not what you think I want to hear," you added. It was a respectable thing to do.

"Am I allowed to ask for the same in return?"

"I think that's fair."

"Thank you," he said, his thumb running along your fingers as you tried to ignore how your heart began to race. "For everything."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, you did. You agreed to come here after I was a bad friend to you."

"Bucky, you-"

He held up a hand to stop you. "Let me just say this before we go downstairs, okay? Don't say I wasn't a bad friend because I was. I wasn't there for you, Butterfly," he said, a crack in his voice as he squeezed your hand. "You said it yourself that I wasn't a constant anymore and I'm the reason for that. It didn't matter that I was dating Dot. I should've reached out more and I'm so sorry."

I matter to him.

"You already apologized and I forgive you, Dreamboat," you said, wanting nothing more than to comfort him. You didn't realize the distance had eaten away at him so much, even after he said earlier that he missed you. "Do you think I'm going to hold a grudge because of some distance?"

You weren't the type of person to leave him hurting. Holding it against him would do more harm than good as it would disempower you. Like ice on a wound, it would only numb the pain for a short time without healing it.

"There never should've been distance between us in the first place," he said, keeping your hand in his as he pushed himself off the floor. "I want us on the same page again."

"Let's make sure we're reading the same book," you said with an encouraging smile as he helped you to your feet. "That would be a start."

"I think that's fair," Bucky smiled sweetly.

"Hey, you two!" Sam yelled up the stairs. "Food's getting cold."

"Be right down!" Bucky yelled, wincing when his voice echoed. "Sorry. I should've covered your ears."

"Yes. How dare you not do that?" you teased before he placed his hands over your ears. "Well, now I can't hear anything."

He laughed and dropped his hands to pull you into a hug. Your brain flickered on and off as you inhaled his scent. Your bed was so close. All you had to do was pull him to it.

No. Even if he wanted that, I'm not rushing it.

"I will give you that explanation," he promised.

"I know you will."

And you wouldn't allow anyone to interrupt that conversation.

Just a little longer... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Raverne."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Raverne.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Raverne? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Raverne returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Raverne. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Raverne lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Raverne shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Raverne. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Raverne differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Raverne.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. “Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Raverne. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Raverne. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Raverne smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Raverne suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Raverne would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Raverne, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Raverne back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Raverne…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Raverne.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Raverne, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Raverne, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Raverne do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Raverne too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Raverne?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Raverne… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

[normsdaughter]

Yearning. [Pt. 1]

Implied Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary - Simon takes user for a walk. Gets a little grumpy.

Warnings - lil bit of angst I guess?, no relationship no smut just friends who think their crush is unrequited, suggestive towards the end

‘Looking up at him, taking in the side profile of his soft-looking, warm pink lips, you’re practically put into a trance, imagining how soft they’d really be.’

——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/

You’re working on finishing up some paperwork for Captain Price, when your thoughts are interrupted by a rapping on your doorframe.

“Kid?” A gruff, British voice mumbles from your open door. Ghost, back from a mission. The mission that should’ve ended almost a week ago.

“Yes, sir?” You respond, spinning your desk chair around to face him.

“Fancy a walk, darl?”

“I’d love that.” You offer him a soft smile, slipping the finished paperwork into the palm of your hand. “Mind if we take a trip to the captains office?”

“Not at all.”

You walk, side by side, in comfortable silence towards Price’s office. Only one or two doors down, Simon halts, one finger sliding into one of your belt loops to stop you with him. Once your footsteps stop echoing, you can hear Price loudly grumbling and grunting, muttering noisily to himself.

“Kid, gi’me that.” Simon mutters, gesturing to the paperwork in your hand.

“What? Why?” You say, getting inexplicably defensive.

“He’s mad. He’ll snap at anyone when he’s mad.” Simon sighs, explaining it to you as if you’re a child.

“So?” You snap, furrowing your brow.

“I don’t want you to get fucking yelled at.”

“Oh.” You murmur, your eyes dropping to the ground. “ ‘m sorry.” You hand over the papers.

“Thank you.” He groans, like he’s tired of you. He’s not, though. He could never get tired of you. “Stay.” He instructs, turning away to step into Price’s office.

“What? Like a dog?” You say indignantly.

“Yes.” Simon says without a moment of thought. You frown at him again, even once he shuts the door of your captains office.

You hear the muffled voices of their discussion.

“The kid had me bring these into you, captain.” Simon says, in his typical, gruff, Simon-y voice.

“She has you doing chores for her, lieutenant?” You can practically hear the raised eyebrow in Captain Price’s tone. “I told you, Riley. You’re damn whipped.”

Simon exhales so loud that you can hear it from outside the room, followed by the captain dropping the stack of papers onto his desk.

“You’re dismissed, lieutenant.”

He doesn’t respond, instead immediately walking back out to you.

“I stayed.” You smile. “Like a dog.”

This draws a chuckle from Simon, as he steps closer and ruffles your hair like he’s patting a dog. “who’s a good girl?” He says, completely deadpan. Quickly, he realises his words, but you don’t seem to have a reaction, other than giggling.

So you keep walking, him leading the way, occasionally looking back to check that you’re still close.

Eventually you round a corner, pushing open the doors that let you out into the fresh and chilly night air. Simon leans back against the wall as soon as the two of you step out of the door, his arm slinking around your waist to stop you from moving ahead. He pushes you back against the wall, forcing you to stand beside him.

Shifting to face him, you raise an eyebrow. The action is pointless, as he’s looking down and rummaging through his pockets. He pulls out a lighter and a box of cigarettes, lifting the hem of his balaclava up over his chin and lips, showing off his sexy, sexy well-kept stubble.

“How was your mission?” You offer blandly, unable to bear the quietness of the night. “Took longer than you said.”

He puffs out a cloud of smoke, tilting his head back “Was alright. My back hurts like a bitch, though.” He inhales on his cigarette before blowing out the smoke. “We got the location wrong at first. Needed t’ relocate. Tha’s why I was gone so long.”

“I missed you, Si..” You say, the emphasis on the emotion in your words a little heavy. Looking up at him, taking in the side profile of his soft-looking, warm pink lips, you’re practically put into a trance, imagining how soft they’d really be.

“I missed you too, darlin’. I know I’m not good with the emotional stuff, but I really did miss you. I need you to know that. I care about you, kid.” He mutters, loosely draping one of his arms around your waist and clumsily pulling you to his chest.

You accept his ungraceful attempt of a hug, gently wrapping your arms around him, like if you move too fast you’ll scare him away. Eventually, he gives you a couple pats on the back and releases you, and you take that as a sign to move back to your position beside him.

Simon stands next to you, sharing a comfortable silence as he breathes in on his cig and breathes out the smoke. Eventually, you kneel down on the ground, and he takes your sign of boredom as a segue to ramble on about the mission, blah blah Soap was annoying blah blah Price is no fun, so on and so fourth.

“It’s freezing out here.” You whine and pout after a while of him going on and on about details you wouldn’t care to listen to if he was talking about them butt naked covered in oil.

Simon looks down at you, taking in the sight of you on the ground, before he pulls off his black ribknit long sleeve and drops it in your lap. You pull it over your head. It was slightly loose on him. it is incredibly baggy on you.

He starts up a one-sided conversation about a night at the bar he had with the task force, occasionally interrupting himself to offer you a cigarette, but each time you just noncommittally shake your head.

As time goes on and it dwindles into the night, you become increasingly aware of your own tiredness and boredom. You miss the times where you and Simon weren’t really that close, and you’d have to carry every conversation.

“Help me up?” You say, looking up at him from where you kneel on the ground, with soft and heavy-lidded eyes.

He looks down at you briefly, before immediately tilting his head back, the further back part of his scalp resting against the wall. “Bloody hell. Don’t look at me like that. Christ.”

“Like what..?” You murmur, in a sad, pathetic tone of voice, as you place a hand on the wall to help yourself up.

“Like y’re about to fuckin’..” Simon groans, interrupting himself. “Suck me off or some shit.” He grunts, his eyes rapidly roaming the area. Focusing on everything but you.

You’re about to pull yourself to your feet, but something stops you. You look back over him, your eyes ending at his face. “Do you want me to?”

