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mapis-putellas · 17 days

Text

Three’s a crowd

Pairing: Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x reader

Words: 3389

Warnings: swearing

Summary: You accidentally tell Ona about your relationship with Ingrid and Mapi despite promising them you’d keep it to yourself. Their reaction is nothing like you expect.

Notes: I’m sorry I’m advance for the terrible Spanish. Also, this may not flow smoothly and I apologise for that. I tried my best!

"I mean, I'd make out with them but like -platonically, you know?"

"You can't make out with someone platonically, idiota."

"Of course you can! We've done it like, so many times before already. I mean, maybe it was platonic at first, anyway. But it's definitely not now." You wave your hand dismissively. It takes promptly three seconds before you freeze in the midst of shoving your belongings into your back at the words that had just escaped your mouth without meaning to. Eyes widening, you turn to face Ona who was staring at you with a look of pure shock on her face. Her mouth was agape, hands frozen mid air in the midst of pulling off her jersey.

"qué?" Her eyebrow raise.

You panic. "Uhh, nothing. I said nothing," you scramble to collect the rest of your things, hoisting your kitbag onto your shoulder before slowly backing away from her. "You're just hearing things, Ona. I didn't say anything."

You see, this...relationship, or whatever was going on between Mapi, Ingrid and yourself was new. So new, in fact, it didn't quite have a label. In the privacy of their home, you were like any typical throuple. You kissed. Cuddled. Held hands. They'd dote over you and you craved their attention and affection. In public, however, they tended to stay away from you. Not in a mean way. A least, you didn't think so anyway. Sure they'd speak to you. Pull you into he occasional side hug if you did particularly well in training. Soft, subtle smiles would be shared between the three of you.

But that was it, and that was okay. It was just easier that way anyway. Nobody questioned you; talked you into thinking that maybe joining their relationship wasn't the best idea. You were already going a good enough job of that yourself, after all, and the rumours and speculations that would surely appear if started being affectionate in public certainly wouldn’t help.

It wasn't like you didn't want to be with them, because you very much did. It was just...they were perfect together. Had been together for years before bringing you into the mix. What did you bring into this...relationship that they didn't already have?

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps that train of thought wasn't fair, you thought. It had only been a month, after all. A month was nothing. It was why you'd chosen to remain silent. That way, you wouldn't cause any issues.

"ey ey ey, no," her hand grabs your arm, preventing you from making your escape. "You are not going anywhere chica. Sentarse." She all but demands, pointing your cubby.

"No, Ona," you futility attempt to free your arm. Ingrid was going to kill you. Literally murder you before bringing you back to clean up the mess. Both she and Mapi had asked you to keep this to yourself, and you'd broken their trust before talking without thinking. You and your stupid big mouth.

"Really. I have to go. I said I would-"

Ona shakes her head, effectively cutting you off mid sentence. "Sentarse." She says again, sounding less amused than she had before. It has you shrinking in place, but yet, your stubbornness has you once again shaking your head.

"No. I'm not a dog." The door was just there. Your eyes desperately flicker around the room in hopes of finding something that would distract the defender so you make a break for it.

"Y/n, I swear-"

"What is going on?" A new voice fills the room, and both your heads turn at the sound. At the sight of Mapi standing before you, tanned, tattooed arms crossed against her chest, your eyes wide almost comically. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. You were dead. You were so dead.

Mapi's eyes flicker from Ona's face to her grasp around your arm, prompting the defender for sigh heavily before dropping it. She turns and sits, bending down to begin removing her boots. The knowing smirk on her face was hidden. She knew it.

"Qué está pasando?" Mapi asks again, dropping her arms and making her over to you. You instinctively take a small step closer to her, staring at Ona with pleading eyes when she looks up and makes eye contact. She stares right back at you for a few moments before sighing lightly and shaking her head, rising to her feet and tugging off her jersey.

"Nada," she finally speaks, and you let out a subconscious breath of relief as feel your heart beginning to settle in your chest. Crises averted. For now, anyway.

Mapi eyes Ona for a second before nodding and turning to face you. You don't seem to realise the look of concern still etched on your face, but the Spaniard decides that for now, she'd drop the subject in an effort to prevent furthering your impending panic.

"Are you ready to go?" She asks instead, and you nod, allowing her to place a steady hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the locker room. You glance back at Ona who just so happened to be staring right back at you. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly to the side in question, and you nod, the defender mimicking it before focusing her attention back to her kitbag.

"Ingrid is in the car already." Mapi tells you in her heavily accented English as you make your way outside, her hand absentmindedly trailing up and down your back in a subconscious action of comfort.

You hum does little to comfort her.

"What happened, amor?" She gently pulls you to a stop, her hand on your hip gently coaxing you to face her. You comply, albeit a little hesitantly, eyes focusing on the tattoo on her neck. Looks can be deceiving. They could be indeed. A small part of you admittedly wants to tell her, but you figure doing so and spilling your guts and in the middle of a car park with all your teammates surrounding you wouldn't be the best idea.

"Later?" You plead instead, and though the Spaniard hesitates, she nods her head and once again starts guiding you back to her car with her hand on the small of your back. The remainder of the walk was completed in silence, Mapi opening the trunk of her car allowing you to dump your kitbag in the there along with Ingrid's and her own before opening the back passenger door.

You slip inside with a tight smile and without your usual kiss to her cheek in thanks, and the defender finds herself frowning as she closes the door and makes her way round to the drivers side, completely missing your less than enthusiastic greeting to Ingrid. You settle in the back with your headphones in, perhaps a not so mature response, but one you deemed necessary to get your thoughts together before the inevitable conversation ahead.

"Is she okay?" The Norwegian questions, glancing back a you in concern. She doesn't normally like talking about you with you in such close proximity, but she figures due to the loud music currently emanating from your headphones that you wouldn't be able to hear them. Besides, she was only doing so out of concern.

Mapi shrugs, "no sé. Ona said something, I think. Said something she did not mean to, maybe?" Her eyes follow Ingrid's for a second before she starts the car, pulling out of her parking space with relative ease. The plan had been for you to stay with them tonight, so she purposely misses the turn to your apartment and continues straight to theirs.

"Ona said something to her?" Ingrid frowns.

"Sí. She look like, how you say..." Mapi tightens her hands around the steering wheel, "como un ciervo atrapado en los faros?"

"A dear caught in headlights?" Ingrid responds, and Mapi nods.

"Sí." The Spaniard confirms.

Ingrid reaches out and places a steady hand on the defenders thigh, giving the bare, tanned skin a soft squeeze. "Did you ask?"

Mapi nods as she eases the car to a stop at a red light. "Talk later, she said. So obstinada." She grumbles.

Ingrid couldn't help but smile, "Like you, you mean?" She teases, earning herself a playful punch to the arm.

"She is worse." The Spaniard grumbles, and Ingrid laughs softly.

With a quiet sigh, you place your AirPod back into your ear. You were stubborn, she was right. But it wasn't like you weren't willing to talk about it. You just didn't want to do so where there was a risk somebody would hear.

The looming conversation ahead seemed way more daunting now.

"Go shower, bebé," Mapi finally breaks the silence as Ingrid closes the front door and locks it behind her, and you nod mutely as you kick of your shoes and make your way down the hall to their bathroom. Their bathroom. Ingrid and Mapi's. Not yours. That thought alone makes your eyes burn with tears.

Pathetic.

You miss the look of concern shared between both women share as you close the bathroom door behind you.

"I need to text Ona." Mapi murmurs as she pulls out her phone, a gentle hand resting atop of her own stopping her in her tracks.

"Qué?"

Ingrid shakes her head, "I know it's hard, but you need to let her come to us. It's obvious that she doesn't want us to know what happened with her and Ona, and we need to respect that. Forcing her to talk will only end badly."

Mapi sighs, knowing her girlfriend was right. Still, she couldn't help but push.

"But, what if-”

"No, kjære," Ingrid takes both Mapi's hand in her own and squeezes. "Let her come to us."

"Sí, mi amor."

Both knew the topic of conversation between you and Ona had evidently been about them. If not, you would have come to them. Just like you had when Lucy had said something to upset you. It wasn't like you to push them away. Mapi knew that. She also knew Ingrid was right about letting you come to them, despite her reluctance to do everything possible to figure out what was going on.

"Okay. Go find us a movie to watch. I'll make a start on diner." Ingrid places a soft kiss against the Spaniards cheek before disappearing through to the kitchen. Mapi watches her go before letting out a quiet sigh and curling up on the corner of the couch, picking up the remote to turn on the tv.

You finish with your shower long before Ingrid finishes with dinner, and you appear in the threshold of the living room clad in both their clothes. Ingrid's sweater, and Mapi's sweatpants, your hair wet and hanging down by your face.

Mapi gestures you over with one of those smiles that makes you melt, "Let me do your hair, amor. Sit." She opens her legs and pats the spot in between them. Your reluctance was evident as you comply, placing your hands on either of the Spaniards thighs as you settle and allow her to start combing through your hair.

"Dinner smells good." You finally find it within you to talk as you feel Mapi's fingers beginning to part your hair with the intention of braiding it. You didn't like leaving your hair down to sleep, and you found it endearing that Mapi had somehow remembered that fact despite it being weeks since you’d told her.

"Mhh," Mapi hums, "huele deliciosa." She agrees.

After tying off your hair with a hair tie, Mapi's tattooed arms loop around your waist, her hands clasped together against your stomach. You expect her to talk. To push you into opening up about what had happened earlier. But she surprisingly does neither. She simply rests her chin against your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek before once again picking up the remote.

"You pick." She mumbles into your ear, and you nod, eyes skimming over the screen.

Ingrid makes her way into the room just as you'd decided on the lion king, carrying a plate in either hand. She hands one off to both you and Mapi before once again disappearing and returning with her own.

It was pasta. Your favourite.

"Gracias." Mapi grins, settling back against the couch with you still between her legs and shoving a large forkful of food into her mouth.

Ingrid stares at you with a smile, one you couldn't help but mimic as you both watch the Spaniard stuff her face. Knowing you were in the way, you shift yourself over Mapi's leg and settle on the couch between them instead.

You ignore Mapi's playful pout at the action.

"Thank you." You whisper, and Ingrid smiles again as she gives your thigh a squeeze.

"You're welcome, elskling."

It didn't take long before dinner was quickly demolished, three empty plates sat on the coffee table as the three of you lay comfortably on the couch. You were in between Ingrid's legs now, your back to her chest with one of her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Mapi was curled up next you both, her head on Ingrid's shoulder as the Norwegian combs her fingers through her hair.

The defenders arm was thrown lazily over your stomach, tattooed hand resting on the gentle curve of your waist. Your own hand settles on top of her arm, the pad of your thumb trailing over warm skin.

The silence between you was comfortable. You were comfortable. So much so you almost want to bring up the elephant in the room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

You sit up suddenly, yanking yourself out of both woman's grip. Mapi whines unhappily, but Ingrid nudges her softly as she shakes her head and sits up too.

Understanding, Mapi sighs lightly and forces herself to sit in front of you, her rear end perched on the edge of the coffee table. She tries to take your hands, but frowns when you gently push them away.

"I told Ona." You blurt out.

Ingrid's eyes widen, but you didn't need to see it to know she was disappointed. You could tell by the way an alarmed Mapi meets her gaze over your shoulder. You desperately try and fix your mistake.

"Well, I didn't tell her. We were talking, and it just slipped out. I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It was just a joke. I mean, it wasn't a joke. I was just trying to tell her a joke. That's when it happened. Please don't be mad. Or well, you can be mad. I betrayed your trust. But please don't be mad. It was an accident, I swear." You weren't aware that you had started crying until you feel Mapi's hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

Her hands were warm, and you relish in the feeling as you force yourself to take a few breaths. Ingrid's arms, you now notice, were tight around you too, her hands beneath your shirt resting on the bare skin of your stomach. You inhale and exhale, feeling her hands move with you.

"It is okay," Mapi was the first to speak, scooting a little closer and moving her hands to rest on either of your thighs. You desperately cling to to them with your own. "I am not mad. And Ingrid is not too, right?"

"Right." The Norwegian murmurs in your ear, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Her hair tickles your cheek.

"But I told..." You whisper, your voice breaking slightly, leaning back into Ingrid as much as your body would allow.

"Sí. You did," Mapi agrees. "But it was an accident, no? You did not mean to."

"Mapi's right, elskling."

"I always am." Mapi smirks, and you couldn't help but laugh when Ingrid playfully kicks her with her foot.

"She is right,” Ingrid repeats. “We are not mad at you. Being mad at you for something you didn't mean to do would be stupid. And besides, it's about time we start letting people know, mhhh?"

You blink, craning your head to the side so you were more or less looking Ingrid in the eye. She stares down at you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. It scrunches up at the action, and both she and Mapi share a look when you flush and bashfully stare down at your lap. When Mapi reaches out to take your hands again, this time you let her.

"You want to tell people? About us?" You murmur.

This was not how you thought this conversation would go.

"Mhh," Ingrid nods. "Sí." Mapi agrees.

"But, what if..." you trail off.

"What if what, amor? Talk to us, por favor." Mapi coaxes, squeezing your hands again. You look up at her, and she smiles oh so gently at you it has your mouth opening before you could give it permission to do so.

"People will talk. About us. And that won't bother me, not really. But I don't want you guys to change your mind. You were perfect before, and I don't exactly bring anything to the table." You admit.

"Baby, no. Do not think like that. This is new, yes, but that does not mean we have any doubts," Ingrid starts, her frown identical to Mapi's whose eyes have grown shiny at your words. "I can almost guarantee people will talk. That's just what they do when they see something that they're not used to. But that doesn't mean their opinions matter."

You nod, feeling something inside you slotting into place.

"My opinion, yours, Ingrid's are what matter amor. If we are happy, then that is all that matters, sí?"

"Sí." You nod.

"You are happy?" Mapi pushes, and you nod with a genuine smile. "Bueno. Now stand, por favor." She holds her hands out for you to take, and you place your own into them allowing her to easily pull you to your feet. With a kiss to your forehead, she takes your place in between Ingrid's legs and tugs on the material of your sweater to pull you closer.

You yet again comply, ending up sat on her lap with your legs either side of her hips atop of Ingrid's thighs. Mapi's arms loop tightly around your waist, holding you tightly to them both, and you melt in their embrace as you rest your head against her shoulder.

Ingrid's face was just millimetres away from your own, and you smile when you feel her lips press softly against the top of your head.

"Something to the table. What does that mean?" Mapi settles back into Ingrid when she feels the Norwegian secure her arms around both herself and you.

Your eyes rip open. Damn. You hoped they wouldn't bring this part up. When Ingrid remains silent, it becomes clear she expects you to answer Mapi's question. So with a sigh, you do.

"It's an idiom. It means to do something that will benefit others." You mumble, less than happy.

Mapi's eyebrows furrow.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She places her hands on each of your sides and gently tugs your upper body away from her. You let her, but not without a pout and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Bebé, look at me por favor."

You shake your head.

"Elskling." Ingrid's warning voice echos around the room along with her fingers tapping gently under your chin, and you sigh heavily as you comply with the Spaniards words. Mapi's eyes immediately meet your own, but they didn't hold the stern look Ingrid's did.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She asks again, and you hesitate to shake your head.

"Por qué?"

"I don't know. I just...your relationship was perfect before me." You fumble with the chain hanging from Mapi's neck.

"No relationship is perfect, my love." Ingrid cuts in, Mapi nodding in agreement. "We love each other, yes. But all couples have their issues. Including us."

"If anything, being with you only makes us stronger. Because now there's three of us, instead of two. Meaning there is lots more love and time to go around." Ingrid hand grips your thigh and squeezes. You rest your own on top of it, gripping her fingers and squeezing hard.

Mapi nuzzles her nose with your own for a second before dropping her head back onto Ingrid's shoulder. "You make us better, sí?" She reaches up and cups your cheek, her thumb grazing gently over the still damp skin.

Your lips quirk up into a hesitant smile.

"There's that smile." Ingrid coos, and you flush slightly as you fall forward into their arms, hiding your face into the Spaniards neck. Mapi grins as she cups the back of your head, and Ingrid mimics is as she presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Our girl."

@ktgoodmorning @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @alexias-putellas @mapis-russo @wileys-russo

#mapi leon x ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #mapi león #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #@lots of pockets > @mapis putellas

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rachalixie · 1 year

Text

forgive me for what i haven't done

summary: you arrive at your enemy's kingdom under the guise of making peace. the prince being nice to you wasn't part of the plan.

genre: strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort

warnings: she/her reader, reader's father is emotionally manipulative and physically harms her, mentions of violence

word count: 17.5k

a/n: absolute massive thank you to @sulfurcosmos, @isilentprincess, and @woahfruity for reading this through and giving me your honest feedback. i truly appreciate you <3 this fic has sent me through the five stages of grief.

you can’t ignore the bruising grip your father has on your arm as he walks you to the steps of the large palace. the journey here was a mere two hours, but it feels like this palace was built out of another world altogether. it’s shorter than your own, absent are the dull reaching peaks and towers of your home, traded for warm bricks covered in snaking ivy and the shining sun peeking through powdery clouds. where it lacks in height, it makes up for in its expanse. the building was wider than any you’ve ever seen.

it was more beautiful than any building you’ve ever seen, too.

you hope your nerves don’t show as you throw one last glance back at the carriage you arrived in; it would soon take away your handmaidens that had made the journey with you, and you wouldn’t see them again until you went home. it makes your heart ache that the only people you felt comfortable with were leaving you behind. you try and focus on the present instead, knowing that wallowing in self-pity would get you nowhere. you had hours of meeting strangers ahead of you, making polite small talk with them and learning whatever information you could about the royal family until you could go to bed and be upset in private. you weren’t here for pleasure anyways, your father had reminded you as the carriage had pulled in. you were here for a reason.

the first person you make eyes with is the king, a kind looking man, hair and beard speckled with gray and a soft smile on his face as he takes in his visitors. he had invited you and your father here, a gesture of goodwill, an unspoken plea for peace between your two kingdoms.

“they want peace,” your father had scoffed, throwing the letter from the neighboring king to his desk. you watched as it slid off and fluttered to the floor. “the scum that killed your grandfather want peace, and they dare ask me to negotiate a treaty with them.”