Simon sucks in a sharp breath. Yes. He stops himself from shouting out yes. He grits his teeth, still not meeting your eyes, refusing to do so much as look in your direction. “Goodnight.” He grunts, pushing the doors open and walking inside, letting them blow shut behind him.

“Your shirt?” You call out weakly.

“Keep it.” He calls out, his typicalally gravelly voice gravell-ier than usual as he desperately wishes his quarters were closer.

That night, you sleep in nothing but your panties and his shirt, diving into your imagination as you’re smothered by his scent.

——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/

tags:

let me know if u wanna be tagged in part 2

published 11/11/23

[academiaviktor]

[pining, unrequited love, nsfw mentions, older reader, etc.]

[wc: 1.6k]

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

Yuji didn’t realize how fucked he was until it was too late.

"Don't even bother," Fushiguro had mumbled to him as he walked the new and incredibly naive recruit around campus. He didn't need to look in his direction to know what Yuji was fixated on. "She'll eat you alive."

Yuji hardly registered his words, not while he watched one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen hand another sorcerer's ass to them.

You moved with such precision and poise, fixated on your target while you trained. Even if he didn't know much about being a jujutsu sorcerer, he could tell you were strong. Wildly so.

He made a conscious effort to pull his jaw back up from the floor, remembering that Fushiguro was still next to him. "Huh?"

The latter scoffed. "Y/n, I mean. Don't bother wasting your time. Many before you have tried to get with her and none of them have been successful. It's embarrassing at this point."

Yuji heard his warning, but something in him didn't care. Not while he watched you pin the other sorcerer to the ground with cursed energy emanating from your fists. "How old is she?"

Fushiguro clapped a hand against his back, only to fist the material of his uniform before dragging him off with a sigh. "Too old for you."

He was right. You were in your early 20s, and you typically spent most of your time with Ino—the only other person in your year. But that didn't stop you from hanging out with the others.

As time went on, Yuji's fixation only got worse.

It turned out, not only were you unattainable yet yearned for by many of your colleagues, you were also incredibly friendly. Even if Yuji and Fushiguro were much younger, that didn't stop you from dropping in and getting up to mischief with them.

You teased them both relentlessly, which only made him fall harder. Even Fushiguro received some of your light-hearted attention and tried his hardest to pretend like he didn't enjoy every time you called him "Gumi" or ruffled his hair, but Yuji was perceptive enough to catch the subtle color in his cheeks.

As he got to know you more, Yuji found himself struggling to get over that ever-growing longing to be with you. To be the sole recipient of your affections. To hold you and be the only one you needed. To be the one you unraveled for.

Those thoughts turned especially lewd in the middle of the night when he bit back his little whines as he pumped his cock all alone in his twin bed. He thought of only you: your effortless beauty, the way you smiled at him and laughed at his shitty jokes, or how you held your head up high knowing you possessed admirable strength and finesse.

He knew he was too young for you, but that part of him was always holding out hope for more. Hoping he might get to see your body in its completeness and find himself lucky enough to feel it for himself.

Those whines turned into whimpers as he stroked himself harder, imagining it was you pushing him to the edge instead. Making his thighs clench and his toes curl as his orgasm approached. Dissolving him into a shameful, desperate mess for a woman who likely only saw him as a kid.

He did everything in his power to keep his frantic sounds at bay, and to keep anyone else from hearing his eager little grunts as he flicked his thumb over his agonizingly hard tip, wishing it was your tongue.

Yuji knew he was fighting a losing battle in trying to suppress those feelings in his chest for you, especially when he pictured you just down the hall from him, fingers slipping into your wet pussy as you choked back your pretty moans. As you arched away from the bed with your head tipped back, gasping for breath.

God, he knew you'd sound like a siren in bed. Given how sensual and attentive you were in conversation, his imagination ran wild with that thought.

Every moan and whimper from your tantalizing lips would push him over the edge, and he wouldn't be able to stop himself from cumming hard.

Yuji bit down on his bottom lip as he finally released into his fist, struggling to stay quiet with every wave of pleasure moving through him. He could only picture you receiving his heavy load, taking every drop of his cum with your name on it.

He'd look down at the mess he made, glittering under the moonlight on his hand and belly as he caught his breath. Awash with shame every time, he knew it was a dangerous game to fuel his own delusions. He knew he was only making it worse for himself.

As embarrassed as he was to get off at the mere thought of you, aware of how depraved it was, Yuji couldn't help it. Eventually, thinking about you and your tight body was the only way he could get off.

Yuji didn't want to think of you that way, but he was in too deep to get himself back out. You were just too much, and he couldn't stop himself from fixating on every interaction you had with him, down to the very words you spoke to him.

You filled his head with fuzz every time you did so much as smile in his direction, especially when you'd throw your arms around him and Fushiguro as you walked somewhere, teasing them into blushing and stuttering uselessly over their words.

As much as they tried to be mostly professional about things, even the senseis and those with minimal affiliation with the school would look at you in a certain way.

He couldn't blame them, of course. You were perfect. Stupidly, completely perfect. But he knew that meant his range of competition was even wider than he initially thought.

Yuji never thought his own brother was someone he'd have to consider competition. Especially not when he introduced you two, hoping to ease Choso's transition into regular human society.

He did it with such ease, since you were an active part of his life, regardless of how unaware you were of his feelings.

"Choso, this is y/n. Y/n, this is my brother, Choso," he said, smiling that usual love-struck smile.

"Brother, huh?" You had questioned, holding a hand out to the man standing before you. "It's nice to meet you, Choso."

"N-nice to meet you, too..."

Yuji obviously knew Choso needed help socially, so he chalked that sheepish grin up to him being nervous about coming off weird or unnatural in conversations. He wasn't aware of how Choso's heart was beating irregularly, or how he was already struggling with that attraction he didn't quite understand.

What he didn't know was how immediately struck his brother was by the woman Yuji couldn't get out of his head. He didn't realize that by making the introduction, he was inadvertently creating a connection that would break his heart so completely, he didn't know how he would un-fuck himself from the whole situation.

Yuji didn't catch how his older brother was making heart-eyes at you while your group was busy having fun at a local fair. Yuji didn't see how flustered Choso was getting every time you looked at him. Every time you enthusiastically pulled him toward a ride you wanted to go on, or a game you wanted to play together.

Yuji was so wrapped up in his own feelings for you that he couldn't see how his own brother was lost in the throes of falling completely in love with you.

He was blindsided the moment Choso asked him what his feelings meant and how he should approach the situation. How he wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend, but he was afraid of messing up.

It was that moment when everything came crashing down around Yuji. Forced to give his brother half-hearted advice, he mumbled those words through tight lips as he fought back the wash of heat that consumed his entire body. The way his hands shook at the thought of losing you.

He kept it together for his brother.

He didn't hate Choso for it. He never could.

But Yuji was heartbroken all the same.

It broke even more each time he watched the two of you walking around, holding hands as you babbled on about something all the while Choso drank you in like you were the sun itself. Like you made the world go 'round, and he was just thankful to be in your presence.

That was how Yuji saw you too, but he couldn't let you know that. Not anymore.

He knew his brother would treat you right. He knew he could trust Choso with your heart, but it didn't make that burn easier to bear.

Even as he stomached it for everyone's sake, Yuji couldn't handle being in the same room as you two. Especially not whenever you curled into Choso while his arms wrapped around you, holding your body close to his like the pure gift you were. And definitely not when his brother would blush profusely every time you kissed him, only to giggle vibrantly at his reaction.

It had been a losing battle from the start, but when it came down to it, Yuji knew there was nothing he could do about it.

He was only a kid, after all.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

[pt. 2 ♡]

[bontenten]

METAMORPHOSES 03 || An Heir

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) WC: 3.9k Series Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, yandere, Naoya, misogyny, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation, manga spoilers, more dead doves

A/N: oh i veryy much enjoyed writing this chapter, ty for patience since last updates! 

Series Masterlist

“My lady, your condition can be considered stable now. Since this is your first pregnancy, there are still many things your body is not used to. The young master’s energy is also dense, causing your body to become frail. It’s paramount that you meditate everyday to keep your energies in balance for the developing child. I will write a prescription for a tonic which you should take three times daily. Rest and keep a stress-free, open mind until your delivery date.” 