“well,” you started, swallowing down your nerves like you did every time you spoke to your father. since your mother passed, all those years ago, you had taken over the role of his confidant, like he did with her. though, he never listened to your advice when you gave it; you were simply a body for him to talk at, to pour out his grief and frustration out on. “did the king not overthrow his own father? he is not the man that hurt our family, and i assume neither are his sons. can we not let the past stay in the past?”

the two kingdoms are small - a unity between you would open opportunities for new trading, allies in battle, new paths to resources that your people don’t see.

“their bloodline is rotten,” he says, definitive. “i would be doing the world a service by ridding it of their pitiful existence.”

his words of extremity did not surprise you; he spoke of all of the neighboring kingdoms in this way. he was not one for alliances, keeping the borders of his territory locked to outsiders, deeming them not fit to enter his kingdom. you can barely remember a time when foreigners or immigrants inhabited the now barren lands.

“and the people in their kingdom?” you question. “they are truly innocent. will they be given refuge here once their kingdom has fallen?”

“i do not care!” he spits out at you, eyes burning in anger, and you shrink back a little. “they will burn along with their miserable rulers. i will find a way to take them down, all of them, to make them pay for what they did to my family. and you, gods help me, will do as i say.”

and you would. in truth, you had barely even considered going against him. you were alone, you had no options other than following through with his wishes, no escape from him and his cruelty. you had nowhere to go that he would not find you. and yet, he remained vexed as he moved closer to you, speaking quietly in a manner that was more terrifying than if he was yelling at you. his fingers curl around your upper arm, like a warning-

“welcome,” the king’s voice breaks you out of your memory, and you muster up a smile for him. “thank you for making the journey here. and please, call me stephen. you are esteemed guests here, no need for formalities.”

your father doesn’t offer the same notion back, nodding coldly at your side. king stephen furrows his brow for a moment, and it’s clear on his face that he’s caught off guard. so expressive for a royal, you muse as he shakes his head and the smile returns to his face.

“my sons,” stephen gestures to the boys standing by his side, the ones you had yet to lay your eyes on. “crowned prince christopher, his betrothed, the lady roseanne, and our youngest, felix.”

betrothed? you did not know the older son was engaged. this complicates things. you can feel the anger coming off in waves from your father, and you place your hand on his forearm for a moment. not now, please, you mentally beg, and you almost sigh in relief when the tension leaves his body, turning your attention to the two royals in front of you.

the taller of the two dons a mop of curly hair under his circlet, cleanly pressed clothes shining with the royal blue of their family. a striking woman is at his side, an arm loosely curled around his. as he moves forward to greet your father, linking arms like the king had, your attention is drawn to the boy left standing alone.

the shorter boy is what you can only describe as ethereal. his features are sharp in all the right places, smoothed out by soft planes and dips covered in starlight scattered freckles. his clothes are similar to that of his brother’s, but no crown adorns his head.

he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. it makes your knees weak.

“i am felix,” he says, his voice deeper than you would expect from the gentle features of his face. he dips his head a bit, a sign of respect, as he takes your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it. your voice is steady when you respond with your own name, and you’re glad for it.

his attention is diverted when your father’s hand lands on your shoulder, his touch more gentle than it ever is whilst away from prying eyes.

“my daughter, princess y/n,” he announces, a proud smug on his face when you shyly curtsey. he must think your timidness is a ploy to get their trust, and not as a result of the raging nervousness boiling under your skin.

“it’s an honor to meet you, your highnesses,” you meet each of their eyes, looking for any sign of malice, but you find none.

“come inside, please,” the king beckons, and the circle of knights that had been flanking him move aside gracefully to make way to the tall archway leading inside the palace. you’re once again taken away by the beautiful architecture inside, melting candles lining the walls made of warm brick. “we will begin the peace talks tomorrow, spend the day settling from your journey.”

“we will go freshen up,” your father states, cutting your exploration short with a poorly concealed fake smile donning his face. you hope no one else can see through him the way you can. “and we will meet you for dinner?”

he doesn’t wait until the king answers before he pulls you off to a hallway, beckoning over a servant and barking at him to show you both to your chambers. you pray to the gods that your hosts see your father’s unorthodox behavior as a difference in customs, rather than rudeness. the servant looks flustered, eyes wide as he directs you to your adjoined chambers, and you almost feel bad for him. you’re sure he can tell when your father’s anger returns, getting stronger the further you walk from the royal family, and you keep your head bowed until the two of you are behind closed doors.

he lets go of your arm harshly, almost throwing you off of him in his haste and if you weren’t so afraid you would remind him that he probably shouldn’t yell as you’re sure he was about to do.

“he is engaged?” he growls out, teeth gritted together in fury. “this was not in the intel that i was given. this does not fit into our plan!”

his plan was for you to woo the prince, get him to fall in love with you, and then to kill his father and take the throne. nevermind the extensive gaps that he didn’t care to think out, that you weren’t brave enough to tell him about. the thought of the prince not going along with the neighboring king taking over his kingdom never crossed his mind; it was either extreme hubris or immense stupidity on his part. perhaps it was both.

“will i have to marry him? the prince?” you asked, avoiding his eyes. you kept your voice as leveled as you could, but you couldn’t completely mask the apprehension you were feeling.

“you will do whatever is necessary to gain his trust. if the boy proposes, you will accept.” he said, clinical and cold like he wasn’t gambling with your life. if your father was correct, these men were murderers, men who killed others in cold blood. what would the prince do if he discovered your father’s plan? how long was he expecting you to keep up this charade?

“control yourself,” he says when he takes in the tears pricking at your eyes, the wobbling of your lips as the gravity of his words sink in. “those of our class do not weep so easily.”

“what do we do now?” you ask, regretting it almost immediately when his anger turns towards you. you had wished, foolishly so, that he may forget this revenge-fueled nonsense and let you go home.

“i do not know, stupid girl. why do you not think of something instead of having me do everything for you?” you pray that no servants were listening in through the door, and no knights were making their patrol past the hallway. with how loud he’s speaking, there would be no hiding his ill intentions. “i thank the gods you were born a woman and i can marry you off. with how useless you are, there would be no helping my kingdom with you as a ruler.”

the words sting, your heart aches at the cold insult he’s thrown at you, but it’s not the first time he’s said something like this. it’s at the tip of your tongue to tell him that this wasn’t even your plan, that you didn’t want to betray this kingdom in the first place, that you’re tired of being his pawn in a game only he wants to play. you want to tell him that you would be a better ruler than he is if given the chance, that you almost hope for the day that he keels over and dies because you would be free of him. but you’ve learned to hold your tongue in times like this, knowing that he only says these things out of frustration; flashes of the kind man he used to be when you were younger play through your mind, calming you down as you scramble for some kind of answer.

“i will go after the younger one,” you start, a half-baked plan forming in your head. “if king stephen and christopher are out of the way, he is next in line for the throne, is he not? we just have a couple more people to get out of the way. befriend the king, distract him and make him trust you. i will handle the prince.”

you disappointed yourself by expecting some kind of verbal affirmation, some kind of praise for doing something right, but all you get from your father is a curt nod and a gesture to leave his chambers.

a nod was better than nothing. a nod was silent assurance that you were doing something right, that he was wrong about you. that you could think for yourself.

when you enter the hallway, you catch a glimpse of the servant from earlier peeking around the corridor. you smile at him, hoping that he had heard nothing and that your face didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions clouding around in your head. he simply smiles back, foxy eyes crinkling and he nods at you before disappearing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

dinner was an incredibly awkward affair; all throughout the meal, you couldn’t avoid meeting eyes with felix from where he was sitting across from you, and you flushed and looked away every time. his eyes were striking, soft browns highlighted with specks of gold reflected from the candlelight. this was the boy you were supposed to woo and manipulate, and you couldn’t even meet his eyes. gods help you.

you weren’t sure if your hosts could sense the concealed hostility in your father’s voice, but you could. he was doing a poor job of hiding his apathy, answering king stephen’s questions with short words or grunts. he eyed his food with judgment and took hesitant bites, even though you thought it was exceptionally made.

even the banquet hall itself was remarkable, banners of blue and gold hanging from the tall ceilings and plants of various kinds lining the walls. light shone down from the high windows, bathing the royals in front of you in a golden light.

“is the food not to your liking?” king stephen asked, a small frown gracing his features when he saw your father’s mostly full plate.

“this is amazing, like nothing i have ever tasted before,” you voiced, directing the attention to yourself. your own plate was nearly scraped clean, and you might have licked it to savor the flavors if you didn’t have your royal dignity to uphold.

your heart pounded in your chest from addressing the king so directly.

“good, i am glad,” stephen smiled warmly at you, quelling your nerves, and his smile reached his eyes in a way your father’s hadn’t for years. “i shall make sure to send your compliments to our main cook, he was worried that the meal would not suit our guests’ tastes.”

“minho worries too much,” christopher laughs, meeting eyes with his fiancée. the way he looks at her sends warmth up your spine, like you’re witnessing kindling sparkling into a burning flame. “his cooking is the best in the entire kingdom.”

it might have turned you off that he was boasting like that if it wasn’t about someone whose status was below his. a crowned prince, giving compliments like that to a palace worker? kitchen staff, at that? it was different, for sure.

the thought stuck with you for the rest of the night, even as your head hit your pillow at night. though you weren’t so naive to think that first impressions were indicative of their entire nature, it seems that the image of this royal family that your father painted for you might have been more skewed than you initially thought.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

while your father spent the next day with king stephen and their advisors, beginning the process of drafting and scrapping and rewriting peace treaties that you knew would never come to fruition, you were left to your own devices. venturing out of your chambers where you were bound to run into strangers was unsettling, but you pushed the feeling aside as you got dressed.

your father no doubt assumed you were jumping right into spending time gaining felix’ trust, but you didn’t know how to approach the younger prince to fulfill your part of the deal. you didn’t even know how to find him, or who to ask for his whereabouts; the sheltered walls of your home did not provide many opportunities for you to practice talking to people.

the people here did not seem to have the same problem. wherever you turned, visiting nobles and palace staff sent you smiles, casual how are you’s and i hope you slept well’s handed out to you like spare change. it made your head spin, and the desire to retreat back into your chambers was strong.

you found your way outside instead, through an archway made of brown stone. the fresh air often helped you think.

your casual walk allowed you to take in details that you couldn’t when you first arrived. the trees and greenery surrounding the palace were things you did not get at home, the forever winter killing off any color you longed to see. crops and livestock were held miles from the palace, outside of the reach of your vision and the invisible leash your father had kept you on, but here they thrived under the midday sun. you had a horse that you called your own, but you were only allowed to use him to travel to nearby towns on the outskirts of the palace property, right outside of the strong walls that surrounded it. none of the villagers there spoke to you past cold formalities, no matter how hard you tried, so eventually you gave up, settling for spending your time inside the castle.

here you found that you simply had to step outside of the palace walls to feel the soft grass beneath your feet, to smell the earth under your nose, to drink in the vibrant pinks and purples of the flowers in the gardens. there were so many trees, tall and strong with no walls blocking your vision of the soft foliage. you found a quiet bench under a tree, leaves and twigs decorating it’s surface from disuse, and you decided to call it your own despite having no ownership of any part of these grounds.

no ownership yet, if your father had anything to do about it.

you sat there for hours, drinking in the scenery as the sun made it’s path across the clear sky. you had expected boredom to creep around the edges of your mind, but it never came. the tranquility was so addictive that you found yourself back there, on that same bench, the next morning. and the next, your feet carrying you there before you were even fully awake.

“penny for your thoughts?” a deep voice disrupts your peace on that third day as a slender body sits on the bench next to you, just close enough that the warmth of his body touches your skin. you’re equal parts relieved and distressed when you see that it’s felix, and you smile at him in greeting, hoping that it didn’t come out as a grimace. this time when you meet his eyes, you make an effort to not look away.

“i do not get to see things such as this at home,” you wave your hand towards the garden, towards the birds chirping and the gentle sound of a stream bubbling. “it is beautiful. serene, you know?”

you don’t know how to act around him, and you certainly didn’t expect him to approach you. your words came out awkward, sounding unpracticed and superficial, and you try and hold back a flush from taking over your face. you hoped it wasn’t outstandingly clear how uncomfortable you were in his presence. do better than that, your father’s voice rings in your head.

“i agree,” he turns away from you, drinking in the picture-perfect view in front of you. “i am very lucky to call this place my home. what is yours like?”

“gray,” you deadpan, and the responding laugh he grants you makes your heart skip. better.

“there must be something beautiful there, it cannot just be you, right?” he says, a playful smirk tugging his lips upwards.

“flattery will get you nowhere, my prince,” you shoot back, enjoying the moment of quick banter between the two of you before your words turned sober. “when my mother was alive, she would paint the hallways and the walls of our chambers with beautiful flowers and vines and clouds. the flowers were my favorite part, she painted them in such beautiful shades of purples and yellows. most of them have been painted over, but the ones in my chambers remain. those are my favorite part of the castle, the most beautiful things i have ever seen.”

“i would love to see it one day,” he says, adamant and genuine as he takes your hand in his to squeeze it once before letting it go.

“maybe you could visit?” you look up at him through your lashes, a fake gesture to toy with him that left you feeling staticky and wrong. it was a complete lie - you would never subject this beautiful boy to the somberness of your home, lest it dull his brightness. even though he might not have a home soon, you push away the thought.

“only if it means i can see more of you, and not having you hide away,” he says, pointedly, though his face shows no malice.

“it is overwhelming, for me,” you explain, embarrassed at having been caught. “to be surrounded by strangers.”

“yes,” his eyes are far away for a moment, his head deep in thought. “i understand.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the next morning you had only just left your chambers, planning for another day exploring the greenery around the palace, when you spot felix leaning against the wall opposite of the door. he approaches you with a warm smile and takes your hand, his skin soft under your fingertips. how long had he been waiting there for you?

“my lady,” he bows his head, bringing the back of your hand to his lips to press a kiss there, as he had done when you first arrived. “would you care for a walk around the palace? it would be my honor to be your escort for the day.”

“if you ask so nicely,” you smile back, humor seeping into your voice naturally. “how can i refuse?”

“excellent,” his smile widens and he holds an arm out for you to take. “i’ll take you to meet my friends! that way, you will have friends here, too, instead of strangers.”

his friends, you thought, would be nobles and lords and other members of high class that you would have to make fake pleasantries with. while his gesture was sweet, you had no interest making relations with the elite members of this court, the ones whose lives you were planning on upending. the last thing you expected was for him to take you straight to the kitchens, down winding hallways and corridors, marked by the ever increasing aroma of delicious baked goods and mouthwatering herbs.

“minho!” felix exclaims, bouncing on his heels excitedly, catching the attention of a man who was frowning deeply at a pot bubbling over a fire. “this is y/n, i am taking her around the castle today. y/n, this is minho, the king of our kitchens, and a dear friend of mine.”

the way he introduced you, so casually, was perplexing; no one had ever spoken your name without princess or lady preceding it. even more so was his casual use of king when talking about someone of lower class, a term that should be solely reserved for his father.

“hello, my lady,” minho looks up, his lips turning up into a graceful smile, slightly crooked teeth peeking through his lips. his hair curls around his ears a bit, dainty jewelry adorning his lobes, and his features look almost sculpted in perfection. he’s absolutely beautiful.

“is everyone in your kingdom this pretty?” you blurt out, forgetting yourself, and minho barks into laughter. felix’s hand moves to lay on your arm, right at the crook of your elbow, and if it wasn’t for the amused smile on his face you may have thought you upset him.

“you are one to talk, my lady,” minho says, delight on his face that quickly morphs into exasperation as the pot he was monitoring earlier begins to bubble over.

“careful, min,” felix drawls out, his fingers curling further into your arm. almost possessively. interesting. “she is our guest, not someone for you to flirt with.”

“alright, your royal highness,” minho says distractedly, stirring vigorously. “now stop distracting me, unless you want raw meat and vegetables for dinner tonight.”

felix grins in response, shooting a wave at the cook before leading you to a door in the back of the kitchens. it follows outside to a set of fields you hadn’t laid eyes on before, a cobblestone path winding through it like a river.

“so, do you think i am pretty too?” he teases as he leads you down the path, towards a set of men - knights - sparring in the midday sun. “or is that reserved for minho?”

“well-” you laugh, startled at his boldness. “i will not lie, you certainly are beautiful. but do not let it get to your head.”

“well as you said, flattery gets you nowhere, my lady,” he laughs too, and the two of you break all composure as you lean into each other. it’s almost too easy to be casual with him, too natural to break the carefully taught formalities that were drilled into you. you thought it might be a challenge, or awkward at the minimum, to get close to the prince, but you’re finding it to be quite an enjoyable experience thus far.

as you approach the knights, sweaty and panting from the exertion of their practice, you point out two men stand out from the rest, wearing armor with the royal colors showing proudly rather than the simple silver of the other knights. they held themselves with grace, power exuding off of them almost effortlessly, and they spark your interest.

“changbin and jisung,” felix points them out. “chris’ most trusted knights, and our friends. i pray for you if you ever get into a poker match with those two, they’ll cheat you out of every coin in your purse, the rascals.”

his voice is fond as his words are teasing, a juxtaposition that fascinates you. you don’t think you can recall a time where someone has used an insult as a term of endearment as he had just done. you lock this away in the back of your mind to ponder on later as you take in the two knights in front of you. the shorter one is clearly fond of exercise, if the muscles that even his heavy armor can’t hide is any clue. his hair is as dark as a raven’s feathers, curling from sweat, and his face is kind. the one next to him is slimmer, but no less strong. his face is round, cheeks swelling from the gummy smile he’s wearing, and his eyes are so pretty.

“felix!” the more muscular one, changbin as felix had pointed out, beams at the man beside you. “care to join? your moves must be getting rusty with all the sitting around you royals do.”

felix sends a glare to changbin, no heat behind the gesture, and him and jisung laugh in response.

“i have company, you scoundrels,” felix complains, almost in a whine. “could you not just boast about my prowess on the battlefield? you had to make me look bad?”

“please, lix,” jisung teases before turning his attention to you. “he may not be the most powerful warrior, but he is quick. the most agile swordwork i have seen, probably. it is like he is dancing with his opponent.”

felix flushes, shy under the compliments of his knights, his friends.

“hyunjin and seungmin must be around here somewhere,” felix muses as he walks you down the corridor lined with knights, back inside and down a hallway you haven’t seen before. “this is where mine and chris’ chambers are. hyunjin is chris’s personal secretary, and seungmin is mine. though, i would consider him more of a menace than anything else.”

his voice is lined with fondness again, like the way he spoke about minho and changbin and jisung. it’s the same manner as how he talks about his father and his brother, his family. it was like they were all his kin, regardless of blood.

“you are on a first name basis with the staff here?” you ask after a lull of silence, curiosity winning over your hesitance. your own handmaidens did not address you by name, the women who were your closest companions since you were young girls. you had never even thought to grant them the privilege of doing so.

“we treat everyone with the same respect, regardless of status or bloodline,” he says, words sounding a little colder than usual.

“do not misunderstand,” you quickly correct, not wanting to offend him. because you want him to trust you, your mind supplies. not because you want him to like you. “i think it admirable. it is…different, to how things are in my kingdom. i am simply not used to it. i would prefer it this way, if i had the choice.”

it wasn’t a complete lie; you were searching for words that would win him your favor, but it surprised you how naturally they came to you.

“do you not?” he furrows his brow, looking at you in confusion. whatever iciness he had before had melted into befuddlement, like he genuinely didn’t understand. “have a choice, i mean.”

you don’t know how to tell him you don’t have many choices at all.

the silence takes over the both of you again, less comfortable than before, but he remains quiet as if he can sense the thoughts whirling inside of your head. it’s only when you reach the limits of the palace property that you’re thrown out of your mind, glancing at him with unspoken question.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the lower towns to end our day,” he explains, no signs of lingering animosity from your previous conversation. “it is my favorite place to go to get away from the palace once in a while.”

the lower towns, like most things in this kingdom, were not what you had expected. there were children playing in the streets, laughing and screaming while their parents watched on in exasperation. markets lined the cobblestones you walked on, selling vibrant fabrics and jewelry, freshly baked goods and crisp produce, and a variety of trinkets that overwhelmed you in the best way, patrons were striking bargains for products on every corner, trading goods for coin, a smile on each face you encountered.

it was a good distinction from the towns you were used to, where knights patrolled to ensure nothing was amiss. people there lived in fear, not in joy. everywhere you turned, people smiled at the prince beside you, and he would wave back or offer a small nod, ever polite. the few times you had managed to sneak into the lower towns to buy paints and canvas or trinkets as gifts for your handmaidens, you had gone in a thick cloak that covered your face lest you be recognized. here, walking around in your day dress, you felt almost naked.

a child runs up to felix and wraps his small arms around his legs, bouncing excitedly on his heels.

“prince lixie!” he squeals, and felix leans down to ruffle his hair, a large smile on his face. it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. “is that a princess?”

it takes you a moment to realize that the child is asking about you. you don’t interact with children much, your father would never allow them to touch you like the boy is with felix.

“yes, she is,” felix whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. “a very beautiful princess. why don’t you say hello?”

“hello,” the boy turns shy, peeking his head out from behind felix’ leg. the child, you found, could be forgiven for his lack of decorum when addressing you. he had a lot to learn at his young age. “i am joshua.”

“hi, little one,” you say, a little awkward as felix’ eyes are trained on you. “i am y/n.”

you were at loss for words, but the few words you managed to give had the boy practically beaming at you in response. you watch as felix tells him to return to his friends, because you and him were on official palace business, and the boy nods sagely before scampering off.

“sorry about him,” he says once lucas is out of sight. “i have been visiting him in the village since he was very little. i have taken a liking to him, naughty as he is. he is the son of one of the merchants here, and he lost his mother years ago. i see myself in him.”

“he is precious,” you take his arm again as he continues down the path. “i always wanted to visit the children in the orphanages at home, but i-” you cut yourself off, a habit you’ve taken to since arriving here. i need to learn to think before speaking. “i have not gotten the chance.”

“the children here are lovely,” he says. “i like learning from them. they keep me humble, remind me that not everyone is born with such privilege.”

he says it so simply, as if it’s his right to question such things; a man born into royalty surely has no business spending time with lower-class children, learning from them. it is one thing to offer them a coin, something that the kingdom could clearly spare. but what could they possibly teach him that his well-respected tutors could not?

you didn’t bring it up, afraid that he would react the same way he had earlier, when you questioned his informality with his staff. afraid that maybe, he would react in anger, though you couldn’t quite imagine the perfect lines of his face twisted into anything but peace.

before the two of you leave, he stops at one of the many stands selling an array of sparking jewelry and scarves, and he asks you if you would like anything. you want to say yes, the handmade twists of metal and dyed fabrics captivating you, but you shyly shake your head.

you almost miss his forlorn expression when you refuse, turning away from the stand. it’s better this way, to not receive gifts from him. there will be nothing in your possession to remember him by, then.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

as felix drops you off at your door in the evening, the day comes crashing down on you - he’s so kind. everyone here is, from the royal family to the staff and the people living in the villages outside the gates. throughout the entire day you spent with felix, you did not once think about why you were here, simply enjoying his company and learning about him, not the secrets you were tasked with uncovering.

it’s given you a lot to think about.

as he leaves, he runs a gentle hand down your arm from your shoulder to your wrist, squeezing gently before walking away. even his strides are made in lovely, even steps that makes him look other-worldly.

you lean against the doorframe, taking a deep breath to try and settle yourself, and it’s then that a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye captures your attention.

a servant is standing just down the hallway opposite from the one felix disappeared into, the same servant who had walked you to your chambers the very first day. the first person here who had smiled at you for no reason other than to be kind.

“hello,” you call out softly, beckoning him closer to you; you don’t know who looks more nervous out of the two of you as he approaches you with uncertain steps. “what is your name?”

“jeongin, my lady,” he almost whispers, hesitant, wide eyes trained on you.

“nice to meet you, jeongin,” your lips tug upwards. he’s adorable.

“we have met before,” he blurts out, smacking his hands over his mouth. “i am sorry, i spoke out of turn. i just meant…”

he trails off, looking down shyly.

“meant what, jeongin?” you ask, sure to keep your voice light and free of demand despite the curiosity starting to burn in you. what did he mean, you’ve met before? surely, he means within the palace earlier that week, right?

“i used to live in your kingdom,” he admits, his fingers playing with them hem of his tunic. “when i was younger. my mother was a servant in your castle.”

“really?” you gasp, understanding and puzzlement taking over simultaneously.

“yes, but i left when i was still young,” he explains. “i remember you, though. you were always kind. i admired you for that.”

“thank you, jeongin,” you manage to force out, knowing that you did not deserve his kind words, even as informal as they were given. he was wrong; you were just as wicked as the rest of the nobles in your court. perhaps you were simply better at hiding it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father pulls you into an empty corridor near your chambers the next day, his strength harsh enough to make you stumble over your feet.

“what have you learned,” he speaks in hushed tones, scared of being overheard. it’s more of a demand than a question, as if he simply expected you to have what he needs after such little time.

“i spent the entire day with him yesterday,” you start, choosing your words carefully, lest he discover that you’re actually enjoying yourself here. “he took me around the castle, and i have an idea of the layout, in the case that we need to make a hasty exit.”

“anything else?” he pushes, leaning further into your space.

“they are…unusually fond of their staff here,” you divulge, more reluctant to give up this information. “they might be of use.”

“good girl,” his smirk is like frost, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. a gesture that, to others, may have seemed paternal, protective. though his touch sends an unpleasant shiver up your spine, his words satisfy some sick satisfaction within you - the need for his approval was met.

“your mother would be proud.”

as he walks away, it makes you queasy how those words make you straighten up, proud. pleased. living in the echo of your mother’s footsteps for so long made you doubtful that you would ever be able to fill them, but maybe this was a start.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you see felix later, walking to the banquet hall with another boy dressed in simple clothes. they pause by the entrance, deep in conversation, and you duck behind a pillar, out of their sight. you’re just close enough to hear snippets of their conversation, when their voices raise from their hushed whispers. they must not want to be overheard, you realize, straining your ears harder. this was your chance to gather some kind useful information for your father.

you close your eyes and listen, picking up puzzle pieces of she’s sick and time off and you’ve almost completed the puzzle when it hits you - though any conversation they might have had was not meant for you to hear, this one in particular felt like a breach of privacy. not of felix’ but of the boy standing before him.

his secretary, seungmin, that he had spoken about the previous day. the boy who, as you had just learned, had a sick mother, and was requesting some time away to care for her. as you peek around the pillar, you see felix rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the boy before pulling him in for a gentle hug.

he’s friends with his staff, and he touches them so casually? this didn’t fit. it fit nothing of the way you were brought up, formality and proprietary trained into you, and it fit nothing of the picture your father had painted of the royals that ruled over this kingdom. it seems that with every observation, instead of answers you were left with more and more questions.

“what are you doing?” a voice sounds from behind you, too close, and you nearly jump.

“what?” you breathe out, turning to see jeongin standing behind you, eyes wide.

“you were just standing there with your eyes closed,” he explains. “is everything okay?”

“my lady,” you correct, the words leaving your mouth as if it had a mind of its own. “is everything okay, my lady.”

“oh,” he says, twisting his bottom lip between his teeth. “apologies, my lady. there is no such need for formalities here, i had forgotten.”

“it is alright,” you assure, watching as he relaxes and lets out a breath.

“just, a word of advice?” he says, continuing before you could tell him that no, you didn’t want nor need his advice. “if you are going to be here for some time, you should try and adapt. not to overstep, my lady, you just might find yourself more comfortable if you relax a bit.”

he walks away with a smile, and you’re left alone to reflect on his words. he did overstep, but it does not mean he didn’t give you something useful. adapt, he had said, and perhaps he had a point. felix seemed to be more open with you when you were agreeable, when you didn’t question his strange impropriety.

maybe becoming one of them, even through a facade, was the key to unlocking whatever you needed to find.

he arrives at your door as the sun was setting, light knocks accompanied by a call of your name that you almost couldn’t hear. you call out softly for him to enter, a delighted smile taking over your face when you see what he has grasped in his hand, held out in offering.

a beautiful bouquet of flowers, wrapped in creamy tulle. the petals were a vibrant purple, highlighted by sharp yellows and soft whites towards their center. they were violas, your mother’s favorite flower.

you hadn’t seen one since she had passed. your father had forbade anyone from growing them on his lands.

“how did you know?” you gasp, smiling at him brightly as you take them from him. you move them closer to your face, and if you were alone you might bury your face into them, savoring their powdery sweet smell. “that these were my favorite flower?”

“you told me,” he says, ears turning pink under your attention. “that your mother painted your room in purple flowers. i just guessed, but from your reaction i hope i got it right?”

how had he remembered such a small detail that you had given him, when you knew little to nothing about him?

“oh, felix, they’re perfect. you remembered such a small thing?”

“there are a lot of things i wish to know about you,” he confesses.

“likewise,” you smile at him.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

smoke, creeping through the gap between the floor and the wooden door, rising in curling pillars towards you. snaking around your neck, entering your throat and your nostrils, burning your lungs to ash. you scramble for the doorknob, but the moment your fingers hit it you’re snatching your hand back - it’s icy hot, unable to touch.

there is no escape.

the windows - covered by royal blue curtains, catch fire from below, and you throw them back. you need air, something to clear out your crumbling lungs, but when you look outside the city is on fire. red-hot flames lick up the side of the palace, trees turned barren and flowers burned to a crisp.

in the center you can see felix, flames surrounding him but not touching. he’s whispering something, and you cry out that you can’t hear him. speak louder, please, you beg. help me.

“this is your fault,” he speaks, his voice right in your ear, but when you turn towards it, it’s not felix next to you. it’s your father.

his hand slides around your waist, pulling you close to him, embracing you.

“good work,” he says, proud smile on his face as the both of you watch the city fall to the flames. “i knew you could do it.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

since the younger prince had taken you on a tour of the castle, you’ve seen him every day. sometimes he would greet you at breakfast, disappearing afterwards only for him to show up at your door later to ask you on a walk around the grounds. other times he would be waiting for you outside your chambers when you woke up with a basket of fresh pasties baked by minho for you to enjoy together, and he would watch in delight as you savored the flavors. on rarer days, you would only see him in passing while he was between duties, but he would stop to press a kiss to the back of your hand, every time.

you played along with him, accepting his flirting and responding in turn. it came instinctively, and you often forgot that you were meant to be luring him into a false companionship, not a real one. he was alluring, smart with a fragment of recklessness, soft with sharp edges, a perfect balance of everything.

as the days passed, he would get bolder. his touches lingered for longer, the searing heat of his hand pressing on your arm, your shoulder, on the small of your back. his kisses moved from your hands to your cheeks and your temples, to the crown of your head, and it left you aching for more. he didn’t hold back his compliments, reflecting not only on how beautiful he found you but also how thought you were clever, intelligent, good-natured. you never thought those things about yourself, but something in the way he said it made you think they were true.

in the times that you weren’t with felix, you spent time with jeongin. the boy was as sweet as he looked, the the more time you spent together, the more his shyness melted away to reveal sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. you found your own walls dropping around him too, his easy companionship making it difficult to remain closed off to him. he reminded you of the home of your childhood, the one that you missed fiercely, and you were grateful to have him by your side. he kept you humble, holding you accountable for the way you acted, even though a spark of fear remained within him any time he spoke his mind in that regard. you managed to hold back your annoyance at his remarks, and soon you found that it simply faded out of reach. you became fast friends, almost too quickly, evidenced by the way he would raise his eyebrows at you when he saw you with felix, like he could see right through you.

you were lucky that your attraction to the prince was all that he could see through. the weight of your impending betrayal was like a shackle on your ankle, following you wherever you went, impossible to truly forget about. while you had yet to learn anything about the royal family that could serve as a benefit to your father, you saw your relationship with felix as a betrayal in it’s own right. if you were better, you would leave him alone - you would leave this kingdom entirely, and refuse to play any part in their downfall. but you couldn’t physically stay away.

you couldn’t stop from filing away small bits of information that might serve to be useful, either. the prince’s brother’s favorite meal, in case the opportunity to poison him came along. his father’s daily schedule, told to you by felix freely when you had asked, your fingertip running down his arm from his shoulder to his wrist. the likely areas where secrets may have been hidden, restricted to you and glossed over by felix when he would walk with you around the castle. you hated it, categorizing this information into handy little parcels that you would deliver to your father.

a welcome distraction came in the form of the very thing you should be avoiding; on a few occasions, felix had christopher and his betrothed, roseanne, accompany the two of you on whatever excursion he had planned for that day.

a simple picnic in the garden, juicy fruits picked just that morning and fresh baked bread and crumbly cheeses to snack on while the four of you talked. conversation came easy with chris and roseanne, once you broke out of the too familiar anxiety that surrounded you when with new people. felix’s warmth from where he was settled next to you, allowing you to lean into him, helped more than you wanted to tell him. chris was so similar to his brother, sharing his kindness and his humor, though his jokes were cheesier than felix’ dry sarcasm. roseanne was lovely, someone who you could see as a close friend under different circumstances.

a on a visit to the lower towns, just as lively as it was the first time you went. it was then that you officially met hyunjin and seungmin, the prince’s assistants. the way they bickered with one another, and their royal counterparts, made you laugh so hard that your stomach ached with it. even they were striking, and it left you wondering whether one’s disposition on the inside reflected their beauty on the outside.

your friendly chatter continued into mealtimes, where the kings would join you, the very few times where you would get to see king stephen at all. he bantered with his children, asking them about their days and their plans for the next ones, acted like a father instead of a king with them. it sent a pang of longing through you - your father had been like that, before. you don’t think he remembered how to be a father, anymore.

as much as you loved the prince’s company, you hated the approving nods you would get from your father whenever he saw you and felix together. the acknowledgement that you craved for just weeks ago felt near futile now - he didn’t see that instead of making the prince fall for you, the opposite was taking place. he didn’t see the genuine connection between the two of you, the way you craved for him, the way nothing else seemed to matter when he was in front of you. he didn’t care about your heart, about how it would likely break beyond compare when he he was finished here. he didn’t care about you.

the you that was falling for felix. for his compassion, for his gentle nature, for his quick wit and effortless beauty. for the way he treated those around him, for the way he spoke to you like you were more than a pawn in a cruel game of chess. it made you sick to your stomach to think about what was to come, what you hopelessly wished you could avoid. you find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you and your father were truly here seeking peace. that you could imagine a future here without guilt gnawing at your chest.

the closer you grow to felix, the stronger the gnawing feeling in your stomach becomes. but you can’t stay away from him, even if you tried; the sparking light in his eyes drew you in and you were helpless to his magnetic pull. the way he would beckon you over with his hand, palm facing upright as if waiting to join with your own, left you no choice but to go to him. you knew you were selfish, spending time with him out of your own desires while doing nothing to warn him of what was to come and making no actions to follow through with your father’s wishes. you knew your time here, living in peace, was running short, the last dribbles of sand slipping down an hourglass.

and yet, when he finally pulled you into an empty alcove and held you close so that he could press his lips gently to yours, you let him. you responded in kind, moving together with him like some kind of dance.

when he invited you into his chambers and into his bed, you didn’t say no. even then, when he gave you all of himself, you took it.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, this time contained in a ring of wooden slats, smoke curling up into the night sky. felix, by your side, you tucked into his side while the two of you claim it’s warmth for your own.

“why?” felix says, running a hand up and down your arm. you hum, snuggling further into him when a breeze makes it way to you through the trees surrounding you.

“why what?” you ask, voice syrupy sweet.