The Zenin physician placed his tools back into his chest. He flipped open his notebook and began to scribble a list of ingredients. The tense atmosphere in the room settled down. 

“You will be the one responsible for bringing the medicine. Should anything happen, you will answer with your life in the disciplinary pit.” Naoya threatened. 

“Y-Yes, Young Master Naoya, of course. I will do everything in my power to take care of the lady.” 

You squeezed Naoya’s hand and tried to comfort the doctor currently scared out of his wits. “Thank you, Doctor. You may go now, I’m a bit tired.”

The earlier spasms of pain and vertigo had everyone in a panic. It came so suddenly, you were unprepared and before you knew it, you woke to Naoya’s immense killing intent burying the room.

To say that this pregnancy was difficult was an understatement.

--

After that incident, Naoya forbade you from having any form of excursion and threatened servants left and right to take care of menial tasks. You had to tell him to stop yelling so much lest he scared the baby in your belly. Only then would he quiet down a bit and mutter, "My son isn’t that useless."

“You know…we could have a girl too.” You waited for a response.

Naoya wrapped his arms around you, a hand resting over your belly. “I will have no weakling girl.” 

Then the two of you, along with the one growing inside of you, fell into slumber.

--

Akiko, having gone through the process of pregnancy and childbirth, often checked in on you and answered any questions you had. She was very strict about the pregnancy meditation exercises. Under her watch, there wasn’t a single day you could slack. The medicine tasted awful, but Akiko insisted you finish the whole bowl. Often, she watched you finish everything, with a piece of candy waiting to wash the bitter taste away. In many ways, she was the mother figure in your life.

Mai and Maki stopped spending time with you after they began their lessons. You wondered if you made the right choice in sending them to training, but ultimately, in this clan, you knew they had no choice. You knew they were talented, in ways that you could never amount to. Strength meant everything.

--

One evening, while Naoya was still at a clan meeting and Akiko was away, you decided to charge your old phone. You weren’t allowed anywhere near it during your pregnancy, not that you had much need for it. It was bad for the baby, was what they told you. But the device was still something for you to fiddle with, the size felt like it just belonged in the hand. You flipped it open. To your surprise, you had gotten a number of missed calls from someone you would never have imagined—Gojo Satoru. You hesitated, but dialed back, wondering what could have happened.

The sound of his voicemail was playing in your head already. Except he picked up.

“Finally, it’s been ages. When will your clan ever embrace new tech?”

“Satoru,” you greeted. “What a surprise, I didn’t think you would have anything come to me about.”

He chuckled. “Can’t I call if I missed you?” 

“I’m married now, if you need to be reminded.” You looked down at your midsection. “And very pregnant.”

“Oh, I know you’re knocked up.” The breathy voice seemed to tickle your ear. Gojo was probably laying down, on a couch or a bed. “A main branch Zenin spawn is probably pretty difficult I assume? How are you still doing?”

“Pampered suffocation.”

“Good, good. It’s probably best you’re relaxed, take a seat. How is the Zenin young master?”

“Naoya…yes, he treats me well.” You smiled at the memory of him during lunch. He had personally sliced and plated fruit for you.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think that his spouse would end up being you. Glad to hear it though. And have you talked with your father at all recently?”

No. 

“They’re busy,” you explained.

“Too busy to even visit or inquire about their daughter?”

Gojo’s question stumped you. The question that you had wondered about ever since the first day was finally spoken out loud. Even for a clan as strict as the Zen’in, surely if you couldn’t visit home, they could’ve paid you a visit? A phone call?

“I figured. What wonderful parents you have.” Gojo’s lighthearted voice switched to a serious tone. “I suppose you still deserve to know the truth.”

He explained that he’s been working on a perplexing phenomenon of curses in a few districts. There was typically some sort of pattern to where they appeared, their type, and their strength. The data was odd and Gojo had studied each of the cases in detail. But it didn’t make sense to you. 

“Satoru,” you interrupted him. “I’m not really following?”

“Did you not understand? I just explained—”

“Yes, but why,” you exasperated. Images of your clansmen, covered in a white cloth, being brought back from the streets flooded your mind. Blood-soaked bandages and screams while the clan physician strained himself to attend to all the wounded. The nights your mother stayed up late waiting for your father’s team to return. The visceral chaos and stench of death loomed over everyone you loved. "You know what happened. The cursed spirits had been growing in power and they were overrunning the clan's wards. If Naoya hadn't helped, more the sorcerers would've—"

A dry laugh cut you off. "Would've been just fine if not for the youngest son of Naobito trying to win you over. Helped your clan? Who even told you that? Was it your father when the Zenin proposed? And you really just believed them? You're more stupid than I had thought. Were you a shy, bashful bride eager to be a little plaything for your clan’s hero? You never even wondered why it was only your clan's ward that was badly affected? Time to wake up, princess. Why would anyone from your family want to speak to the sacrificial lamb and reason for all their suffering?"

Hang-up, your mind screamed at you. How dare he point the blame at you. Where were you when I was in trouble Satoru?

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to. A bastard and a dimwit make a lovely pair.”

You swallowed as your head grew dizzy and began breathing heavily in an attempt to intake more oxygen.

Gojo realized his harsh tone and sighed. “Are you still there? Listen, I know there wasn’t much you could’ve done anyway. I’m just telling you this because I suppose we were acquainted in our youth.”

Acquainted. Just acquainted. But more importantly, all that you have known, all that you believed for the past years were being torn apart and rearranged in the span of fifteen minutes.

“Yes. Thank you, Satoru,” you managed to whisper.

“I realize this is probably a surprise, but I also want to assure—” He was cut off by the sound of a woman calling his name in the background.

“I’m needed elsewhere; take care.” 

You set the phone down after Satoru hung up and sat in silence trying to piece together the information that was just dumped onto you. You fell back onto the mattress, a hand over your belly. A heaviness weighed down your chest. It was madness to believe the words of the man on the other side of the phone. What was he to you now? No one. Your father and mother explained everything to you. Who was he to tell you what was the truth?

The relief when everyone saw the Zenin clan symbol on the guest’s hakama couldn’t have been fabricated. The hope in people’s faces wasn’t a lie. Even though you were hiding behind the screen doors at the time, the sincerity in his voice when he asked your father for your hand had to be true. That man saved the whole clan. Serve him well. If Naoya was the hero, why were those the parting words from your family on the day of your wedding?

A quiet knock pulled you out of your thoughts. “My lady, I have brought your tonic.”

The room was completely dark already. Who knows how long you’ve laid there trying to make sense of everything? 

You dragged yourself to the door and found a young girl holding a wooden serving tray with a bowl of bitter, black liquid. “Lady Akiko is currently away. She tasked me to bring this to your ladyship.”

You picked up the bowl and quickly downed the contents. It didn’t taste quite as foul as you had remembered. “Is the meeting over?” 

“It should be ending around this time. Should I escort you to the main hall?”

“No...I can go by myself,” you said, dismissing her. 

You had to hear it from Naoya himself. He was your husband.

Every week, the main branch had a formal meeting. As you got closer to the main hall, you could hear the footsteps shuffling as the men in the room were wrapping up. Quite murmurs and grumbles over the meetings slipped through the cracks. The first person to exit the sliding door was Naoya. He had a scowl on his face, no doubt, the meeting took a turn for the worse as well, but it faded into a relaxed grin when he saw you, coming over.

“What a change to see you here waiting for me. I am starving—”

He was about to check on you when he noticed your blank expression and puffy eyes. You got straight to the point, spoiling the atmosphere in an instant.

"Naoya…”

Naoya’s eyes lost their initial glimmer. He noticed a few other clansmen looking your way.

“If there’s anything to discuss, you may bring it up later in our room,” he said firmly. He didn’t know the reason for your unsettling expression, but whatever it was that was on your mind, he did not want a scene.

Naoya thought back to the irritating meeting and the currently disintegrating relationship with the Gojo clan. The Gojos were being extremely selfish, trying to take control of the Jujutsu Sorcerer Committee's favor. All of them were envious of the Zenins, trying to push the clan off its pedestal. Naoya fumed at the thought of the six-eyed Satoru who had always been treated as the pride and hope of the jujutsu society. They were close in age, and despite the two never meeting often, Naoya heard more than enough about society's adulation of the infamous sorcerer.