“why did you do it?” he turns towards you, the flames still visible in his eyes. he glances over your shoulder pointedly before turning back to the campfire, pulling you into him again. you look behind you, and a firestorm meets your vision. you can barely make out the outline of the beautiful palace through the inferno, but a figure stands out in the center of it. you move closer, the heat threatening to scorch your skin, to see your father strapped to stake. burning. dying.

you turn back towards felix, question dying on your lips when he’s not there. a sick feeling enters your stomach as your gaze returns to the fire, and where your father was is felix in his place.

you let out a horrid scream.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

waking up to the sight of felix, blonde hair illuminated by the morning light like a halo around his head, was something you think you could never get used to. even if you were allowed this under better circumstances, if the two of you had fallen together after meeting at a ball or a diplomatic meeting, his beauty was something that you truly could not comprehend.

you have half a mind to scold both him and yourself for breaking proprietary, for falling into bed with one another out of wedlock, as parts of two separate kingdoms that have yet to establish ties. you don’t, though; you were as much at fault as he was, and you had enjoyed it too much to ruin it for either of you. you do not acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up inside of you from your dishonesty, or the remainder of fear that lingered from your dream. looking at felix while he slept seemed like a much better way to spend your time.

he is equal parts pretty and cute when he mumbles, smacking his lips together as his eyelids flutter, holding onto the last pieces of sleep he can. when his brown eyes peek through his eyelashes and land on you, you can see the smile in his gaze.

“morning,” his deep voice rumbles, and he pulls you close to him by the waist. you land almost on top of him, his movement making you lose your balance from where you were perched on your elbow watching him, and you both let out breathless laughter at your undignified flailing. you settle against him, his chest pillowing your head while you trace senseless patterns into whatever patches of skin you can find.

you can still feel the phantom touches that he had imprinted on you the night before, as he held you more gently than anyone ever had. you can feel the silky smooth strands of his hair under your fingers, the ghost of his breath panting against your neck. you can hear the sweet sounds you pulled out of him over and over.

“penny for your thoughts?” he asks, just as he did when he met you in the gardens the very first time.

“mm,” you sound, not wanting to break the peaceful silence the two of you were basking in. “just thinking about my mother.”

“oh,” his face drops in sadness. not in pity, but in compassion. in empathy, for of all people he would understand; he lost his mother, too. “can i ask how she passed?”

a refusal is at the tip of your tongue, as it is when anyone asks about your mother, but it fizzles out when you look at him. you found yourself wanting to talk about this with him.

“she was sick,” you start, early memories of your childhood filtering into your head. “since i can remember, she was sick. it took over her body slowly, it took years for her to succumb to being bedridden. she would paint for hours and hours, back then, until she collapsed. but then, it took over her mind too. that was the worst part, her forgetting who my father was, who i was, forgetting who she was. when she passed, it was almost a relief, i could not stand to see her in that state of pain anymore. i was twelve, when it happened.”

“i am sorry,” his voice is deep, thick with sadness. “that sounds like something a child should never have to go through.”

“what about…” you trail off, not wanting to make it sound like the two of you were trading secrets like giggling children.

“she was murdered by bandits, in the lower towns, just a few years ago,” he answered your unfinished question. “she went further than she was supposed to go from the castle grounds, and she always refused to bring knights with her. my father blames himself, and i blamed him for a long time too. but it was not his fault.”

“i am sorry, too,” you place your hand on his cheek, hoping the weight of your caress would surpass the lack of words you offered him.

“as strange as it is to say, i-” he cuts off for a second, letting out a strangled laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “i am glad that you understand. it is hard telling these things to people that have not experienced that kind of pain.”

you don’t think it’s strange at all. it settles something within you, the part of you that had felt so alone for years. for all of his charms, it was this display of raw honesty that transformed what you had thought to be superficial attraction into something more, something deeper.

“i feel the same,” you close your eyes, trying to tamper the nausea that arose at those words. you’re going to take his father from him too, your back-stabbing mind informs you. and his brother, you don’t deserve his comfort.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

your father calls for you that morning, sending a note to your chambers. you only see it when you finally get out of felix’ bed and make it to your own to freshen up, a smile present on your face that you can’t help.

every step you take towards your father’s chambers feels more and more like you’re signing your death wish, and the sound of his door opening several moments after you knock on it sounds like cannon-fire in your head.

“you asked for me?” you move closer to the desk where he had sat, and from your position you could see messy piles of paper with words that had been angrily scrawled on them.

“i have asked you for many things,” he starts, voice dripping with condescension. “but it is good to see that you can manage to follow simple orders.”

his passive aggression makes your blood boil; after weeks of being treated so kindly by your hosts, your patience was wearing thin in the face of your father.

“i am trying to earn their trust fully,” you try to reason. “it is taking longer than expected.”

“and sharing a bed with him is not enough? whoring yourself out to them has not given you the opportunity to find out what you need?” his words were almost enough to make your skin catch fire. how did he possibly know what you and felix had done? “complete what i have asked of you, now. the faster we finish this, the quicker we can leave this horrid place.”

leave this place, and go back to what? an empty castle where you are disrespected, forgotten, ignored? a place with no life, no joy, no laughter? you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you were certain that going back was not a favorable outcome.

“i’m not a servant that you can bark orders to,” you bit out, regretting it almost instantly when he stood up so fast that his chair fell to the floor behind him.

“watch your mouth,” he growls, stalking towards you, and you take a few steps back from him. “it seems that the only thing you’ve learned from the insolent brats here is how to be weak. how to disrespect your king, the one who has clothed you and fed you since you were born.”

your king, he said. not your father.

he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back, back, back until you’re up against the door, his grip strong enough that you knew would leave behind a ring of bruises. you wish you could deem this unfamiliar, but the sensation of feeling pain caused by his hands was not uncommon.

“i am growing tired of your excuses. you think they care about you? they would kill you in an instant if they knew what you have been hiding.” he moves closer, until his face is inches from yours and you cannot look anywhere but at him. “if you know what is good for you, you will stop this insolence and do as i say.”

when he removes his grip from you, your knees give out, and you brace yourself against the doorframe to keep from falling. he returns to his desk, not sparing you a glance as you leave his chambers and close the door behind you.

you don’t notice the frightened frame that had been standing outside the door through the tears clouding your vision.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you’re sitting at the fireplace in your chambers when you hear your door open, jeongin slipping in and closing it quietly behind him. he settles himself next to you, taking in your haggard appearance.

“your father is not here to make peace, is he?” he asks, his voice quiet and free of judgment. like he was confirming what he was already known to be true, not making an accusation.

“no,” you answer simply, too exhausted to try and lie to him. your friend. maybe the first real one you’ve ever had.

“you are helping him.” he says, letting a crumb of distress loose into his voice.

“yes.”

“you have come here under the illest of intentions, gained our trust,” he starts, calm. quiet.

“i know,” you sigh.

“you are going to hurt a lot of people.“

“i know.”

“you are going to do it, even though you do not want to.”

“i know, jeongin!” you snap, feeling guilty when he jumps a little.

“it’s just,” he’s playing with his fingers, a tell of his nerves. “i remember what it was like, at home. before, and then after. when things changed, when people became meaner. more cold, and closed off. that is why we left, and came here. don not make us go through that again.”

“i am sorry,” you whisper, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach at his words. all you can offer him is an empty apology, useless as it is.

“i had hoped that you would be different. that you would stay true to who you were, or who i thought you to be.” he’s looking into the fire, not blinking as if mesmerized. as if he’s trying to dissociate from this moment in a way you wish you could. “when i saw you here, you still had it. that light, from before.”

“i do not want to do it, innie,” you choke out, echoing his words while your eyes burned. “i do not know what to do. i never wanted this, i hate it.”

“i know,” he says. “i can see it. in everything you do, your hesitation, the way you hold yourself back. but you do not understand.”

“understand what?” you’re exhausted, you don’t have it in yourself to be frustrated at him.

“that you have a choice,” he says, as if it was a simple thing. “that you can choose to end this, choose to do what you know is right.”

“i am scared,” you wobble out.

“being scared is good,” he finally breaks away from the fire, but the light in his eyes burns just as bright when he looks at you. “it makes you genuine. that is what makes you different from him. but you do not have to let that stop you.”

“i do not know how,” you whisper, voice barely carrying over to him.

“figure it out,” he says, just as quiet. “or i will do something, that you will not like. i will not let you harm my friends, no matter who you are.”

he leaves you then, slipping out of the chambers as quietly as he had come in, leaving you to your thoughts and what felt like a never ending stream of silent tears flowing from your eyes.

the next morning, you hand jeongin a note to give to hyunjin for christopher.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the sun had been set for hours when you wrap a scarf around your neck to hind the greenish blue splotches forming around your neck and secure the buckles on your boots. you hadn’t seen felix all day, but you knew that if he asked you to spend the night with him that you wouldn’t be able to follow through with what you were about to to.

your cloak shrouds your face from anyone who might be awake as you quickly make your way through the gardens, to the bench that you often inhabited. christopher is already waiting there for you, a grim look on his face.

“why did you ask me here, my lady?” he asks, clearly confused.

“please, i need you to listen to me,” your voice is hushed, like you’re scared of anyone hearing despite the hour of day and the concealed location you had chosen.”i am going to tell you things that you will not like, but i need you to listen until the end.”

“are you alright?” he looks concerned at how desperate you sound, but you shake your head. now isn’t the time for him to worry about you.

you tell him everything. the things your father had said about his family, the plan he had concocted before even stepping foot in this kingdom, the way his demands have been increasing from your lack of progress. the way you had changed as a result of being around the people here, that you didn’t wish to play in your father’s game any longer. you watch as his face morphs from surprise to anger to betrayal and back again, a cycle of emotions that might be comical under any other circumstance.

there were many ways you could have done this; telling the king for one, but this would open the chance of him ending your life along with your father. trying again to reason with your him, making it clear that you weren’t going to comply with his demands, but you could never see him compromising his mission. there was one single thing that you had thought of that had a chance of succeeding, with your head still attached to your body.

you end your speech with a demand, simple as it is, and that’s when he shows disbelief.

“you want me to kill your father?” he asks, incredulous.

“i may have loved him once,” you admit, voice thick with emotion. “but not anymore. he is not my father anymore, he is a tyrant. there is not a single soul in the kingdoms that would benefit from him being alive.”

“how do i know i can trust you?” he raises a cool brow, indifference masking whatever he was truly feeling underneath. “what if this is part of your plot?”

“you do not have time to consider my legitimacy!” you cry out, desperate. “i have tried to delay him, to think of some way out of this. he is getting angrier by the day and i fear that he will do something without thinking, something bad, and soon.”

“why not just leave then?” he asks, as if giving you a test. for all it was worth, it was a test that you wanted to pass. “why go through all of this when you could just get out, save yourself?”

“that would not be fair to my people, to leave them with him,” your words come out more passionate than you expected them to. “they deserve better than that. and it would not be fair to you, either. you have shown me more compassion than anyone has since my mother was alive. i will not repay that kindness by leaving like a coward.”

“has he hurt you?” the question catches you off guard, as does the concern filtering through his gaze. you bite your tongue; you want to answer, tell him yes, but that tiny, frightened version of you inside stops the words from coming out. you want to pull down your scarf, show him visible proof of the way your father treats you, but your hands feel like lead. he takes your silence as a confirmation though, nodding and cursing under his breath.

“i will not kill him,” he says, and you open your mouth to beg, plead for him to listen, but he holds a hand out as he continues. “but i will keep my guard up. i will not take this lightly; my father’s life is in danger, and i will take every precaution while i gain information.”

you sigh through your nose, defeat making your body sag into the bench. this was your last chance; chris may as well have just sealed all of your fates.

“please understand,” he says, weary. “i cannot go to my father with accusations when i have no proof. i believe you, i just need evidence before i can act.”

“please, just,” you say as you stand, not wanting to ask him for another impossible task he might refuse. “do not tell felix? i cannot have him getting caught up in this. i do not want him hurt.”

“you care about him.” he states, as if he is already sure of your answer.

“more than i thought possible,” you answer, and it is the truth.

“i cannot promise you that i will keep him in the dark. he is my brother,” he frowns. “we do not keep secrets from one another.”

“please,” it’s all you can say before you walk away, pulling your hood back over your face. you can only hope that he will listen to your plea. if not for your sake, but for felix’.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you should go to your own chambers, should stay away from felix until things were figured out, done and over. but your feet take you to his door instead of your own, and you’re inside his chambers before you can second-guess your stupid decision. you can tell he’s awake by his breathing, irregular and short, and it both pains and excites you that you are allowed to know things about him in that capacity.

“hi,” you keep your voice low, almost a purr as you climb into the bed and throw an arm around his curled up form. his nose scrunches and he wriggles a little bit, almost dislodging you, but you keep your grip strong. you don’t know when you will get this again.

“you smell like outside,” he complains, his body going lax. “where were you? i missed you.”

“just checking on some things,” you mumble into his skin, your lips finding home on the back of his neck. “i am all yours now.”

“do you not have people to check on things for you?” he asks, opening his eyes finally and turning his head towards you. you’re glad for the lack of light that keeps him from really seeing you. seeing the stress pinching your brows together, and the guilty frown that you can’t get rid of. “i have told you, my staff are there at your disposal. for whatever you need.”

“why trust others to do things i can do myself?” you quip back, the guilt of not telling him eating at you. you bury your face into his neck, hiding yourself, and the hand he tangles into your hair soothes you a bit. you feel tears welling up against your will and you let a shaky breath out into his honeyed skin.

“are you alright?” he tries to move your head up to look at you, but you refuse, shaking your head.

“i just really care about you, you know that right?” you admit, the last words you spoke to chris echoing in your head. “i didn’t expect to ever care about someone this much.”

“i care about you too,” confusion laces his words, and he runs a hand up and down your back. “are you sure you are alright?”

“i will be.”

so will he. you would make sure of it, somehow.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

felix is out of bed by the time you awaken the next morning, but it isn’t something unusual to wake up to cold sheets next to you. he is a prince, after all, and he can’t spend all hours of his day with you. if anything it’s better that he’s gone today; it will help you keep the distance that you failed to keep the night before.

you’re slow as you dress, the decision you made before you succumbed to sleep weighing heavily on your shoulders; you were going to speak to your father, for a final time. you were not going to give him a choice, you were going to rob him of the basic right that you he so often deprived you of. you were going to make him listen to you, for once.

but when you enter his chambers, he is absent from them. you try and dampen the dread creeping up your throat; surely, he wouldn’t act now? only a couple of days after you last spoke?

you approach his desk, looking for any sort of clue that might lead to his whereabouts, but what you find is worse than you’d imagined. pages upon pages of plans, detailed imagery of how he wanted to kill the king and his sons, how he wanted to enslave the people here, how he would take the resources here and let the land rot and decay, all scribbled down in near nonsensical sentences.

stupid man, leaving these out for anyone to see. you swipe them off the table, folding them neatly and tucking them into the bodice of your dress where no one would find them, just as your father enters the chambers. your hand flies to your chest, covering up what you had just done, but your father must think it an act of surprise from his lack of acknowledgement.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, eyes narrowed on you. you hold your head up even when you want to cower before him.

“the crowned prince knows of your betrayal,” you inform, watching as his eyes filled with anger. no fear, as you had expected.

“how,” he growls, making quick steps towards you and taking both of your arms in a harsh grip. his rings dig into your flesh,

“i told him,” you say, surprised when the words come out clean and leveled and your head stays up high. “i will not help you any longer. the king will know soon, and you will be thrown in prison.”

it was an empty threat; you knew the king was still unaware of what was going on.

“you would trade me for these people you barely know? the same people who killed your moth- your grandfather?” and it clicks into place. he made a mistake, he misspoke, and it showed the last of his cards that he had kept so carefully hidden from you. it’s clear now: he’s gone mad, searching for some kind of revenge, even if it is on the wrong people. he’s locked himself into some grief-fueled conspiracy, and you realize now that he’s truly lost to you. that he had been lost, for years now.

“you are not fit to rule over anything,” you snarl. “you are not fit to be a father, you are not fit to do anything more than sit here and place blame on everyone but yourself!”

he doesn’t react for several moments, searching your face for something, before letting out a bark of laughter, eyes wild.

“you ungrateful, insolent, stupid girl,” he shakes you with every word, and your teeth rattle. “you think you can threaten me?”

he raises a hand and the back of it strikes you across the cheek, metal catching on the delicate bone there. you fall to the ground, the force of it knocking you off balance, and when you raise a shaking hand to your burning skin it comes back flecked with blood.

“get out of my sight,” he spits at you, stepping around your form as if you were a mere pest before him. “this changes nothing. your threats mean nothing, but heed mine. if you ever step foot in front of me again, i will have you hanged. from now on, you are not my daughter. you are nothing.”

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

the walk to your chambers feels longer than usual despite your hurried steps, and you can’t shake the feeling that something unfortunate was going to happen, soon. what did your father mean when he said that your warning changed nothing? did he not believe you?

you don’t dwell on his clear descent to madness for long; you curse yourself for not seeing the blatant signs of it earlier, his obsession and his misplaced fury, but you know that there are more pressing issues that need your attention.

perhaps a further look at his aimless scribbling would give you some answers. either way, it was the proof you needed, the evidence chris claimed was necessary to have before approaching king stephen with your claims. you knew needed to act, and soon.

when you find felix already in your chambers, his presence is enough to qualm the hurricane raging under your skin. it comes back full force, though, when you look at him and he’s angry.

“when were you going to tell me,” he starts, voice ice cold like you’ve never heard it before. it terrified you. “that you were planning to kill my family?”

“what?” you gasp out, every nerve in your body freezing to stone. any urgency you were feeling regarding your father is wiped out, replaced with cold trepidation. chris told him.

“you came here to kill my father, to kill my brother and his love and to, to use me,” he grits out, voice trembling, and you can’t stand it.

“no, i-” you choke out, the words escaping you. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to show him what you had found and bring the evidence to his father together, but you can’t get it out. “maybe at first, but no, not anymore-”

“not anymore?” he cries out, incredulous. “how can i trust anything you say to me? you’ve been lying to me since you got here, lying about everything, lying about caring for me-”

“no, felix, i love you,” the confession rips out of you and the timing couldn’t be worse. you wanted to tell him after, when things were not in the uncertain state they were in now. you wanted to give him the confession he deserved, something worthy of the man that he was. he shakes his head at your words, crystal tears forming in his eyes.

“you do not get to say that to me,” he bites out. “i do not even know who you are, you have been lying to me from the beginning, playing with me, you do not get to say that.”

“i did not want to,” you almost wail, the feeling in your knees giving out as you fall to his feet. the emotions that you haven’t been letting yourself feel were pouring out of you. “i did not want to, but he would have killed me, or married me off to some brute to get rid of me and i had no idea what to do.”

you want to shout, look at what he did to me, look at the evidence of what he would do to me, but you can’t.

“stop. stop talking.” he drags you to your feet by the arm, grip harsh like he would rather do anything than be touching you right now. “get out of my chambers. i want you and your father out of my home, and if you do not leave i swear to the gods i will tell my father to have you hanged.”

you stumble towards his door, turning back to throw one last pleading glance at him, and you regret it as his next words cut you right to the core.

“they warned me about you, did you know that?” he’s no longer speaking out anger, but rather cold indifference. it’s worse, somehow. you wanted to ask who they were, but in the moment it truly didn’t matter. “they told me about your family, how vile you all are. how you would poison us from the inside. but when i laid eyes on you, i did not believe them. i know now, that i should have.”

your body remains frozen long after he leaves, and you don’t realize that your body has moved to your bed until jeongin peeks his head into the door.

“innie,” you choke out from where you’re laying over the covers. he rushes to your side, and his face falls when he sees the tears leaking from your eyes.

“what happened?” he pushes your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers, so gentle that you can’t help but let out a sob.

“felix,” you stutter out. “he hates me- he wants me gone. and i don’t blame him, i hate me, but innie, it hurts.”

you let jeongin pull you into his arms, tears leaking into his shirt, and even then your traitorous heart wishes it was felix holding you like this. the last thing you remember before sleep clouds your mind is jeongin whispering i’m sorry into your hair.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

fire, but this time it surrounds you. not burning, but encasing you in warmth, covering your body completely. it spreads, catching onto the surfaces around you.

it’s threatening to combust, taking you with it. you didn’t know what do to. flee? protect, your mind demands. so you run, past door after door, passing by people who beckon you inside. you can’t, you need to leave.

chris, asking you to come inside. minho, calling you in for a meal, fresh and fragrant. jeongin, asking you to join him, telling you he’s worried about you.

felix, standing still as stone on his balcony. your father behind him, eyes dark as they narrow in on the prince. no.

you rush to them, gliding past felix, your flame sliding off his skin like water. you push your father away, your momentum carrying the both of you forward as the flames catch on his frame.

falling, falling, falling, off the balcony towards an endless pit of darkness. you look up and felix is watching, beautiful face twisted in anguish as he watches the two of you plummet.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t leave. despite felix’ warnings, you didn’t make any moves to flee the castle. you needed to see this through, needed to ensure that the people here were safe; the only way you would leave this palace is in the absence of your father’s company. if you were going to die, you would rather it be by stephen’s hands than by his.

you almost don’t leave your chambers, terror paralyzing you as you sit on your bed, waiting nervously for something to happen. whether it be news from christopher about his efforts or a group of knights ready to take you to the dungeons, your body itched for some action. you don’t leave for breakfast, and you don’t let jeongin in when he quietly brings you a meal and leaves it at your door. you pick at it, watching the morning sun rise into the sky and wishing you had a jug of wine to drown yourself in.

by midday, you had made up your mind; you were going to enter the king’s chambers, deliver him the information you had, and sneak away from the palace at night. where you would go, you did not know, but you knew that you were not welcome in either court anymore. you had ostracized yourself from your home and from the group of people here that you hoped to one day call your family.

you had no one. and it was your own doing.

you push away the thought as you hurry through the familiar halls, stopping at one of the only doors you had yet to enter. the king wasn’t in his chambers, you discovered, when you spent several minutes knocking on the door to no avail. the council chambers were empty as well, and you felt your heart speed up as you raced through the halls, avoiding any person you saw. your boots clicked on the stone as you hastily entered and exited chambers and hallways, searching desperately for the king, hoping he was here somewhere.

you find them in the banquet hall, a smile on stephen’s face as he signs a long document with a feathered quill. you’re not close enough to see what it is from you’re standing behind a column at the entrance to the hall, hiding your presence from them. your father moves to stand next to the king when he finishes, leaning in close as he takes the quill from him, and he raises his hand behind the king’s back. in his hand, sunlight glints off of a piece of metal in his hand - a knife,

you look around desperately for a knight to alert, but you find none. why are there no knights here? your stomach lodges itself into your throat as you stare at the two kings, frozen as your father readies the knife, poised to strike stephen right in the center of his back -

“no!” you cry, breaking away from the spot you were glued to as you run faster than thought was possible have towards them. your father turns towards your voice in shock, the knife slicing through the king’s side in a clean movement, and the king falls.

“what are you doing?” your father snarls, the man by his feet forgotten as his attention turns to you. you spare stephen a glance, meeting his wide eyes, and you hope he can see the apology in yours. your father’s forward movement moves your attention to him, and you see him stalking towards you with his knife poised. “i am growing tired of your foolishness, you wretched girl.”

“if you want to kill someone, kill me. not him,” you plead, backing away from him. “he did not kill her, you know that. this, this delusion you are living under, it needs to stop!”

“do not speak of her to me,” you can see his anger rising, redness traveling up his neck. “you are a poor excuse of a woman compared to her. you know nothing. everything i have done, i have done for her, and i will kill you and the rest of them if i need to.”

you’ve heard your father recount his killing of countless adversaries, spoken in cold tones with no regret, but to see him with his weapon raised at you is something you had never imagined in all of your days. it was a truly terrifying sight.

he backs you into the same column you had been hiding behind earlier, a mirror image of the way he had cornered you in his bedchambers days ago. his free hand circles your neck, covering the bruises that he had left behind then, and your hands fly to his wrist.

“this will never free you,” you choke out, tears brimming in your eyes that make your vision blurry. this way, when you look at him, his features are so unfocused that he almost looks like he used to, when he was sane. kind. “do you not understand? this will not bring her back. you will be truly alone.”

“better to be alone than living with you as a reminder of what i have lost,” he says softly, the sharp blade of the knife pressed to your side, stinging as it nicks your skin.

you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. this was how it was going to end, no matter what. you, suffering from the result of his hands, his jolted mind. you, a mere ghost of your mother, biding your time in this world until he decided that you had none left. living a life that would never truly be your own.

no.

your eyes fly open and meet his and he hesitates, the knife pulling back the smallest bit. you take the chance, your hand moves from one of his wrists to the other and you twist, taking in a sharp breath when he gasps and lets the knife clatter to the floor. he lets go of your neck and you drop, grabbing the handle of the knife with a shaky hand and slashing upwards, hoping that it would land somewhere.

he drops to the floor with a howl of pain, clutching at his thigh, and in the next moment you’re on top of him, pinning him to the floor with a knee to his stomach. the knife is still in your hand, unmoving from how strongly your fingers were grasped around the handle. it would be so easy to plunge it into his chest, so simple. you would finally be free.

you barely register when several knights finally barge into the hall, swords pointed at the two of you. your focus was purely on the man under you, at the madness swimming in his eyes and the ugly curl of his mouth shaped in scowl.

“you will not do it. you are weak,” he wheezes out, confident even as he struggles to speak from your weight on him.

you raise the knife.

a moment of tense silence.

and felix calls out your name. the only voice that could break you away from the trance you were in. his lovely voice, shaped in your name.

when you meet his eyes you drop the knife, and you’re pushed away from your father when by knights who move to secure him in shackles. you stand on wobbly feet, taking in the hall - felix, hovering by your side, hands raised as if he wanted to touch you but couldn’t. chris, standing by his father’s side, supporting him as he rises from the floor. blood drips down his side, but not an alarming amount. he would be fine. your own father, cursing angrily at the guards who were keeping him restrained, his words passing through you with no recognition.

you’re sure you looked horrible, in this moment. hair a mess, chest still heaving, clothes torn. you didn’t belong here. you drop your father’s papers that you kept hidden in your clothing to the ground, watching them flutter before settling, face up for all to see.

“i will leave at first light,” is the last thing you say before leaving the king, the princes, and your father behind you.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

you didn’t look at your own reflection until the next morning. your face was a horrible painting of blues and blacks, and the bruises on your neck are fading into green, though you’re sure more were forming underneath them.

you look horrible.

you didn’t come with many things, and most of them were unnecessary for where you were about to go; traveling into the woods didn’t require fancy dresses and jewelry, so as you packed your bag you left them behind.

the last thing you expected was for felix to push the door to your chambers open, a noisier affair than you were used to from the way the door banged against the wall.

“you are still here,” he breathes out, panting a bit like he ran here. he eyes the bag you were holding warily.

“i am,” you answer, fear seeping into your veins as he moves closer to you. not of him, never of him, but of the power he held over you. of the way his words could break your heart into more fractures than it already was in.

“your father is in line for execution, at midday,” he informs, placing a hand on top of yours when he reaches you, his warm skin stinging the ice-cold skin of your own.

“good,” it’s the only thing you can think to say. the only reaction you can muster from learning that your father was about to die, like you had wished him to.

“chris told me what you asked him to do,” he says, voice low. “i did not stay long enough to hear the whole story, when he told me the other day. i came to you in anger, and i did not listen to you either. i am sorry.”

his voice wobbles in sorrow, and it breaks your heart.

“no, do not be,” you whisper, flipping your hand around so you could tangle your fingers with his. you wanted to feel him like this, at least one more time. “i should have been honest with you. when i chose to go against him, when i chose you, i should have told you.”

“you were scared,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “of him. and of us, i presume. i cannot fault you for that.”

“i was scared, but-” you cut yourself off, trying to find the right words. he waits for you patiently, eyes trained on your features. “since my mother died, my life has not been my own. i have not been allowed to make my own decisions, i don’t know how to…do this. that is no one’s fault but my own.”

“this?” he asks, velvet soft as he seeks for clarification.

“to be honest about things. to trust people with what’s going on. to…not be scared of people’s reactions,” even this show of candor was sending your heart into a frenzied pace. “i do not know how.”

“then let me teach you,” you can hear the tears in his voice but you don’t look up to meet them. you didn’t think you could handle it. selfish. “please. i do not know what you are planning to do - after, but please do not leave.”

“felix, i have never felt more free than i have here, in this kingdom, with your people. with your family,” you squeeze your fingers around his hand, the only thing you could bring yourself to do. “with you. you have already taught me so much. how do i continue to take and take from you like this?”

“you do not owe me anything,” he vows, bowing his head a bit. “anything i give to you, i give gladly. i act without thinking and i make rash decisions, too. do not think that i am not learning from you in turn. if it were not for jeongin finding me and explaining things to me yesterday, i would have done something horrid. i could have lost you, do you understand? you and i, we are not so different.”

jeongin. once this was all over, you were going to award that boy a house. or a village. whatever he wanted.

“did he do this to you?” he says when you don’t answer, raising one hand to the bruising around your neck and another to your cheek, feather-light fingertips tracing along the lines. “did he hurt you?”

“yes,” you breathe out, admitting for the first time to someone other than yourself what kind of man your father truly is. letting yourself accept that maybe, it was not your fault. that maybe, you deserved something better.

you stayed.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris meets the two of you outside your chambers hours later, looking more exhausted than you’ve seen him before. he takes in your linked hands with a smile.

“felix told you?” he asks, gentle. you nod, leaning into felix. “i am sorry, that i did not do more. that it came to that.”

“do not apologize,” you say, resolute. “if anyone should be sorry, it is me. for putting you all through this.”

“if anyone needs to apologize, it is your father,” felix swears, his grip on your hand tightening. “if he was not already on his way, i would kill him myself for hurting you.”

you squeeze his hand back, hoping the gesture would bring him some comfort. violence was not a color that you think shaded felix often, but you couldn’t deny that his protectiveness was attractive.

it is chris’ duty to oversee the affair, but you cannot bring yourself to accompany him. the thought of seeing your father again, restrained and awaiting death, was not something that you wished to experience.

felix stays with you, guiding you through the halls and into his bed, holding you tight the entire time. his presence by your side is overrides the myriad of negative emotions inside of you and for once, your mind is quiet, failing to remind you that you needing felix in this moment was self-serving. it’s as if the thoughts were dying along with your last-living relative.

you wished that you felt happy, relieved to be released from him. or even sorrow, full of grief for your lost father. but you felt nothing.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

chris enters felix’ chambers at dusk, waking you and felix from the sleep that neither of you intended to fall into.

“my father wishes to see you,” he addresses to you, waiting with leveled patience as the two of you slowly rise from the bed.

“is he angry?” your voice comes out as a whisper, betraying your anxiety.

“yes, but not at you,” he assures, settling a hand on your shoulder, his touch light. “do not worry.”

but you did worry, all throughout the walk to the king’s advisory chambers to when you enter the door, startling him out of whatever hushed conversation he was engaged in with his staff. when he looks at you he is angry, and you’re glad in that moment for christopher’s warning. you moved with more confidence than you truly had, chris and felix’ presence at your sides helping more than you cared to admit.

“you wanted to see me, sire?” you ask, your hands wringing together. felix takes one of them into his own, if only to stop your movements.

“i wanted to discuss things with you,” stephen waves off his advisors, waiting for them to leave the chambers before continuing. “regarding your father.”

“my father is dead,” you state plainly, moving forward until you were in front of the king. “i swear fealty to you, my lord.”

you slowly knelt at his feet, gasping in surprise when felix knelt by your side.

“whatever i can do to prove my loyalty, i will do it,” you assured, keeping your head down. normally, you would internally bristle at the thought of kneeling before a king like this, in an act of submission, but this time it was different. this time, it was your choice.

“you have proven your loyalty by going against your own kin, my child,” his voice was thick with emotion. “please, stand.”

you don’t, until felix does and pulls you along with him. you’re confused at his immediate acceptance of you, the daughter of a man who wished him such ill-will. you look at him and you’re sure he can see the puzzlement on your face.

“i did not ask for you here to make you prove yourself,” he explains, gesturing at the papers strewn about the table. your father’s notes. “i simply wished to thank you, for preventing such heinous acts from occurring. these notes…” he pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. “are unsettling. more were found in his chambers, detailing increasingly vicious flights of fancy.”

you would learn later that in your father’s notes were his plans for you, for once his own were executed. perhaps stephen felt pity for you as a result of what he saw. when you meet eyes with the king, any trace of anger is gone, replaced with a deep kind of sadness.

“thank you, for keeping my family safe at the sake of your own welfare. anything you wish for, i will grant it.”

your mind screams at you that you don’t deserve it, that you had put them in more harm than anything, that he doesn’t owe you any kindness.

“i wish for nothing that i do not already have,” you glance at felix, shooting him a small smile when you notice the pride gleaming on his face.

───•───•───✧𓆩⟡𓆪✧───•───•───

it takes less of jumping through diplomatic hoops than you would have expected to sign your kingdom over to stephen. the lands were adjacent to one another, so rearranging property lines was as simple as removing a single line from a parchment map. you learned that it was more common than you had originally thought to combine kingdoms, though usually it resulted from acts of war. you were queen for all of two days before officially resigning.

your father, for all his boasting, did not carry many alliances with other nations, and the ones he did have stephen was glad to cut off. your father’s knights did little more than grumble about having to change their colors, and the ones that refused to were promptly dismissed from service.

the castle that was once your home was a different case; you never wished to go back there, other than to gather the things that still held your mother’s touch. that place hasn’t been a home to you in a while, but you decided that it could be a home to someone.

it would take some time, but you had plans to turn the palace into an orphanage. a place where everyone and anyone could come and seek shelter, food and water, and company. it was the least you could do for your people, who had suffered under your blind eye for over a decade while you sat in your chambers, ignorant to all that was going on outside the palace walls.

the biggest relief was the weight of your kingdom off of your shoulders. maybe it was selfish to think that way, but you had never asked for that life. you knew your people were in better hands with stephen than they ever would have been with your bloodline, and you could think of no better successors than chris and roseanne.

you had your ladies in waiting brought from your old palace, but they did little more than help you dress. jeongin had become your formal assistant, but you considered him a friend and a confidant more than anything. you had offered him and his family whatever he wanted, now that the riches your father held were in your name, but he had refused. he simply asked for a new house in the lower village for his parents and siblings, but stated that he wished to remain in the castle.

you and felix decided to hold off on announcing a formal betrothal, deeming it wiser to let the kingdom that had nearly doubled in size settle first. you had not been together long, after all, and most of your time together was spent with you under a guise. you took the time to relearn each other, to memorize every miniscule detail of the other’s personality, your habits and your mannerisms and your preferences. despite your earlier reservations, propriety mattered little with the two of you; you spent even more time together than you did before, and you had all but moved into his chambers, only using yours when you wanted someplace quiet to think.

you don’t remember a time when you were happier than you were now. for the first time in your life, you looked toward the future with brightness.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee felix fluff #lee felix imagines #felix x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids hurt/comfort #lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n #lee felix fanfic #felix imagines

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circeyoru · 7 months

Text

The Spirit’s Favourite Human

[Human!Alastor x Spirit of the Forest!Reader]

Part 1 (here)

Part 2

It started with a one-sided meeting. Your home, which was an old willow tree, was threatened by a waste product of some hunters in your forest. It was going to burn your home! But then another man, a hunter since he was holding the same weapons the other hunters would, picked up the cigarette and extinguished it

That started your interest in him

As the trees and birds would tell you, he was a frequent visitor to the forest. With your tiny stature, you could watch him while staying out of sight. You never dared to follow him out of the forest, however, since it would put you in danger. Whenever he was in the forest, you’d shrink yourself and travel by bird to watch the man that you learned was Alastor

The trees and bird told you something bizarre, though. Alastor would bring other people into the forest and bury them. You confirmed it as you sensed the sorrowful souls’ bodies screaming in agony and pain before they were whisked away to Heaven or Hell. Your duty was only to watch over and protect the forest, so matters of life and death of the humans mattered not to you

You made a habit of pushing the bodies deeper into the Earth, they were good fertiliser for the trees and insects in the ground, so you weren’t going to say no to that. You thought of it as gifts from Alastor. You were a Spirit, so how could you understand that killing another human being was frowned upon? In nature, death was as normal as the cycle of night and day

Once, you were alerted by the trees that Alastor was visiting but in danger. The birds told you he was being chased by a pack of dogs with clothes. So they were special ones that were trained. Alastor was your saviour and had done good to the forest more times than you can keep track of, so you naturally went to help him

The wind was on your side as the birds quickly brought you to where Alastor was. Wound and tired, he tried to keep his distance from the dogs behind him. You intercepted, appearing in your normal size (still smaller than Alastor by a head and then some). You blew mist at the dogs, disrupting their sense of smell with heavy pollen, then you grabbed Alastor and went deeper into the forest, you knew this place like the back of your hand, so you got the perfect hiding spot

In the tree hole, the two of you stayed quiet while waiting for the coast to be cleared. After a few moments or so, the trees told you you were safe and the dogs had left. You got out and stretched a bit, not used to being cramped up. You watched curiously as Alastor fell out, holding his body with his hands. He’s hurt. You got close to him, ignoring his words and healed him with the forest’s help

When it was done, you nodded at your handy work. You froze when Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, he thanked you and introduced himself

But all your mind registered was human touch! Bad! A gush of wind blew at Alastor, making him shut his eyes and you were gone when he opened his eyes again. He looked at his hand, empty

Back with you, you tried your best to calm down. Human contract was something you never had, sure you acted as spirit guides to lead lost children out of the forest, but never had you had physical touch from one. Now that you think about it, you held Alastor first. Ohhh… This was your problem…

From that day onwards, you avoided Alastor like the plague, if you know what that was, and only received news from your bird friends and the trees. Like before, you’d still push those bodies down down down. The only difference was the following closely was gone

And Alastor felt that. He treasured this forest very much, because it was the perfect place for him to hide the bodies. He noticed that the previously buried bodies were buried deeper than humanly possible, and it was surely not his doing. What’s more was if he didn’t mark it down, he would have missed the burial spot, it was hidden perfectly

Now that he knew of your existence and powers over the forest, he knew it was you who watched him whenever he was in the forest and helped him with his body hiding from the dogs and police. You were his perfect accomplice and you didn’t even know

He wanted to get to know you, to meet you more formally and professionally. Maybe you could solve much more problems he has. Like the marriage proposal that fills his mailbox or creates an alibi in case people are suspicious of him. There was so much potential that could benefit him!