He couldn’t hear what you were mumbling under your breath, but the few words he caught and the name of his nemesis told him that it was definitely not going to be a pleasant conversation. He easily scooped you up despite your protests and pounding fists on his shoulders. With a few long strides, entered the hallway near your quarters. Only then, away from prying eyes, did he set you down.

 “Is it true?”

Naoya heard it clearly this time.

He eyed you for a moment and scoffed, looking away in disdain. "Woman, what are you rambling on about right now? Can't you tell I'm not in a good mood? I said, let's go back."

“No.” Your irritation struck a nerve. “Tell me right now. Is it true that you were the one responsible for planting  those high-level curses into my clan's ward?"

Ignoring the squeeze on your arm, you continued, “Satoru told me everything.”

Naoya felt a vein throb in his temple when he heard the name slip from your mouth.

“How you plotted and controlled the curses to attack our sorcerers right after a battle. Those curses, they were all picked from the disciplinary room right? Special Zenin locked curses. You would let my people get hurt till they were close to death before showing up. Satoru told me everything, what more do you have to say?"

"Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Do you just blindly believe anything he tells you?"

"Who am I supposed to believe, you?” you snapped back. “Satoru told me how you threatened my family, that's why they never said anything to me up until now.” Maybe you would still be at home, with family and loved ones.

You glared at Naoya in shock as the sting on your face settled into a sharp burn. He took a step back and pointed at you, confused and disoriented. “You. You forced me.” 

 This was the first time he actually struck you in this way. 

"What are you going to do Naoya? Kill your own wife and child? Is that how you solve all of your problems? With your oh-so-powerful, inherited Zenin techniques?" You turned and began to walk away. "You're fucking pathetic."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" he roared after you. "Stop right there!"

There was no room for fear while fury lit your eyes. You ignored the rest of Naoya's threats and stormed back to your room. Naoya was responsible for everything. He lied to you. He manipulated everyone and oppressed your clan. And you believed all of his sweet words, and enjoyed his kisses and touches. Your numb cheek taunted you.

You slid the door open, but your feet couldn’t budget. You gasped and felt excruciating pain stabbing in your belly. You clutched your midsection as cold sweat ran down your back. The last thing you heard was someone frantically calling your name.

–

“Do something!” 

“Young Master, t-there’s no response.” 

“I don’t fucking care, do something!”

“W-We’ll have to induce labor…and—”

Naoya glared.

“Yes! Yes understood!”

--

The lights in the room were so bright. In just a couple of weeks, a life could have filled this space. It would have been a boy, just as everyone had hoped. Now only silence accompanies you and your breasts that ached painfully. You never even got to see him. Did he look like you or his father? 

You sat in the empty nursery room that you had spent the last few months pouring your time and feelings into. As if the loss of your unborn child hadn’t been difficult enough, the hushed whispers of the clan had been torturous. You had felt eyes from members of the main branch to the attendants, all hundred pairs of eyes surveying you whenever you had walked down the hall, scrutinizing the woman who was incapable of carrying the Zenin heir to full term.

You lost track of how long you sat in mourning. Time ticked by slowly, but eventually, a day became two days. A week passed by and to your horror, your breasts full and swollen with milk, finally had to empty its contents. Milk leaked out your nipples uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was the presence of the milk and no child in your arms to feed the liquid to. Reality finally hit you while you poured another cup of milk down the sink.

The door slid open. It was Akiko bringing your meal. She knelt down next to you and pulled you into her arms. Her steady hand ran over your shoulders as she quietly said, "If you want to cry, then just let it out. There's no one else here."

You felt your nose prickle as the familiar sensation of tears spilled from your eyes. They soaked through Akiko's kimono, but she did not seem to mind, only resting her hand on your back while you wailed. You blamed everything on the father of your unborn child. It was Naoya who was responsible, you were sure of it. He took the child from you with his temper and violence. You cried for yourself and your unborn child.

Mai and Maki had once confided in you that their mother gave up on them. They had told you that their mother never stood up for them in front of their father and that you had been the only one who tried to give them care and love. And here you were crying in their mother's arms as a failure. Akiko may not have been able to do everything for her girls, but you couldn't even protect your child's life. 

–

You just finished a bath and were about to go to sleep in the nursery again. It was the only place you had some privacy and peace. Except, the room wasn’t empty at all.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, arms folded.

Naoya saw you enter, and placed the decorative toy back on its shelf. He crossed over languidly, arm resting on the frame right over your head. His presence made you dizzy, but you refused to yield a single step. He also recently bathed, a bitter herbal scent clung to skin.

“Did you think that you could avoid me forever?” he murmured next to your ear.

Your eyes met with his. At this distance, you could make out the details of his irises. Naoya’s eyes were undeniably beautiful and intoxicating. “One day at a time, I’ll get there eventually.” You made a move to push him away.

“Foolish woman,” he chuckled and took your hands. “It’s time to go back to normal.”

Naoya pressed his lips on your palm. “I missed you. I need you,” he crooned. 

“Naoya, we can never be the same anymore. Not after—” You gestured to the room. “This.”

“We’ll have another. Once you’re with another, the clan will naturally stop talking.” 

“Don’t touch me. As if I’m some breeding cattle.” Naoya didn’t seem the least bit fazed by your attempts to break out of his grasp. His silence taunted you, daring you to challenge his authority. 

“I’ll never forgive you,” you snarled. All you could do was glare at him. “It’s all your fucking fault.”

Naoya tilted your face towards him. Fingers traveled down your neck and tightly squeezed. Your cheeks burned.

The air thickened as Naoya’s cursed energy began to fill the space. “In this lifetime, you belong to me. Accept your fate.”

Lips roughly closed over yours. The pressure around your neck made your head spin. Your fists hammered his chest in a futile attempt. 

Naoya yanked your robe open. Your nipples were heavy and swollen. Wet. He cupped your breast and squeezed the soft flesh, completely fixated on the spray of white milk spurting out. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but the relief you felt from the release felt so good.

“Did that feel good?” he sneered before tugging and pressing on your breast some more. The front of his robes was covered by wet splatters. 

 “N-No,” you rasp, feeling Naoya’s hand travel towards your navel, tugging the waist-tie that was barely circled around your waist. He lifted one of your thighs to expose your dripping entrance. Cold air brushed against your thighs. “Not in here. Not in this room,” you begged, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Troublesome woman,” Naoya muttered and set you down. He clasped his palms together and began to draw an immense amount of cursed energy. “Domain Expansion: Time Cell Moon Palace.”

The nursery melted away as the space transformed into a dark void. This was the first time you’ve been taken into a domain, and it made you feel both weak and nauseous. A giant eye stared down at you, iris dilated, prying, and peering into your existence.

“No complaints here, right? Don’t even think about escaping.” 

Everything happened so quickly. You felt your back sink into a fleshy substance, legs folded and knees pressed up against your face.

“Wait, Nao—” And he was in you. You gripped Naoya’s biceps to stabilize yourself, nails imprinted deeply. A shudder escaped your lips after the initial jolt of pain. By reflex, you clamped tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he growled. “How are you still so tight?”

The dull ache remained from the recent trauma remained with every thrust Naoya made. Pleasure and pain are tightly bonded together. Disgust at the moan that slipped from your throat that earned a predatory smile. It drove him to pound you harder. His rough hand squeezed your breasts, spraying your overflowing milk supply. It splashed onto his face dripping down his jawline onto your face and lips. This was perhaps the first and only time you could imagine tasting your own milk. Naoya wiped his face and licked the opaque fluid off his fingers.

“It’s sweet,” he remarked, surprised by the taste. And almost feral, as though he had discovered something rare and precious, he dipped his head down to lap up the tiny puddles on the contours of your body. His tongue traced your enlarged and pert nipples, sucking on the sensitive bud to encourage more milk flow. You arched your back towards him, grinding your hips desperately in tears as you reached your climax.

Naoya grunted, feeling close. He held onto your hips and increased his pace until he came in you, filling your womb with a load of hot, white seed.

The darkness that surrounded you began to falter under Naoya’s distraction. The momentary weakness that came with the sexual release was like a pinhole in a balloon. Darkness melted away. The voyeuring eye disappeared, replaced in your vision by a mobile with soft plushies hung on a cotton rope. Nausea washed away the lingering, twitching pleasure.