“Darling! Lady of the Forest!” Alastor shouted as he tried to get you to show yourself. He’d been trying to meet you since that day you rescued him, but you were nowhere to be found

He turned to more desperate and drastic measures, like putting himself in danger or appearing to be in a life or death situation to get you to act. You were saving him from dogs last time, so the same logic should do this time

It doesn’t

So he tried something else

Mimzy became the perfect piece of the puzzle. Her being all over him, too much for his comfort. But his efforts are bearing fruit as he felt your familiar stare, though with envy and malice now

You were beyond confused at the feeling you had. It was fiery and twisted, also foreign to you and not something you’ll feel usually. Then again this Alastor had been making you feel a lot more than what you’re used to

You literally teleported to where Alastor and the other human was when your friends of the forest told you the news. Oh how livid you were when you saw the other human all over Alastor

Were they enjoying their time together? The first is a lovely place for intimate moments. You have seen pairs come into the forest to do some questionable actions, but you just stay clear of the place

For some reason, Alastor and that human do the same made you want to order the wolves to devour that stupid human

But then you were destroyed by Alastor’s actions. A human dressed like her would not just go to this forest, he was the one that brought her here. So you backed away from the pair. Perhaps it was because you avoided him that he lost interest in you and picked someone of his race

No no no no no! Your stare was losing its intensity and ill will! Why? It was going so well too! He couldn’t help it and acted before anything, before your presence and stare were gone

Your eyes widened at the blood-curdling scream echoed. When you turned around, the human was lying down and crying, Alastor was stabbing a knife at her chest repeatedly while the blood pooled beneath them

You didn’t even realize you stepped in his line of sight until his eyes met yours. This hunter didn’t just hunt the creatures of the forest, he hunted the other faces of his race

There you were. Finally, in front of him again. It took him a while, but the wait was worth it, given your divine beauty. He’d go as far as to say you’re a goddess!

“My dearest, it has been a while.” He greeted with a smile as he ignored the body below him that was one of his closest friends

You opened your mouth, but then closed it. Though you understand human language, you couldn’t communicate in it

So you only nodded your head with a small smile. Telepathically, your honey-sweet voice echoed in his head, even with the distortion like an unresponsive radio, he understood, “Greetings to you as well, Alastor.”

Note: Experimenting on posting writings. Format might change in the future. cause this is the first time I've done this (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x y/n #The Spirit’s Favourite Human #human alastor #Circe's Nighty Writings

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/746523472745955328/does-cherrys-peter-still-have-ethan-if-so-how-is

I LOVE SHY CHERRY!! i need more shy cherry and how peter reassures her 😭😭 so cute

*cleaning out my drafts*

'go say hi, they won't bite.' you circle around peter's side to hide behind his shoulder as he tries to push you into the kitchen. 'they're going to sniff me out like a shark with blood in the water.'

'cherry.'

'i'm serious, peter. frat boys are not nice, i batted a thousand with you. they're gonna make fun of me.' peter frowns, 'they're nice. i promise no one's going to make fun of you. if they try, i'll kill 'em. how about that?'

you whine out his name, you've avoided them fairly well up until this point. peter said that if you were going to be spending all your free time here, which you have been, you needed to introduce yourself.

'hey, no one knows what's going on between us, okay? all they know is that you're my girl.' your eyes flit to the kitchen, you hear laughter and ignore the pang of anxiety it creates. 'does that mean they think we're having sex?'

peter's searching your face, he's not sure how you want him to answer it. he assumes truthfully. 'probably.' you smile wide and perk up. 'cool.'

chatter overflows from the open room, you're about to break up the conversation and have all the attention on you. no, you can't do it. it doesn't matter if they think you're a virgin or not. they're going to scrutinize you.

'i can't.' peter rolls his eyes, 'yes you can.' you dig your shoes into three floor, he'll be able to move you but it'll need some force. 'i can't. you know i'm shy.'

a token of sympathy is given. 'remember the first night you met me?' of course you do, it ended with you in a mere panic attack at the sight of his naked body. 'that wasn't the act of a shy person, that was someone who was brave.'

'i balked. and almost cried.' peter traces your bottom lip and tilts his head, you can feel his heart eyes on you. 'but then you doubled down and asked if i would be willing to take your virginity.'

you did do that, didn't you? 'i had nothing else to lose, the second you gave me my shirt it was social suicide.' peter ignores how you minimize yourself, he doesn’t think you’re shy and it makes you feel a little more secure. ‘you could’ve ran, but you didn’t. if you could do that, i promise you can do this.’

you’re doing it for him and his belief in you.

'alright, fine.' you stare at the entryway and nod once before looking at peter. 'kiss of confidence?' you’re granted with one before taking a bold step forward and immediately stopping.

'you need to go first. make sure they don't stare at me.' you're hiding behind him again, peter reaches his hand back to hold yours and you feel a little more comfortable.

'ready?' you're already walking with him and holding your breath, you're able to squeak out a no before you're in the thick of it. 'what's up, parker?'

peter smiles and makes small talk, you peek an eye open and look around him. only one person is looking at you, you shrink back down behind peter.

'i'm ethan, your boy's best friend.' you swallow hard, he crossed all the way over the kitchen to stick his hand out. peter squeezed the one in his hold, he's telling you it's okay.

you slide away to gently shake his hand and softly greet him. the second you let out a tense breath the whole crowd says hi to you. you try to hide behind peter, he doesn't let you.

you grit your teeth into a friendly grin and feel everyone staring at you. 'hi. nice to meet you.' it's polite and you pray it's enough, you nudge peter's arm to tuck yourself underneath it.

you need his touch or you'll start crying.

‘peter,’ you speak his name under your breath, you don’t want anyone else to be aware of your anxiety and how childish it may seem. ‘please.’

peter’s best friend tucks a straw between his left molars and gnaws while directing more attention your way. ‘so, cherry, what’s the story behind the name?’ your eyes are wide, your cheeks feel hot as you point a finger at peter and sputter out 'he started it.'

his lips twitch with a smile, he's got a certain look in his eye that only you could understand. you're both replaying the memory, he could share it but he likes that it's between you and him only.

'it's an inside joke.' you nod your head in agreement and try to get under his arm again, you feel your nerves turn into frustration and demand his attention while someone is talking about next sunday's dinner.

harshly tugging at his shirt, you speak stern and slowly like you would to a child. 'peter. i am not playing around, let me in.' you were louder than you thought you'd be, ethan being one of the three brothers who 'oo' at him.

peter's amused, lifting his arm up so you can wrap your arms around his waist and hide your face in his side. 'don't let her fool you, this is all an act. did you see how she just talked to me?'

your hold tightens. he knows how anxious you are over being shy and he's brushing the attention away from you. you'll give him a big kiss the second you're alone.

'it's about time someone put you in your place, parker.'

'can she do the same thing but with tarrent and banana bread?'

another guy does a series of woofs and barks, you hide a snort in peter's shirt. 'wow. thanks guys, nothing like some positive reinforcement for being verbally assaulted.'

you pull away from him with a gasp, you forget you're in a room of frat boys for a second. 'i was not verbally assaulting you! i was being stern because you were teasing me.'

'yeah, parker, you’re a dick.'

'oh god, parker you're such a tease.'

'stern him some more, cherry!'

peter gladly accepts any shot his friends throw at him because you're standing tall with a proud grin. 'see? they already like you more than me.'

ethan claps his hands, 'yes! now bully him some more.'

#the virgin files #frat!peterxvirgin!reader

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

hellooooooo, could you please make (when you have the time) something where James Potter has a girlfriend that its sooo touch starved but also has a hard time being touched/hugged (for some reason kissing doesn't bother her but she gets really shy with that) an she is unable to receive compliments, she tries to express her love in other ways tho

i'm that type of person so i would love to see something like that:(

Ugh same baby! Thanks for requesting :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You and James are on opposite sides of the couch, and you feel like you’re going to combust.

The issue is his foot. You’re covered by a blanket, but James’ foot is brushing your calf through the fabric, moving back and forth so slowly you wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it. And it’s not not nice, but even that tiny bit of contact (again, through a blanket) is almost too much for you. Every nerve in your body is at attention—you don’t think James could breathe in your direction without you noticing it—and you want him to cover your entire body with his even if it’ll probably kill you.

“You doing alright over there, lovely?” James asks, eyes still on the TV. He must be paying more attention than you realize.

And one of the difficult parts of your relationship with James is that there are some parts of you he simply cannot understand, but that won’t stop him from trying. Like, James is a naturally tactile person. He wants to hug and kiss and love on you all day long, as he made abundantly clear from your very first date. But you’re not. You want to be, you want to let him give you all the affection he has to offer and return it with twice the zeal, but no one touched you like this before him. Your family weren’t the physically affectionate type, and your friends didn’t bother with it around you, so James’ particular brand of overly touchy loving was…new. You crave it and yet when he gives it to you it feels foreign and borderline uncomfortable. You’d done your best to explain it to him, and James had taken it all in stride, though you could tell there was some mixture of pity and bafflement at your odd love/hate relationship with physical closeness. Now, he does his best to give you that particular form of affection in small doses. He checks with you before putting his hands on you, hugs you just until your blush gives you away, and restricts his casual contact with you to chaste areas. Like his foot and your calf.

“Mhm,” you reply, unsure how to explain the effect he’s having on you and unwilling to say anything that’ll make him stop.

Narrowed brown eyes move from the TV screen to your face. “Promise?”

“I’m okay.”

“Something’s bothering you, though.”

You hesitate. You don’t want to lie to him, it’s just that it’s more complicated than that. “Not really.”

“And you’re not really avoiding the question, right?” James grins at you, though it’s tinged with worry. “C’mon, angel, be straight with me. Something’s on your mind, yeah?”

You’re silent, but an involuntary glance downwards gives you away. James’ foot is drawn back towards him in an instant. “Ah, that was too much, huh? My bad.”

“No, James, I—” you sigh heavily. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, lovely girl,” he says it easily, but not without gravity. “I’m the one who didn’t check if it was okay.”

“But you shouldn’t have to check.” You’re shaking your head, drawing your legs into your chest, shrinking from him even in your frustration that you shrink from him. “I don’t want you to feel bad about touching me, James. It’s not like it scares me or anything, I don’t know why I’m so weird about it.”

“Hey.” His voice is lightly chiding, remonstrance gentled. He’s not touching you, but he’s doing his next best thing, turning his body to face you so you’ll know you have his full attention. “I know, you’ve told me how you feel about it. I don’t take it personally, sweetheart, I just want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to be scared to not be having a good time.”

You let the quiet noise of the TV fill the silence for a moment, looking at him. He’s smiling just a tiny bit, even now. He told you once that he can’t help being some degree of happy when he’s with you, no matter what’s happening around him. His eyes are big and brown and open behind his glasses, eyes that haven’t learned to dull themselves for the sake of self-preservation, but there’s a slight pinch around the corners. He’s evaluating you, trying to figure out where your mind is going and how to meet it there.

“I think my problem,” you say, trying the weight of each word before voicing it, “is that I want you to be able to show…affection, whatever way is natural to you.” A crease appears on James’ forehead and you can see the rebuttal forming on his tongue, but he lets you say your piece. “And it makes me feel bad that I’m stopping you from doing that, and that I can’t show it back to you either.”

The crease deepens. James has an easier time choosing his words than you did. “I don’t mind not being able to touch you. I mean, would I have my hands all over you day and night if you wanted it?” He flashes a flirty smile. “Obviously. But I care about you, not that, and you aren’t as used to that stuff. The idea of touching you is as unappealing to me as I imagine it is to you, because you’d be uncomfortable the whole time. What kind of boyfriend would I be then, huh?” He sticks out a foot to nudge your knee gently. “Anyway, I don’t need you to be all over me to know you care. You think I thought the muffins I ate this morning made themselves?” He raises his eyebrows at you, nodding for you to answer.

Your face warms. “No.”

James nods encouragingly. “As I suspected. And that was some of the best love I’ve ever tasted! Plus, those little notes you write when you’re going to be home late or you know I have a busy day? Angel,” he says, voice dropping into soft earnestness, “those make my entire week.”

You bite your lip, but you’re powerless to stop the spread of your smile. “I’m glad you like them,” you reply bashfully.

“Like them?” James throws up his arms, indignant. “Sweetheart, I can feel the love coming off those things like you’ve drowned them in amortentia. Don’t get me wrong, I love hugging you, but that?” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing better.”

You imagine your complexion is approaching fire-hydrant red about now, but you’re so happy to hardly care. “Thanks, Jamie.”

“Thank you, angel,” he says, and you can tell he’s smothering his grin intentionally to make you take him seriously. “I mean it, I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re my best girl, understand?”

You can’t look at him for embarrassment, but you nod. After a moment, James’ silence draws your eyes back to him, to find him grinning. The sight is familiar, as is the warm, fuzzy sensation that spreads through your insides. His eyes narrow slightly, assessing you.

“Do you feel like a hug, lovely girl?”

You nod again as you go to him, abandoning your blanket. James’ arms open, his legs parting automatically to slot you between them. One hand finds your mid-back while the other cradles the nape of your neck, and you press both of yours to his shoulder blades, drawing him downwards and into you. He makes the most of it, fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt. You can feel his heartbeat a few inches to the right of yours.

A tiny shiver of pleasure goes through you, and you tighten your grip on him so he won’t let go, but James understands, and pulls you closer.

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metalotaku-da · 1 year

Text

Dcxdp Danny phantom and klarion are friends.

Danny as the ghost king who loves to prank loves teaching a younger appearance klarion all kinds of fun gags and tricks of magical nature. It's like the younger sibling he always wanted. And is a nice break from some of his royal duties. But things have been a little busier than usual they haven't gotten to really get out and have fun. Danny is 30 looks 20. Klarion is looking 14. But in the thousands for age.

Klarion is bored and upset. He wants time with Danny to himself. No interruption from clockwork or the eternal. Other ghosts. No one. It's not fair. He needs a plan to sneak Danny out of the infinite realm, hide him and not be the fall guy when they get caught. Because it's clockwork they will be caught it's the when. He needs someone else to do the summoning work. But who and how.

He lands on John Constantine. Clockwork doesn't like him much. And Danny inherited all the old kings claims. So he be able use that if things got dicey. And klarion is not a fan either of the jerk. To buddy buddy with nabou. So he has a fall guy to blame for the summoning. Just needs to setup a prank so good that John thinks he has no choice but to summon someone who could destroy the world.

Takes him a week to land on act like I'm gonna do it so he has to first. Easy. And he can brag to a bunch of villains to really drive the urgency. Perfect.

Plan worked like a charm. Maybe to good though. John got a bunch of heroes to help. No good no good. John is lieing to his super jerk friends. Klarion can see the seal. It will make Danny weaker and lock him to the jerk like a dog on a leash. Not to the artifact he said they could lock him away with. He's gotta fix this quick. He drops in the pawns he recruited to distract. While discreetly changing the ruin on the summoning without mucking it up so it doesn't work. All while fighting zantana, and racing the circle lighting up.

The summoning is completed. But something obviously went very very wrong. Klarion has teakle distract zantana while he goes over the summoning again to see what he shifted. Oopsie. The ruin for shrinking power turned to shrinking age. But thats ok. It can be fixed later. Maybe. Probably. He didn't get the teather changed before it set. But that's an easy fix by killing Constantine. But his friend is here. And now they can really play. So it's all good. Klarion is ecstatic. So much so teakle runs to him as he shrinks causing one of the supers to over swing on an attack on his familiar.

But Danny needs a minute. As he blinks wearily on his feet. Rubbing at his face. Ugh summoning. He hates summoning. And this had to be a strong one. Because he couldn't resist like most of them. Whatever once the brain fog clears he'll be good and can really give the jerks who did a real stern talking to. Or maybe he'll scare them. That sounds better. Standing infront of him is a blonde man looking like a dirty drunk cop dective from TV. Who is gapping at him as a cigarette burns on the ground at his feet. This guy has to be like a gaint too cause Danny has to really crane his head back to look up at his face. There is a bunch of commotion going on but he's to focuses on this weird feeling he has towards this weirdo. Who seems like he's confused. Maybe it was an accident. Whatever. Danny still isn't happy. He puts his hands on his hips. "Hey jerk face! What do you think your doing?" Then Danny's eyes went wide. "Oh by the ancients is that my voice! What's wrong with my voice!" Danny now clutched his throat before waving his arms wildly at the creepy man. "What did you to me you weirdo! I sound like a baby!"

"It a bloody fucking child."

"It's bad to cuss infront of kids Constantine." Someone else says outside the circle.

Danny's head snaps their direction. Danny's eyes widen as he puts his hand into view looking at himself panic taking over and he looks around at all these tall people looking at him or fighting. He opens his mouth to scream in fear or frustration he doesn't know till he hears a voice he recognizes.

"Don't wail, don't wail!" Danny closes his mouth and looks around for the source.

"Klarion?"

"Sorry my bad. I messed up change the circle so it wouldn't weaken you. And well oopsie " klarion rushed into the circle hugging little Danny tight. "But you are here. So now we can play." Klarion gasped as he pulled back from Danny. "I can be the big brother now!"

"Noooooo, klarion I was already a little brother. I wanted to be a big brother more." Danny whined. His white hair flopping over as he rolled his head in complaint.

"To bad. I'm the big brother now. We are gonna have so much fun. You just have to get rid of this looser so we can go do our thing." Klarion gestured towards Constantine.

#fanfic #danny phantom #klarion #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #de aging #john constantine

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aritsukemo · 4 months

Text

Your heart's too big for your body.. | Muichiro and Yuichiro Tokito

Warnings: Mentions of the reader throwing up in Yuichiro's part! All my emetophobic folks beware!!

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is lmao- I planned a completely different set of characters when I wrote this but as I was listening to Melanie Martinez's Crybaby album, I guess my mind just went to two characters who bring me a bunch of comfort. Like, as I listened, I felt kinda sad so my mind just imagined a bunch of scenarios with these two comforting someone.. ( Also, in case anyone's confused. Muichiro's part is set in a more modern au like the Kimetsu Academy au, Yuichiro's isn't )

"What the fuck," Is the first thing the teal-streaked medic mumbled when you stumbled into the Butterfly Manor half conscious, blood dripping from your head. and your hand poorly covering your stomach which had a horrifyingly-large gash on the center of it.

"T- Tokito.." You called, although you could barely get the words out before you tilted. Luckily, Yuichiro caught you in time before you completely hit the floor.

As your head hit his shoulder, a quick wave of panic shot through him. After all, it wasn't often that a Hashira—especially one of your caliber—to come in this wounded, or wounded at all for that matter.

As he helped you to your feet, Yuichiro threw your arm over his shoulder, ignoring your blood that had quickly begun to stain his clothes, and called for some assistance before guiding you to the nearest patient room and sitting you down on the bed where you immediately flopped over.

"Shit," He cursed out, finally noticing how bad of a state you had gotten yourself in. You showed obvious signs of having a concussion—a severe one at that. But he had little time to focus on that before you began choking.

With quick movements, Yuichiro helped you sit up only for you to immediately fall forward and cough up your stomach, staining the bottom half of his clothes with your blood and what was most likely your breakfast, shit.

It was only then that the Kakushi had rushed in, staring at the sight in surprised horror only to finally rush to your side after Yuichiro shouts at them to unbutton your uniform vest and press down on your stomach wound while he prepared the bandages...

When you finally awoke, you were experiencing one of the worst headaches of your life. The Kakushi had long been sent off, but Yuichiro was still there. Towering over you, scrutinizing you.

"How are you feeling?" Was the first thing he said. It came out in a rushed, whispered tone of voice instead of his usual vexed one.

"My head hurts.." You mumbled in which he hums and mumbles something involving Shinobu and medication under his breath. Although, it was hard to really concentrate on his mumbling when your head felt like it was being split open and the strong taste of metal was lingering on your tongue..

"So what happened while you were out?" Surely you had run into one of the Twelve. Logically speaking, there would be no other way for you to obtain such injuries. Unless you somehow tripped into a bear's mouth or something on your way home. Although he hopes that isn't the case. You were an idiot, but hopefully not that stupidly clumsy.

Your eyes drifted to your hands subconsciously, an expression of which the medic could only think was embarrassment slowly forming on your face.

"It was my fault," You began, and Yuichiro was already furrowing his brows, "I underestimated my opponent and nearly got another slayer killed as a result.."

"There was another demon slayer there?" His voice suddenly grew low as hed muttered his next words with poorly masked dread, "..What happened to them?"

"They..ran away," Wait..what?

"They did..what?" The sudden sharpness of his tone has you wanting to shrink away from him, "Say it again. I want to hear it. Now."

"There.. There were multiple slayers.. One of them attempted to help out, but in the end..when I was pushed back.." You pause, looking for the right words to your next sentence that wouldn't shove the truth of what happened in your face. The disheartening truth that makes your chest tighten and your heart sting. The truth that your comrades had left you to die, "I awoken and my comrades..had all..retreated to safety."

"So, they left you to die," You wince. The way he always worded things always sounded so painful to hear. It squeezed at your heart in a way that made your eyes sting and your throat tighten, but you try to brush it off as best you can.

"No, they just—"

"Decided to save their own worthless asses as soon as the fight didn't go their way and left you to clean up the mess?" As his anger grew, so did his voice, "No way you slice this will make the truth any less apparent that they left you for dead!"

"How many times have I told you about this? You need to understand that most people only care about keeping themselves happy and alive and don't care who dies at the expense of that! Not you, or me, or anyone else!" He's right. Both of you are aware of that and as a result, silence replaces any words that would've been spoken after that—well, that and the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes because of the intense stinging..

You raise you hand, your eye instinctively closing as you wipe at your eye, your tears smear as a result, but you could care less. As long as it got rid of them.

At some point, the silence was broken with the sharp sigh that slipped from Yuichiro's soft lips. He shuffles closer before leaning down where the coldness of his thumbs comes in contact with the warm skin just under your eye. They capture the tears that manage to escape and gently flicks them away.

"You shouldn't waste your tears. Not on them, and certainly not on me.." He tells you, but it only makes you want to cry harder—which you ended up doing.

"I'm.. I'm sorry..*hic*.. I.. I.." You couldn't even get your words out from how much you were choking. This was so embarrassing and you wished you could just crawl in the hole and never come out of it..

But you can't. So you'll just have to make do with Yuichiro caging his arms around you as you sobbed instead.

"Thank you for coming," You told him, intending for it to sound more like an happy and excited little kid than a heartbroken and dissapointed adult. He looks around, streamers and banners decorate the walls, rounded tables and chairs were dressed down in various colored flowers and other assortments—all of which were mixed and matched in your favorite colors—and a beautiful multi-tiered cake sitting in the middle of a long rectangular table in the back of the room—the cake's decor trailing down the layers and onto the table where it then hangs off the wood, like hanging wisteria trees..

Not a soul in sight.

It was confusing to him. He vividly remembers the long nights with you, both of you up at ungodly hours, dressed down in your pajamas. He remembers being on the phone with you, staring intently at the slumped beds that had begun to slowly form under your bottom lashes and the faded look of drowsiness on your drooping face. He remembers your hands, tiny cuts of all shapes and sizes dented in your skin from the many slip ups and paper attacks that happened that night and previous night. He remembers the afternoons slowly turning to evenings and then nights and he remembers you working nonstop on your invitation cards. Each were just a tad bit different, some of the handmade decorations being different sizes and beautified certain ways to mask the small but noticeable mistakes you made on some of them. He remembers how proud you looked everytime you finished a card, showing him while flashing the widest grin he's ever seen from you. He remembers how pretty each card looked..

Why didn't anyone show up?

"I suppose everyone was busy today," You said, but he couldn't tell if you were trying to answer the silent question in the air or trying to tell yourself that to make yourself feel better, "I knew I should've waited til' the weekend.."

"Why.. Where is.." He didn't know what to say. You were pretty well known throughout school, everyone loved you or so it seemed. Why is he the only one here?

"Y'know, when I first started passing out the cards, most people told me that they probably couldn't make it. It made me a little sad, but then I was asked if I could help them out.." You told him. He hated the look in your eyes as you said it, "Heh..I ran all over the place running errands for all those people..they said that because of me they'll have enough time to at least stop by and drop off their gifts.." You began to walk, your shoes dragging against the wooden flooring of your living room, Muichiro cringed at the screaking sound it made.

"I did all of that..and no one showed. I waited all day.." Your voice was so shaky and fragile, like a mirror slowly cracking. It felt like the shards of glass were slowly falling off and shoved down his throat.

Then your voice suddenly raised, "But it's okay!" You said, "It's okay," You repeated, "That just means there's more cake for the two of us to enjoy!" You stop right infront of the large cake, your head rolling to look back at him. His own mirror began to slowly crack as his teal eyes met your teary ones and you flashed him a smile, one thinned out instead of the usual full, bright one you always blessed him with.

It was heartbreaking. It made him want to cry. And he did. He didn't realize it, but the tears had begun to slide down his cheeks one after another..

"I'm..so sorry," He said as if he wasn't the only one standing here before you, "..I'm so sorry, Y/n.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's okay, Mui. Don't feel bad. I'm okay.." You croaked, watching with your bottom lip shaking as he neared you. Biting down on the skin when he enveloped you and his sobs filled your ears.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm..I.." With a loud hiccup to signal that the dam has broke, you fell apart completely. Body trembling as you leaned into his shoulder, mumbling words of reassurances over and over like a damaged record.

"I'm..fine.. I'm okay.. No need to cry.." You said, but your words comforted neither him or you—if anything, it only made your tears come out in quicker, thicker clumps, completely ruining the little makeup look you had spent an embarrassing amount of time doing.

At some point, you two hit the floor. Neither of you noticed it, but you were curled up in each others arms on the cold, lonely floor. Tears wetting each others' sleeves. It was a mortifying sight. If anyone walked in, there's a chance you'd both be made fun of for being such crybabies over a simple birthday party gone wrong.

But you never left his embarace and he never left yours. You both sat there, tangled in that messy embrace and sobbing, heavy feelings weighing in both of your hearts.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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korinpie · 2 months

Note

Hii, how you doing?

Could I request headcanons about Fade being jealous?

Thank you 🖤

♡fade and reyna jealousy headcanons♡

♡thank you for the request! since you didn't specify the gender, ill make the reader gender neutral. and since this is the first ever request, i threw in our favorite girlie reyna for fun. again, thank you sooo much! let me know if anyone would like a part two with other characters♡

♡cw: mentions of alcohol and one use of they/them pronouns in reyna's part♡

♡word count: 1350 in total♡

I begin by prefacing this: Fade is SO insecure

She is convinced that you're an actual angel sent down from heaven, one that's somehow taken interest in her and graced her with your love

Pretty much thinks you're way too good for her

I mean she has murdered countless people and resurfaced trauma in several agents thinking they killed her friend

So the fact that anyone especially you would like her makes her feel like she doesn't deserve it

You and her are at a street market when she leaves to go to the bathroom. But when she comes back, she finds someone else in her place- hooking an arm around yours

When someone is flirting with her beloved, she gets pretty damn uncomfortable

The response is either "wtf they're flirting with my partner!" or "im going to kill them"

Will probably shift from one foot to another wondering what to do

She's not very good at socializing, being more of a 'fight now, talk later' person

And the more the person comes closer to you and talks dirty, she genuinely considers sicing her prowler on whoever decided flirt with you

But no: it's not right to attack someone just like that

Also it's broad daylight, and she would get caught

But she can't just do nothing, considering your anxious expression

Instead, she walks up to whoever's bothering you, attempting to be as stoic as possible(she wants to die on the inside)

"Ahem- excuse me," Fade interrupts the stranger's tangent of pick up lines. Said stranger stops, looking nervous as Fade stands in between you and the random person.

"Hi there," The stranger smiles tightly. "Sorry, I was just talking to my- um- dear friend here. Nothing to worry about."

Fade looks at the stranger coldly, before glancing over at you. Her cat-like eyes soften upon seeing you, her lips involuntarily lifting into a smile. She rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Do you know this person?"

You shake your head no, leaning away from the stranger. That's all Fade needs to know as she turns back to the unknown person- glaring at them with an intensity that could bring a hundred men to their knees.

"Hey, hey now," The stranger grimaces, stepping back a bit. He sweats at Fade's not-so-happy expression. "I'm just shooting my shot, ok? Can't help it."

Fade scoffs, reaching up to pinch the skin between her eyebrows. This conversation has gone on far too long.

"Don't worry, I'll back off if you need me to! I get it, friends supporting friends, d-"

"This is my significant other."

The stranger pales and their eyes widen cartoonishly large. You gawk, shuffling over to Fade to whisper: "How did they not...?"

"Kingdom be damned if I know," Fade mutters. She looks at the stranger, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "Leave. And next time you see us, don't even look in my partner's direction. If you do, you'll regret it."

The stranger squeaks and scurries away, metaphorical tail between their legs. Fade sighs, her shoulders beginning to relax. She's relieved that she doesn't have to be such an uncomfortable conversation anymore. Then, she turns to you, her expression tense and focused.

"You ok?"

You pause, albeit a little hesitant. Fade notices the way you sort of shrink, making her frown. “Yeah. Can we go back home now?”

Fade places a comforting hand on your cheek, betraying her rough exterior. “Of course.”

Despite the fact that she already asked, Fade continues to check on you, making sure that you're doing alright physically and mentally

It's her own way of showing she cares, since she's not that great at just telling you

When both of you are safe, back at home, you notice her still tense demeanor

She’s still worried about the incident of course- thoughts swirling around in her mind

Fade can't imagine why you've chosen to stay with her all this time, in her mind

You're just so...bright and warm to her, like sunshine

She truly believes she doesn't deserve you

And what if you leave her for someone else? What if she's left alone again?

She's still at heart just a girl who really loves her partner

Fade needs a little bit of love and reassurance- something to show her that you won't just up and leave her

The two of you end up cuddled up on the couch, blankets covering both of you and your head laying on Fade's shoulder

You're watching a crappy movie from the 80s <3

Reyna doesn't exactly get jealous, per say

She knows that you love her and cherish her more than anything- so she doesn't feel like someone's going to sweep you away

Besides, what kind of person would choose someone else over Reyna?

Someone probably very dumb and stupid that's who

Rather than be jealous, Reyna just really doesn't like people touching her s/o

It feels wrong, sort of like a stranger in her territory, as possessive as it sounds(but she is pretty possessive honestly)

Especially if the stranger knows that you two are dating, it feels like a bratty jab against her

When in reality it's more or less a friendly gesture

The agents are having a celebration party, and Chamber with his ever-flowing money brought drinks for everyone

Thus a problem arises- a chaotic party with drunk agents and radiants

While you're partying away, Reyna sits in the corner relaxing on a couch. She chats with one or two agents and nurses a cup of tequila, because who is she to pass on free alcohol?

The entire time she steals glances at you, either to make sure you're ok or just stare shamelessly at your figure

Meanwhile, your friend Jett is flat-out wasted

When she's drunk, she tends to be pretty clingy- so while you offer to take her to her room, Jett slings an arm around your shoulders and holds on to your arm, laughs and giggles slipping out from her

Reyna is not very happy about that

On one hand, you can take care of yourself. On the other hand, someone is touching her partner and she will not stand for it

She downs the rest of her tequila and approaches the two of you

"Reyna," You say as Reyna comes over. "Hi- I'm just taking Jett to her room."

"I don't want to go!" Jett giggles, clinging to your arm tightly. She's clearly drunk, pink-cheeked and all.

Reyna scoffs. "And you couldn't let someone else do it?"

"I'm the only one who offered! I don't want her passed out on the ground."

Reyna proceeds to grab Jett, roughly pulling her away from you. Jett whines in response, looking up at Reyna. "Hey! That hurt!"

She rolls her eyes, glaring down at her drunk companion. "Don't touch my partner. They're mine."

Jett grins, clearly not getting the memo. You sigh- Reyna, possessive as always.

"Reyna," You say, tapping your lover's shoulder.

She looks over, lips curled in a smug smile. "Yes, cariño?"

"If you're not gonna let me touch her, at least bring Jett to her room. She needs the rest," You explain.

Reyna's deep purple eyes narrow, and she spits out: "You can call someone else. I'm not carrying her after what she did."

"And what did she do?"

"Touch what is mine," She replies, hmphing. Her gaze drifts to the side, not looking at you.

You laugh at her antics, taking a hold of her arm. "Reyna, she's drunk and likes hugs. I promise she wasn't trying to flirt with me."

Reyna looks down at Jett, who's drunkenly spaced out. "We'll see about that."

"Can you please take Jett to her room? For me?" You ask Reyna, eyelids fluttering. Your hand grips her arm tighter, and she relents.

"Fine," Reyna says, placing a swift kiss on your temple before roughly dragging Jett out of the room. "I expect something nice for this."

"More kisses?" You offer, tilting your head to the side.

"Whatever you decide, cariño."

After she not-so-gently puts Jett to bed, she sits in your room

It's sort of like a dog waiting for its owner, except the dog is a gun-wielding mexican fighting machine

Once you enter, Reyna grumbles something about being late and pulls you in, laying you both down on the mattress

She expects many kisses. Deliver if you will

#valorant x reader #korin reads #fade x reader #valorant fade x reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant imagines #valorant reyna x reader #reyna x reader

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alloftheimagines · 1 year

Text

joel miller | the cure

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 3.5k

warnings: episode nine spoilers, canon level violence, probably incorrect medical stuff, joel murdering a bunch of people but in a sexy way, angst, she/her!reader

prompts: reader swaps places with Ellie (either as the one who’s immune or maybe they both are but Ellie isn’t put in that situation with the hospital), and reader is the one Joel rescues.

I’d love to request 13 and 70 from the prompt list you reblogged, with Joel Miller please! I adore your writing ❤️

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl

When Joel wakes in the hospital alone, he knows something is wrong. The last he remembers is you and Ellie at his side as you searched for a way into the hospital, Ellie reading her puns aloud while you rolled your eyes and tried (failed) not to laugh.