“Get out,” you hoarsely whispered.

Still drunk on hormones, Naoya felt dizzy and confused. “What did you say?” 

Milk and semen stuck to your skin. Mustering all the energy remaining in you, you repeated. "Get out. Get out. Get out."

The demand-plea came out in constricted wheezes as your body convulsed and shook.

"Tch. "A scowl replaced Naoya's drunken expression. Completely fed up, he left you laying among the stained blankets. "You make me sick, woman," he spat at you. 

The room was finally empty. You laid there unmoving and naked, staring blankly at the ceiling.

[rosewould]

one way; cbg

part i | part ii | part iii

🖱️⤻ pairing; afab!reader x beomgyu 🖱️⤻ word count; 6.9k 🖱️⤻ genre; enemies 2 enemies, smut, & angst 🖱️⤻ synopsis; you liked soobin but he didn't like you back. you've come to terms with this and moved on, but beomgyu hasn't. he's very sure he's onto you 🖱️⤻ warnings; hate sex, mean!gyu, slut shaming, breath play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, post orgasm torture (beomgyu rec), dubcon (just in case), blood (nothing crazy at all), pain play, breast play, biting, hair pulling, choking, spitting, unrequited crush, failed confession, you might hate mc?, takes a while for beommie to appear

⌨️⤻ this was very similar to stress relief, I'm aware. That's why it's not a two parter (liar) or a taehyun fic. alsoo while writing this I couldn't stop thinking about what the sex sounded like outside the door. Imagine soobin eavesdropping and being like "????"

"I think it sounds a little empty here." Soobin chews on his thumbnail as he fixates on the monitor in front of him. The LED lights in his room splash warm purple behind him. The bright desktop illuminated his upper body. His brows were furrowed, jaw clenching and unclenching. Eyes sharp as he examined the screen. Looking just as enchanting as ever.

"When in doubt, dump in some harmonies and background vocals. That's my motto, at least." You mumble, almost like a zombie. Your brain was on autopilot as you stared at him for way too long.

"Yeah, you said that already." Soobin laughs before looking over at you. Your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. He can sense the awkwardness as he focuses back on the screen.

"I feel like I'm harmonied out. I have no clue what to put here that doesn't sound repetitive."

You stare blankly at the screen. It took some genuine effort not to look at him again. You didn't want him to think you were weird, but the warm feeling you got whenever you looked at him was intoxicating.

"I dunno, I usually just test shit out until something sticks. I'm not professional, I just kinda wing it."

"I wouldn't say that. I've heard your work. You sound pretty professional to me."

Your heart begins beating prominently in your chest. Gulping, you try your damnedest not to look over at him even though it feels like you could explode. You can't tell whether this feeling sucked or was euphoric. You clench your fists over your jeans.

"A-are you okay? Are you feeling ill??" Soobin leans closer to you, worry evident in his voice.

"I'm okay..." your voice came out quieter than you intended to.

"Ah..." Soobin sounded a bit disheartened, so you peer over at him. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but you swore you could see a hint of disappointment. Maybe that was just you being needlessly anxious again about every seemingly negative reaction someone might be having towards you.

Your suspicion only grew as time went on. He joked around with you less. He seemed really tense. His sentences were shorter. He barely ever made eye contact with you.

This continued for two weeks. You weren't sure you could take this much longer. You were losing sleep. Did you weird him out that day? Or could he see right through you and felt uncomfortable with your obvious crush? Either way, it was stressing you out to a worrying degree. This had to end.

You texted him to meet you on the roof of your apartment complex. It was obscured from anyone below with a camera and crazy zoom, and it'd be obvious if anyone followed the two of you. It was time to finally find out what the hell was going on. You were still stressed out, but a part of you was foolishly excited.

You even had a sweet dream that he accepted your confession. High off the wonderful feeling that dream gave you, you were all smiles. Nervous smiles, but smiles nonetheless. You sit on the floor next to the door when your jittery nerves came to be too much. Your ears perk up when the door clicks open. You shoot up, smoothing your hands over your clothes. Behind the door is Soobin, brows knit together in clear stress.

"Hi, sorry if you were busy." You smile at him, movement a bit frantic as you bow.

"No it's fine, this will be quick." Soobin's expression is stern, yet he fails to meet your eyes.

Your heart drops, mouth hanging agape. You stand there wordlessly, your hands fidgeting with each other. It felt like a dark cloud loomed over you, suddenly blocking out the sun. You already knew what he meant by that, and what he was going to say. Should you run? No...

You smile bitterly. "Ah, I see. You don't have to say anything else. I understand."

When Soobin finally looks at you, a dim feeling of hope sparks up. You immediately extinguish the feeling.

"Listen," You clear your throat, pushing down the growing feeling of mortification and sadness, "You don't have to worry about me anymore, or I guess my feelings. I know that you still need my help with the new song. I can be professional about that. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable again, just let me know, okay?" You force a wider smile. A part of you hoped that he would accept the offer to still work with you in case he changed his mind.

"Oh! Um... okay. I'm not sure about working with you again just yet." Soobin trails off, pity evident in his voice.

Of course. He can see right through you, you idiot.

"You're right. It's selfish of me to even think that would be a possibility." You laugh awkwardly, shifting the weight from one leg to the other. "Don't worry about it. You know my number so you can call me if you need anything. You don't have to worry about me having ulterior motives."

--🖱️▷

You stare at the screen of your phone, the blue light illuminating your face in your otherwise dark room. You go through your photos and delete any pictures of or with Soobin. Just when you guys would've gotten close, you screwed things up with your stupid crush. Now on top of everything Soobin had to deal with, he has to worry about someone who has constant access to him making him uncomfortable. Mr. Park would most likely make the two of you work together again against his will. You should know how this feels, yet you behaved around him so recklessly.

The following morning your manager wakes you up earlier than normal.

"It's a Soobin day, let's go!"

You freeze, eyes wide in shock.

"Soo–? I thought I was off today." Your voice is gruff. You didn't need this stress so early in the morning.

"Mr. Park says that Soobin hasn't been making much progress with his song."

Yeah, you know. It's all your fault.

"He's gonna have the two of you work together more often."

You scratch at your head. This was gonna be difficult to explain, but you tried anyway.

"I'm sorry, my manager woke me up really early this morning, that was the first time I've heard of this."

"No, no! It's fine, I understand. I don't think you're up to something." Soobin waves his hands frantically in front of him, eyes wide.

"Okay, good." You wipe imaginary sweat from your forehead.

"Let's get started."

You and Soobin were back to normal... almost. You could tell he was still a bit wary. He kept side-eyeing you, and it was a lot more awkward. You couldn't blame him, you were thirty percent sure there were still buried feelings. They don't go away that easily. You sigh as the track plays which causes Soobin to quickly pause it.

"What? Is there something wrong??" Soobin was just as frantic as always. You chuckle. "No, all I did was sigh."

His anxious disposition fades as he begins to laugh. "Don't scare me like that."

You both laugh before fading back into that damn awkward state.

"Listen, thank you for being understanding. I know how hard it can be to like someone and be turned down." Soobin says, a hint of guilt in his voice. You look over at him in shock. "You experienced unrequited love? Who are they? Are they blind?"

Soobin looks away, clearly flustered again.

"Oh! Sorry. Too soon? I probably sound crazy." You look away, cheeks hot.

"Y-you don't. It's fine, don't worry about it." The tone of Soobin's voice sounds like he's disappointed. Again.

The atmosphere became ten times more awkward than it was before. You have to take it slow. You really value Soobin as a friend. You can fix this. Seeing Soobin more often was actually perfect for you. You couldn't avoid him forever, so might as well rip the bandaid off now. You look in your bathroom mirror, rinsing off your mask.

Looking into your own reflection, you repeat I like Soobin and that needs to change.

You plant your hands firmly on your sink, taking a deep breath. You close your eyes, reflecting on your situation. You have to sit in such close proximity to Soobin. Feeling his warmth. Smelling his scent. Seeing his smile, ugh those fucking dimples. You inhale shakily, clenching your eyes shut as you start to imagine Soobin closing in on you. Soaked in hues of red, green, and blue. His face so close that your noses touch.

You force your eyes open, slapping yourself across the face. This isn't going well. If you were a normal human being, you'd be able to just put yourself on the market, go on blind dates, and meet guys at bars. No, instead you had to practice 12 hours a day. Eat rabbit food. Endure this torture.

You ball your hands into fists and squeeze them tightly, nails embedded into your palm. For a moment you really considered quitting. Quitting everything. They're taking way too long to finally stick you into a group anyway. All while still capitalizing on your pre-existing fame.

You place your head into your hands, sighing heavily. You shouldn't quit. You've come this far, and your manager says that debut is very close.

That's what you have to focus on. Debuting. Yeah, your crush on Soobin could get him in big trouble, but what about you? Your dreams haven't even started, yet you were about to throw them away because of some boy? You look up from your hands and into the mirror.

"I'm ___." You repeat as you look into the mirror. "I'm ___!"

--🖱️▷

You confidently walk into Soobin's room. He looks up, face changing from shock to confusion.

"You look... comfy." Soobin remarks. You rest your hands on your hips, smiling goofily.

"I noticed that you're always dressed in comfy clothes so I decided 'what the heck'," You plop into the chair next to his, "and now that I've done so I understand why you do.".

He can't help but laugh at your strange confidence. "Did you eat some good food or something?" Soobin asks, opening his music editing software.

"No, I'm not you." You scoff, rolling closer to the computer. "Let's get this song finished!"

And finish you did, the song sounds better than you anticipated coming into this. It was all thanks to one method you stuck to. Whenever you felt your heart swelling, you thought about one of the things you disliked about him. You had a whole list full.

He was very soft, which is something you would also say is a pro. However, what if you come home after a shitty day and wanted to blow off some steam? You may not get much dick nowadays, but you still know what you need to get off. Missionary ain't cutting it. After thinking about his first con, they just came naturally. These were things you shoved into the back of your mind to prevent your pristine view of him from being sullied. Now, it's what you needed. Seeing him as the bossy mom friend who's a bit stuck up sometimes really helped.

A week was all Soobin needed to realize things were back to normal. Instead of the uncomfortable amount of compliments you threw at him, so eager to please, you were a lot blunter. Even a bit too blunt sometimes. Soobin wasn't complaining, it was what he was used to with his members.

Soobin was comfortable with you again and his members started to get closer to you as well.

"The song sounds amazing. Thank the lord, Soobin's rough draft was so horrible." Yeonjun tilted his chin into the air to prevent the food in his mouth from spilling while he spoke. Laughter erupts around you, even from Soobin who's scratching the back of his head.

"I didn't want to say anything... but yeah it was pretty bad." You nod, hissing at your own honesty.

"You didn't want to say anything because you had a crush on him." Beomgyu mutters, stirring his drink. The rest of the members point and laugh at you as you sit there, shocked. You had grown accustomed to the jokes, growing a thick skin after it wasn't as topical. To say it out loud would be a level of confrontation you weren't ready for, but you were pretty sure Beomgyu wasn't saying it in a joking manner. A part of you thought that he was actually putting you on the spot for some reason. But he was Beomgyu, he was a goofball. Plus, it's not like you still had a crush on Soobin.

"Beomgyu, I'm starting to feel like you don't like me or something." You laugh to offset any suspicions of an accusation, but you dart your eyes at him to watch his reaction. When you see his straight face staring back at you, your smile drops.

"What's up with this atmosphere?" Taehyun asks nervously.

"I just got chills..." Kai adds, cowering away from Beomgyu as if he was omitting cold air. Beomgyu ignores his members, taking a sip from his drink and keeping his eyes on you.

"I'm sorry about Beomgyu, I'm not sure what his problem is." Soobin sighs once you're back in his room. The two of you didn't even have a song to produce anymore, you were just enjoying each other's company.

"It's fine. Why are you even apologizing, you didn't do it." You snort as you nudge his arm. What you really wanted to say is that you understood Beomgyu's issue. If you said that out loud, you were scared that Soobin would think there was something to worry about, and there isn't. So you keep it to yourself and keep your distance from Beomgyu.

You did a pretty good job, only saying hi whenever you guys were in a room alone. Ignoring how he stared blankly at you and ignored your greeting. Laughed at his "jokes" that were just thinly veiled attacks on your character. Even though you remained friendly, you made sure not to stay in a room with him too long. Scurrying out before the members could leave you alone with him. You thought this would work in your favor, but it seemed like he was growing colder. His "jokes" no longer had a veil. He was just straight-up accosting you. 

"It must be nice cooped up in Soobin's room alone where no one can call you out on your shit." His words seeped into your veins and slowly poisoned you. All with a little smug smile on his face.

"Beomgyu! Cut it out!" Soobin stands up, fed up with his accusations. You raise your hands, signaling for Soobin to calm down and sit back in his chair. "It's fine-" You say quietly.

"No, it's not! If you've got something to say then say it." Soobin cuts his eyes at the younger male. Finally, the anger that Beomgyu was feeling the entire time was reflected on his face. His face twisted in resentment and a bit of pity. He scoffs.

"You're the second oldest, yet you're so naïve." 

Soobin grips the younger male by his shirt and you have to physically pry him off. "Soobin! Stop!"

"You should be saying this to him not me!" He looks at you in disbelief before turning his attention back to Beomgyu. "You think you know what you're talking about but you don't. Stay out of our business."

"Maybe you think I don't." Beomgyu keeps his eyes trained on Soobin as his finger points toward you. "But she does. Why else do you think she hasn't stuck up for herself." 

All of the members look at you with confusion in their eyes. You gulp, feeling like you were standing in a dark room with one lone spotlight beaming down on you. 

"I-I... I just... I don't want to cause any trouble-"

"Bullshit." He spat before leaving the room. He had a right to be worried about his friend, and that's why you didn't say anything. You didn't realize how guilty that made you look, though. The members keep their eyes on you, carefully watching as you fiddle with your fingers. 

"I'm sorry... I really was trying to prevent any conflict," You sigh, failing to properly explain yourself, "I just keep digging a deeper hole."

"No, I know you more than he does. I can say confidently that I know you're not scheming behind my back. He's just a stubborn little brat." Soobin huffs, still fuming from the exchange.

Without his members staring you down your brain was quieter. Able to focus on all your worries more vividly in turn. You squeeze your eyes shut. "I don't want to come in between you guys. Please talk to him once you both calm down."

"He's the one that needs to–"

"Please? He's just looking out for you because he cares about you." You press your lips into a thin line, hoping it’s not too late.

-🖱️▷

"We talked and he wants to speak to you alone." annoyance is evident in Soobin's features as he stares at his monitor. Clenching his jaw, but this time not in concentration.

"R-really? Why?"

"I don't know." He throws his arms in the air, dropping them back to the desk shortly after. "He just insisted on trusting him. I don't."

You hug your body with a troubled expression tugging at your features. It really sucked hearing that he doesn't trust Beomgyu. That he trusts you more. He's only known you for less than a year. He's known Beomgyu for at least four. They were pretty close before you came along, and the thought of you ruining their relationship made you feel horrible. All because of a stupid crush.

"I'll talk to him."

Soobin tries to talk you out of it, insisting that you did nothing wrong and that he needs to stop being an asshole. You try to look for another way to explain how you feel but come up short. You sigh, deciding to reveal your thoughts. "If hanging out with you guys is ruining your relationship, I’d rather stay away altogether."

Soobin’s annoyance at Beomgyu fades after your confession. His words escape his brain as quickly as they appear. He’s realizing now how horrible it must feel to come in between friends. 

“I want to fix this.” You add on, hoping he’ll come around. You chew on your lip, tightening your arms around your body as Soobin deliberates. He releases a hefty sigh.

"Okay. I understand." There’s a hint of stubbornness still lingering but he forces it to the wayside. You notice his inner turmoil and pat him on his back before standing up from your chair. He tells you that Beomgyu's in his room alone. You knock on the door and a tight voice beckons you in. When you slowly open it, you see Beomgyu at his computer. 

"Close the door behind you." he says, not looking your way. His brows are furrowed, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s aggravated or focused. You oblige, waiting for him to say something. He stands from his computer chair wordlessly and crosses his arms before you. 

"I think you should stop coming around here." the words leave his mouth like they were nothing. Your heart drops, but you really didn't want to argue.

"I don't agree, Beomgyu." Though you know leaving might be the only option if all else fails, you selfishly still want to be here. You enjoy their company.

"So you think you've done nothing wrong?" he derides and you groan. "I never said that. I did make Soobin uncomfortable in the past and I was wrong for doing so." You finally say the words out loud and even after all this time they weigh on you. You hope it’s enough but looking at the determination on his face, you know it’s not.

"So you understand that it's fucked up that we should even worry about this? You even have the other members worried now.” His words are harsh and he puts no effort into sugarcoating them with his tone or expression. His eyes beat down on you as he hurls the words at you. 

They give you pause, reconsidering your dynamic with the other until now. “They what? That can’t be right.” They seemed a little awkward yesterday after Beomgyu’s accusation, but it couldn’t be that serious. Your face pinches, trying to clear your thoughts but he keeps bombarding you with his onslaught of attacks.

“And what about you avoiding me? It’s obvious you’re hiding from the truth.” He crowds you until you’re backed against the wall. “N-no it’s because–”

“It’s obvious you’re guilty, but now there’s no running away. It’s time to tell the truth about your motives and leave us the fuck alone.” You flinch at his words, a glint of fire starting behind your eyes without your consent.

“I keep avoiding you because you’re a fucking asshole who’s constantly shitting on me.” You clench your eyes shut as you shoot the words at him. You really didn't want to feed into to this. You throw your fists against the wall behind you, heaving as more frustration fills you up before you can stop it. Beomgyu steps away to chuckle and you get a moment to breathe. But then he’s back to hovering over you with a glare as cold as ice. 

“I’m a what?”

All you can do is breathe him in and look at him, he’s giving you no other choice. When your eyes wander he just moves back into your line of vision. Is this how he intends to get his way? “You’re an asshole–”

“I’m an asshole for telling you how it is?” He steps closer until he’s completely immersed in your bubble. The look of confusion on his face illustrates just how stupid he thinks you sound. You try to speak again but he interrupts you for the umpteenth time. 

“Just leave. No one wants you here.”

“You don’t want me here! You can’t force me not to hang out with my friends.” You shoot back incredulously. 

“Oh, your friends, right? It’s not that you’re so lonely and desperate for a boyfriend that you’re following Soobin around? You look pathetic, and just know that when Soobin gets tired of you, none of us are gonna jump to take his place.” The feeling of his breath fanning over your face fans the flames of your rage. Never in your life had someone said something so disrespectful to your face and barely blink an eye.

“How dare you–”

“You’re not gonna find a boyfriend here.” He sneers, smirking down at you like you’re a joke.

“Stop fucking interrupting me!” You erupt, shoving against his chest. He barely moves and he’s still all you can smell and see and hear. You can’t get away from his relentless attacks. He’s telling you to leave and yet he won’t back up so that you can breathe. “Soobin finished the song and yet you’re here all the time, hoping he’ll let you hop on his dick–”

Seeing red, you cock back before striking him across the face. The impact is louder than you expect, your anger had gotten the best of you. In the dim lighting of his room, you can still tell that you left a red mark on his cheek. This was really bad, if they didn’t think you were guilty before, they did now. Even Soobin would have to see Beomgyu’s side now. Before you can apologize or even fully panic your body is being shoved into the wall. He holds your hands above your head as a vein in his jaw quirks.

Your anger is instantly back in place. “Let me go.” You warn with your voice low.

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” There he goes, crowding you even further until his forehead is touching yours. You didn’t think it was possible for you to get this angry. You still for a moment as you connect the dots. He’s goading you. It’s evident by the sly smile on his face. Now all his members will see you as unhinged and Soobin will be broken free from the spell Beomgyu’s convinced you have him under. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What have I ever done to you?” You rip your arms free only for him to grab your wrists again and hold them tighter this time.

“You’re just another one of those sneaky girls who try to weasel their way into our lives. You pretend to be all innocent, only wanting to be friends, and then you show your true colors. Just another desperate trainee. And you,” He gathers your wrists into one of his large hands before poking your forehead with his finger, “you keep sticking around like a parasite and actually managed to fool them. But I’m not stupid. I know a tacky groupie when I see one.”

You weren’t like that at all. You genuinely enjoyed their company and you weren’t even a fan beforehand. Even if you were, your feelings for Soobin were real. They weren’t built off of delusion, you fell for who he was as a person. Beomgyu has the power to paint you out as a crazed fan who managed to sneak past their defenses and the thought scared you. This wouldn’t just ruin your relationship with Soobin, if it gets back to your manager or any executives at the company you could get in serious trouble. You could possibly kiss debuting goodbye.

“You’re wrong and you’re too stubborn to see it. You refuse to listen to anyone, even your own leader!” You should probably lighten your tone but you were through trying to appeal to him. 

“I’m stubborn? Says the one who can’t take no for an answer.”

“I did take no for an answer! You weren’t even there so how would you know?!”

“Soobin told us about you continuing to try afterward, you know?” 

Your fire is snuffed out in a singular whoosh of air that whips through you. Your mouth drops open, but there are no rebuttals you have prepared to throw back at him. Imagining Soobin venting to his members about how annoying you are strikes a chord so sour you could cry. “Everyone knows how embarrassing you are.” He snickers and chips away at your dwindling composure. 

His face is so close, you can feel the skin on his nose and his forehead when he leans closer to tempt you over that edge. You can smell his lotion, his toothpaste, his makeup, his cologne. It’s just him everywhere and you want it to stop. Your brain is overloaded and you’re blinded by your rage. You want to do something to him, something to ruin his face and his skin, but the message gets screwed up somewhere amidst your heightened emotions. 

You crush your lips against his and he staggers backward only for a moment before freeing your hands and pushing you against the wall again. You suck harshly on his bottom lip and to make things more absurd, he lets you. Whether this was strengthening his case against you or not was entirely lost on you. You wanted to grab him, choke him, something. With a gasping breath you grip the nape of his hair and tug hard, sinking your teeth into his flesh. You pull back with hot tears dripping from your lashes as you glare up at his dark eyes. “I hate you.” You whisper shakily.

He heaves for a few seconds before initiating the kiss himself. His lips, his tongue, his teeth, you feel him everywhere just kissing and licking and biting you. It burns you so hot you think you’ll ignite. He draws your lip back with his teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood and a sharp shriek from you. You yank his head back by his hair and he grunts. 

“You fucking bitch.” He hisses, exposing his hatred for you clear as day. You slap him again which makes his eyes go wild before he’s grabbing you by your shirt. The sound of the fabric ripping is loud and you gasp. You can’t get a word in before he’s ripping the front of your bra in half and his brutish hands are fondling your breasts. His lips are softer when he catches yours this time but only because he’s focused on sinking his nails into your flesh. You moan into his mouth, ashamed of how much the pain he’s causing is turning you on. 

One hand grabs his face while the other grabs his neck. You drag your nails down his cheekbone and push your fingertips into each side of his neck. He inhales shallowly before restraining your arms again. With his grip on your wrists he yanks you closer. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d cut that out.” He growls, lip snarling and breath ragged. “You already put your hands on me three times and this time you left a mark. You’re not very bright, are you?” He asks as if he’s genuinely puzzled.

You poke your bottom lip out with your tongue. “You left a mark too, jackass. And how are you gonna explain my bra and shirt, huh? It’s my word against yours.” You breathe into a cocky laugh. 

“They won’t believe you. I told you, they’re getting suspicious of you.” He’s putting up a front but you can tell he’s not confident in that theory. You try and tug your wrists free. “Well then let me go and let’s find out.”

“You’re really willing to ruin your career before it even starts?” He’s getting progressively more anxious which makes you smirk. His hand shoots up before you can make a snide remark, wrapping around your throat. He squeezes hard immediately, his thumb digging uncomfortably into your muscles. Your mouth drops open as you squirm against the wall. Your free hands grip his shirt and perplexingly pull him closer. “Shut the fuck up.” He watches you intently as you gradually lose oxygen, waiting a little after you start to panic before letting you go. 

Your hands are instantly back in his hair and pulling him forward so your mouths crash together. Your noses bump and teeth clink but it only makes the both of you more riled up. You tug his head backward, not detaching from the kiss as you push him to his computer chair. He trips and falls into it and you fall on top of him. Your hips start rutting against him and he groans into the kiss. His fingers find your nipples again and he squeezes until pain shoots down your legs. He continues to pinch harder and harder until you’re making pained whimpers and more tears spring to your eyes. 

Irked, you grab his face and squish his cheeks, lifting from the kiss to lick up the blood on his cheeks. You grind down on him with a shuddering breath when he starts to twist your sore nipples. “I wanna make you bleed again.” You laugh, officially brought to hysterics by the man below you.

“Hit me or scratch me again and you’ll regret it.” His voice is deeper than before and you can feel him growing under you. Before you felt ashamed but now you can see the vision. You ride his cock, shove him so deep inside you that his mind goes blank. He cums but you don’t stop. You just keep milking him until his eyes roll back and the only noises he can make are strained groans. The idea translates to pleasure that has you shoving a hand down to unbutton his jeans.

“See?” He raises his hands in the air, watching you fish his cock from his pants. “I knew you were a desperate slut.” You grip his shaft and pull a salacious sound from his throat. He grabs you by the throat and pulls your ear by his mouth.

“All because you feel worthless without a celebrity to cling onto.” He whispers before licking your earlobe into his mouth and sinking his teeth into it. For a moment, your anger drains and his words dawn on you. You almost believe him. You huff a derisive laugh and you don’t even know if it’s at Beomgyu or yourself. Beomgyu is everything Soobin isn’t. It’s a con and disappointingly a pro. He’s impolite, impulsive, and hard-headed… but as you stare into his sharp glare you start to understand your eagerness to sit on his cock. Soobin was easy to swallow but Beomgyu’s intricate eyes spare you no pity or comfort. “I don’t care as long as I cum by the end of it.”

“You can insult me all you want,” You stand from the chair and shimmy your sweats and underwear off while still maintaining eye contact. “but I know who I am.” You climb back on his lap, positioning him at your entrance before grabbing his shoulders with a smirk. 

“Nice character development. Finally accepting you’re a groupie.”

You brush his jab off with a scoff. There’s no way either of you can make a case against the other without painting you both as insane. His crusade against you was paused at the moment. You have him right where you want him. “I’m not. I’m ___.” You smile. 

Beomgyu immediately laughs at your proclamation, shifting to a hiss when you sink down on him. He grabs hold of your hips to take control and increase the speed. “You’re fucking me while claiming to hate me. Something isn’t adding up.” He tries to bite back but the sound of your pussy sliding over his cock makes him mutter a swear.

“You may be a superstar out there, but in here? Right now? You’re just a tool for me to get off.”

He moves both hands back up to your throat, giving you back the reigns as you laugh triumphantly. “That’s right. I like it when you’re rough with me.” You squeeze out before swirling your hips in circles. His resolve crumbles more and more as you ride him and it’s a delight to watch. He chokes you harder, familiarly squeezing until your vision spots out before releasing and letting you gasp and sputter. “You like that?”

“Uh huh.” You fake a whimper, making a show of how your hips swing. Knowing exactly how to rile him up, you slap him again. Seeing the anger flare up you get a rush, reveling in the slap he delivers back. “The fuck did I tell you?”

You spit on his face and he snatches your hips up again. He starts slamming his cock into you with a vice grip on you, digging his fingertips deep into the flesh of your ass. You yelp involuntarily before covering your mouth.

“What? Worried they’ll hear you and confirm what you were after all along?” He spreads your cheeks wide, peeking over your shoulder to watch how your asshole flutters. Even if you cover up your moans, there’s no way they don’t hear his balls smacking against your ass from in the hallway. You think– hope you’re hallucinating when you hear the door click open.

“Okay guys, what is–” Soobin’s voice cuts off with a surprised noise. You turn your head as far as you can and catch him covering your bottom halves with his hand. “I guess this means you guys made up now?” He asks, stress laced into his words for an entirely different reason. 

Neither of you answer, you just gawk at Soobin until he rolls his eyes and closes the door. You stay stuck there for a moment until it occurs to you. A wide smile stretches across your face as you turn to face Beomgyu again. He shoots you an annoyed look. “What?”

“You can’t sabotage me anymore. Who’s gonna take you seriously now?” 

“If anything you’re proving my point. In their eyes you just managed to seduce me instead of Soobin.”

“Is that what happened?” You grab his face and smush it with a mocking coo. “I seduced the big bad wolf?” He shakes his face free from your grip and squeezes your ass again. “I guess we’ll see, huh, Beommie?”

You moan out when he slams you down to meet his thrusts. “Trying to shut me up?” Your eyes threaten to roll back feeling his cock in your stomach. You curse under your breath, trying to steady yourself on his shoulders. “It won’t work.”

You throw challenge after challenge hoping he’d get as brutish as you want him to. He hisses at you to shut up but you just talk over him until his lip snarls and he’s yanking you by your hair over to the bed. He tosses you against the side of it before lifting you by your torso and shoving you face down into the mattress. “I told you to shut up.” He growls.

“Fuck me Beommie.” You peer to the side to purr but he shoves your face back into his covers. He realigns himself before restraining your wrists behind your back with one hand. The messy position has one of your legs dangling off the bed but Beomgyu doesn’t fix it, he just slams into you. He shoves you further into the mattress, making sure to keep his hand on the back of your head to keep you quiet. You curl your toes as his dick shoots deep inside you in a relentless pursuit to pound your cervix. Your oxygen starts to run dry again and your eyes fully roll back as you thrash against him. Just a second longer feels like an eternity as you panic for air but he eventually pulls you back up.

“You fucking dick.” You breathe after a harsh fit of coughs.

“Still got shit to say?” He shoves your head back down and slows his hips. Each slam makes your legs twitch until your entire body is trembling like a cold puppy. His cock fucking you full so many times has you overstimulated before even cumming. But it crashes down upon you once your oxygen runs just about dry. You jolt violently with an intense climax and as a warning that he needs to pull you up. He does so, holding you up by your hair as you tremble and clench around his cock. “That’s right, just stay quiet and cum on my dick.”

With all the strength you can muster after your high, you break free from his grip and flip around. He struggles to restrain you and your struggle back until he’s pushing your legs by your head and you reach to grab him and catch his shirt. You yank him closer and capture his lips in a messy kiss. You catch his lip this time and bite down on it as he sinks back into you. You let go and let him drive his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues wrestle, sharing your wanton moans as his cock melts into your hot, wet hole. 

You can tell it’s getting to him when his moans get needier. You slip your legs under his arms and wrap them around his hips. You push him further into you, watching his face clench as he’s fully submerged in you. You press your core flush against him and grind your hips into him. You’re dripping so much it’s leaking onto his bed and he can feel it on the tops of his thighs. With one stuttering ‘fuck’ you know he’s gone so you suck on his tongue until his hips are smacking harshly into yours. Each trembling jerk of his hips shoots another ribbon of semen onto your walls. He tries to draw back but you’re holding him still with your legs.

“P-please–”

“Does it hurt, Beommie?” You moan, grinding your hips again. His face clenches tighter as unrestrained moans pour from his ruined lips. You wish to ruin them more but he looks so sexy when he’s in pain. You give him the same languid swing of your hips as you did riding him and watch the sweat roll down his forehead. “I can’t, I can’t–”

With a loud grunt he slams into you again, burying his head in your shoulder. The high of your perceived win over Beomgyu drives you to your actual high as you cum around him again. You keep your shaky legs locked around him until an urgent wail fills your ears and your pussy is being filled again. "Please! Please!" You intend on keeping him locked in longer but he pries your legs off him.

You waste no time pushing him off of you and peeling off your tattered shirt and bra. You use the fabric of your t-shirt to wipe off your legs and your mound. Beomgyu comes up behind you to yank the shirt from your hands, glaring at you as he does so. He cleans up his member and thighs before tossing the shirt.

“Get out.”

“My pleasure. Are we still telling them our sides or…”

“Just get out. You better not still be here when I get out of the shower.” He ties a towel around his hips and bumps your shoulder as he walks past. You steal a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for now, planning to return it as soon as possible because the thought of having his clothes in your wardrobe made you physically ill.

As it stands, he still tried to sabotage you and Soobin’s friendship and possibly your career, but it seems he admitted defeat. You glance at his mirror on your way out. Just as you thought, you know exactly who you are.

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