He sits up quickly, heart pounding against his rib cage. He feels like sand is falling through his fingers, grain by grain. He’s woken up and lost something again, and this time you aren’t here to tell him it was just a dream. It’s real now, and the harder he clutches, the quicker he loses his grip.

As he stands on wobbly feet, the door creaks open. Ellie appears, and a kernel of relief drops to his stomach. Just one, but it’s enough to ground him for a minute.

And then he sees her red-rimmed eyes and pale face, and the kernel explodes, raining down more panic. You’re not with her. Where are you?

“Ellie?” he whispers, pulling her in by the shoulder and checking her body for any injuries.

Her throat bobs. “They took her. They took her to surgery, Joel, but they wouldn’t take me. I think… I think something is wrong. I think—”

“You’re awake.” Marlene steps through the door with a pleasant smile, and Ellie’s voice fades quickly. “Sorry we had to knock you out. They didn’t know who you were, not until they brought you in.”

“Where is she?” Joel asks, his voice steady and low, like gravel crunching under heavy boots.

Marlene slips her hands into her pockets, and there is something, a quick flash, in her dark eyes that Joel is too worried to miss. She’s good at blinking it away, but it’s too late. He saw.

“She’s already in surgery.” With a sigh, she pulls Joel and Ellie’s belongings from the table and hands them over. “You did a good job getting them here, Joel. So good we decided it wouldn’t be right to operate on Ellie, too. Not until we know for sure their immunity can help with the cure.”

Joel’s eyes narrow, his fingers curling into fists at his side. He grabs the bags roughly, all too aware of the way Ellie is shrinking into his side as though afraid. “So how long will it take? When can I see her?”

Pressing her lips together, Marlene’s wary glance passes between Ellie and Joel. “To test for a cure, we need to take the cordyceps from the host’s body. Do you understand what that means?”

He doesn’t, not at first. Not until he thinks of all the things he’s been told about the illness over the years. The way you spoke about it when you told him you couldn’t get sick and how the Fireflies believed a rare fungal infection you battled as an infant, years before the outbreak, left you immune to cordyceps. Because that infection altered your body’s immune system, and…

And the way fungal infections are recognised by your brain.

“Cordyceps…” He feels dizzy. Sick. “Cordyceps infect the brain. Removing it…”

Removing it would mean removing you.

Killing you.

Marlene nods, sympathy softening her features. Fuck her sympathy, Joel thinks as his blood begins to boil, bones stiffening with that protectiveness he’s always let consume him when it comes to the few people he loves.

He lurches forward on that primal instinct alone, because there is no way in hell he can let you die. “You’ll kill her!”

Guards filter into the room immediately, shoving Joel so the backs of his knees knock against the bed.

Ellie is trembling beside him. “Did you even fucking tell her?” she yells. “Does she know that she’s going to die on that fucking operating table, you piece of shit?”

“I’m sure she’d choose it this way,” Marlene snaps. “You’re the alternative, and we weren’t going to make a fourteen-year-old a martyr. Not if we don’t have to.”

“Martyrs choose to be martyrs!” Joel’s voice bellows like thunder through the room as he struggles against the armed guards. “You had me bring her here to fucking kill her!” The words shatter against the wall like ceramic as he realises the twisted truth of them.

He hauled you and Ellie across the fucking country… for this. To have you laid out like an animal and experimented on. Killed. You’d never shown any hint that you thought this was how it would end. You’d talked about going back to Tommy’s after all this was over, getting a house for all three of you. Your face lit up when you told Ellie she’d have her own room, and you’d glanced at him with both a question and a promise glinting in your eyes because you both knew. There was more to this now than when you’d begun as frosty acquaintances stuck on the same path. You’d gotten close, spent freezing evenings huddled by the fire and drinking whiskey from Joel’s flask. You’d saved his life more times than he could count and vice versa.

He’d torn down his armour for you despite his better judgement, because he couldn’t help but fall for you even if you were too damn young and pretty for him. Even if he was certain he was no good for you.

This morning he’d woken beside you, bathed in your light and warmth, and he’d been certain something had changed. That all the pain he’d experienced in his life finally had a reason and he could let it go, start fresh. Be yours rather than lost and bitter and alone. His cheeks had ached because he’d smiled and smiled and smiled, every time you spoke, every time you looked at him.

They can't just take that away. Not for a cure that might not even come to work. Not for anything. Damn it, he hasn’t come this far to lose you now.

“I’m giving you the option to leave,” Marlene says. “To get out of here and take the kid with you. You get to keep her safe because Y/N took her place. So let it go, Joel. Leave now, calmly, and let us do the rest. We could have a cure in a year’s time, maybe two. Do you understand that? All of this could be over soon.”

He knows better than to believe that after all he’s seen. It was never the infection that was the problem. It was humanity — and the absence of it when civilisation deteriorated. It was the Davids of the worlds, it was Fedra, it was murder and fascism and blood and sacrifice and ruin.

And why the hell should you have to die for a world that never gave you a damn thing? You, who still knows how to love and go gently, protect and fight for what matters? Why should he have to lose the one good thing he's known in this life?

The answer is simple: he shouldn’t. He won’t.

A veil of eerie calm passes over him. He nods, and the guards relax. Ellie is shouting, swearing, thumping him on the chest as he’s escorted out with her in tow. He leaves Marlene behind. Lets her think he's leaving quietly.

And then knocks out the guards and steals their rifles, forced to be part of the world that doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Because there is one thing that does deserve it, still, and he’ll fight like hell to keep it.

***

He moves through the hospital like ripples through a lake, fracturing everything in his wake. He shoots without hearing the gunfire, without feeling his finger on the trigger. He told Ellie to run and hide, but she was too stubborn and too worried about you to agree, so now she follows behind him, squeezing her eyes shut each time a Firefly falls. He doesn’t want her to see this, but there isn’t time to stop it now. He knows she wants you safe as much as he does, and that has to be enough.

It feels like hours before he finds you in the operating room, surrounded by nurses and doctors in blue scrubs. Your eyes are closed, your body still, and for a moment he thinks he’s too late. His knees threaten to give out as he barges in, weapon poised, Ellie close behind. You’re tethered to wires and IVs, but he sees no blood, no evidence that they’d already begun.

“I won’t let you take her!” the doctor says, wielding his scalpel. Joel shoots him, and he crumples to the floor without a whimper, without anything.

The nurses cower. Joel can taste their fear like metal, but he can’t feel it. It seeps into him like a ghost’s touch; unable to scratch his surface, but still able to penetrate. He can’t focus on it. Not when you’re still lying there, looking so small, so unlike you, in a hospital gown.

“Take out the IVs,” he instructs, his voice unwavering as he motions to you.

The nurse shakes her head.

“Now!” he bellows, and she’s smart enough to listen. She pulls the wires from your hand before stumbling back again.

Joel pays them no more heed as he steps towards you, his breath ragged as he smooths the hair from your face. You don’t react, don’t move, but you’re unharmed. Thank god, you’re unharmed.

“I got you, baby,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he slips one beneath your legs and the other around your back, scooping you up. “I’m here. I’m here now.”

You sink into his chest, and he knows that no matter what he’s done, no matter the horrors he’s committed, he made the right choice. Perhaps not for the world, or for the families of the people he’s murdered, but for you, and for Ellie, and for him. For his own little universe, where love has finally blossomed after a twenty-year drought.

That’s enough for him.

***

You wake feeling groggy, the sun dappling your face and a strange hum beneath you. It takes you a moment to realise it’s a car engine, and you frown, sitting up with a start. The back of Joel’s salt-and-pepper head is the first thing you notice, and relief floods you — intensified when you find Ellie in the passenger seat.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” Joel glances at you through the rearview, his cheek pinching with a concerned smile. “How you feeling?”

A million memories try to soak into your mind at once. You remember almost nothing since approaching the hospital with Joel, and your body feels heavy. You look down to find you’re not in your own clothes, but someone else’s.

“What happened?”

Joel’s jaw sets, and a shiver rises inside you, because you know him, and you know that something has gone horribly wrong. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel, and neither he nor Ellie will meet your gaze as he speaks. “We’ll talk about it when we’re off the road.”

“No. Talk about it now,” you demand. More images flood back. You were in a hospital gown, being prepped for surgery. Marlene… Doctors and nurses…

The cure. They decided to use you, not Ellie.

“Did they… did they do it?”

With a sigh, Joel veers off the road, parking up beside a thick, shadowy treeline. The sun is amber in the sky, setting or rising, you don’t know.

The silence blankets you when the engine dulls, and your heart thuds as you try desperately to meet his eye. He keeps looking down and around, anywhere but at you. You try to get Ellie instead, fingers curling into the spongy seats as you lean forward. She only fidgets with her backpack. Her hands tremble.

“Somebody needs to tell me what the fuck is happening!” you snap, because it’s your body, your duty now, and why won’t they look at you? Why won’t they say a word? You went through hell to get to Utah, for Christ’s sake. What was it for if all you get is this confusing, awful silence?

Without a word, Joel opens the car door, instructing Ellie to give you a minute. You follow, your legs no longer feeling like legs and your mind clouded by fog. Both your doors slam shut, and you lean against the car for support as he finally turns to look at you. His expression is unreadable, and that makes you afraid. It reminds you of the day you met him, when he held a gun to you before you could reach for your own. When he was just a stranger who Marlene had sworn could get you to the Fireflies' base.

When he speaks, though, he’s anything but cold. “I couldn’t let them do it,” he whispers, pain straining his voice.

Your face creases in confusion. “What? After everything we risked, everything we went through—”

“It would kill you!” he shouts. And then, lower: “They were going to kill you. Take the cordyceps out of your fucking brain and leave you… gone. Did you know that? Did they tell you?”

You’re speechless, your throat thick with fear, shock, and your stomach churning with nausea. “That’s why they didn’t want Ellie.”

“They figured murdering a fourteen-year-old was a step too far.” Bitterness soaks his words.

You massage your temples as you try to process it, but at the forefront of everything is guilt. You feel sick, shivery, wrong. You’re the world’s only hope… and you haven’t given them what they needed.

And then you think of Marlene, who promised you so much. You were her friend for years. She looked you in the eyes before surgery and told you you were doing the right thing. She sent you to your execution.

The worst part is that if you’d known it would kill you, you probably still would have agreed if it meant fixing what the infection has broken.

You glance at Joel as you understand all the things he’s not saying. “What the fuck did you do, Joel?” you breathe shakily.

His mouth stretches into a thin line of devastation, and he doesn’t have to say it. “I couldn’t let them… I couldn’t. It wasn’t right.”

You doubt whatever went down on Joel’s end was right, either. There’s no way the Fireflies would have let you go without a fight.

Oh, god.

You sink against the car, panic rising in you. When Joel tries to grab your hand, you tear it away, surprising even yourself.

“Hey,” he says, pleading. “Don’t do this. I had to keep you safe. I had to…”

“It wasn’t your choice!”

“It sure as hell wasn’t yours either!” Joel blurted, anger roughening the edges. “They were just gonna take you away, no fuckin’ warning, no askin’, no nothin’! It’s sick!”

“I’m just one person, Joel. They were trying to save the world!”

“You’re the only fuckin’ person who matters! You, and her!” He jabs a finger in Ellie’s direction, mouth curling with something foul. “It ain’t your responsibility to die for this world. They said it might not even work, made it sound like they were just using you as a lab rat. And what would you be saving anyway? You wanna sacrifice yourself for a world where the government scares everybody into submission and rapists and murderers and fuckin’ cannibals run the place? Huh?”

You flinch at the memory of Silver Lake and David, and how it had felt to lose Sam and Henry months before. Joel’s right; it’s hard to want to save the world when the world has done nothing but kick you down, again and again.

But whatever Joel did, whatever pain he’s left with… you don’t want the stains on his soul to be in your name. He deserves better than that.

When you say nothing, Joel softens, running a hand through his bristly beard as his eyes begin to glisten. “When are you going to understand, darlin’...? I’d never let anyone hurt you. Not if I could help it.”

Your chin wobbles with the promise of tears as you look at him properly for the first time. He looks tired, drawn, haunted.

You did that. Or, rather, he did that for you.

“Marlene… where is she?” You’re afraid to ask, but you have to know.

He gulps, bowing his head. “Gone. They’re all gone.”

“Shit.” You hiss the curse as the tears finally fall, rocking against the weight of what you now know to be true.

“She was never going to stop,” he says.

“I was… I was supposed to be the cure, Joel.” The words rattle in your broken chest like a song scratched out on old vinyl.

He shakes his head. “Not like this. Not if it kills you.”

“I can’t…” You want to break, and you look at him and wonder how he’s still standing. What the hell did he do to get you here, get you safe? Slowly, you put your hand on his chest. “God, Joel. What… I can’t be worth all this. I can’t be responsible for all this.”

“You ain’t responsible for anything. I made this decision.” He covers your hand with his own, and you feel his chest thumping. “I did this.”

“That’s what I mean. I don’t want this for you. I don’t…” You stifle a sob. “I was just your fucking cargo. Why would you do all of this? Why would you stop them from finding a cure, stop them from changing the world, for me? You have to live with that. Not me. I know you, Joel, and I know you don’t need another thing weighing on your soul like this. I can’t be the reason you do. I can’t…”

Surprise flickers across his features. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t get it, do you?”

You blink, lost, and he squeezes your hand tighter, his forehead close enough to brush yours.

“You still don’t know that I love you.”

Your world stutters to a stop with those words. Of course you’d known there was chemistry burning between you, palpable enough that sometimes you can barely breathe. But you never thought Joel would let himself love.

And yet here he is. Destroying the world to save you and his girl. You’ve seen the way he’s warmed to Ellie. It shouldn’t surprise you that you matter too. But you’d never believe a man like him, a man who breathes grief and hostility and strength, could soften for you.

“I’m not… I’m not proud,” he says. “I know the mark this’ll leave on my soul. But Jesus, darlin’, my soul was already black and damned before you met me. I’m willing to carry it. I’m willing to do whatever it takes if it means you’re still here with me. I don’t know what sort of man that makes me. Not a good one, that’s for sure. But I couldn’t just let them kill you. I couldn’t do that. Not for anything. The cure might save the world, or it might not. But I saved my world in that hospital. I had to. Please understand, baby… I had to.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. You catch it with the pad of your thumb even as your own face remains damp and awestricken. You don’t understand. You’re not sure you ever will. But you love him anyway, because you’ve never known somebody to fight for people the way he does, and he’s a good father, a good brother, even when he isn’t. Even when he’s forced to make bad choices, do bad things. He never pretends to be a hero, never asks for redemption.

But he’s asking you now — begging, even — to understand, because he loves you and because he couldn’t give up on you, and that means something. That means everything.

You press your lips to his, and they’re rough and shaky and new. He pulls you closer, clutching onto your shirt like it’s all he has to hold onto.

You don’t know what it means. You don’t know what happens next, or whether it’s right to go on living when you could be saving the world.

You only know that you’re not ready to die yet, not when there is so much of him left to love, and so much to experience with Ellie. God, you dread to think what she saw in that hospital.

“Is Ellie okay?” you ask tentatively as you pull away.

Joel glances into the car. “She needs you as much as I do.”

And you need them, more than you ever planned for. You lean into Joel’s chest and close your eyes, exhaustion weighing on your bones but fire kindled in your heart.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s go home,” he says into your hair.

The world is still broken, but you get to go home.

That has to be worth something.

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 4 months

Note

Hi hi! Fic prompt if you fancy it;

"I know you're used to doing this stuff alone but would it kill you to let someone actually help for once?"

With a bit of whump on the side?

Have a great day :)

Nonny, you definitely fueled my creativity with this, and I'm very grateful, thank you! So, it's not much, but as this was unexpectedly not the only prompt I received today, I thought I'm gonna make a short collection of all prompts resp. fics I'm doing for those prompts. That being said, I will probably use every prompt I've been gifted today, just not very quickly, and I appreciate your patience. So, for the first prompt, have this:

Love Can Only Heal

— Don't be afraid to feel Cause love can only heal —

"You know, I'm disappointed, Evan."

Buck doesn't fancy being a disappointment – yes, he's used to it, just not to hearing it from Tommy. Tommy, standing at the threshold to Buck’s loft, this look in his beautiful eyes. However, it looks more like concern; like honest, downright intimate care.

"D… disappointed?"

Buck is genuinely confused, but he’s also quite distracted. Tommy leans in the doorframe like a high school bully, he undoubtedly has the physical qualities of someone who won’t stop at hurting you with words. Then again, this is Tommy, and besides the somewhat worried gaze, his eyes are nothing but soft. That’s an extremely confusing charisma.

"Are you going to let me in or…?"

Tommy's fleeting gesture includes the hallway and the doors of Buck's neighbors, and for a second, another very contradictory feeling arouses. Buck doesn't want to disturb his neighbors, but he also wants the whole world to see Tommy. Tommy, who has kissed him and whom he has kissed (oh, and way more than that) and with whom he can imagine a host of new things, the most innocuous of which is to make up for the canceled dance at Maddie's crashed wedding reception.

Buck limps to the side and Tommy enters, and as always, his sheer presence seems to fill the loft. It's as if that wide open space shrinks to a minimum until there are only Tommy's eyes, still resting on Buck, but – thank goodness – anything but disapproving.

"If I had a penny for every time you broke your foot, Evan…"

"... you'd have two, which isn't much, but funny that it happened twice," Buck replies automatically, and now they're both grinning, and that's when he knows everything’s going to be okay. He just knows.

"It's not my fault, by the way," Buck adds, limping over to the couch and patting it cheekily for Tommy to sit down, "no one could have guessed that just as I was digging that puppy out of the rubble, there'd be a piece of ceiling coming down."

"Of course you'd rescue a puppy in a burning house that's almost collapsing," Tommy replies softly, and then he does that thing again.

He puts two fingers under Buck's chin, lifts it; Buck's heart beats hard in anticipation of a kiss, but no. Tommy's eyes strangely resemble Buck of the puppy he pulled out of a pile of debris, but there’s also something else in them... it's not really disappointment, it's more like... hurt.

"But I don't quite understand why I have to hear this from Maddie, Evan."

The way Tommy says Evan... if Buck didn't actually feel a little guilty – because now he knows what's going on, now he realizes – he'd probably pounce on the pilot for good. They’d make out on the couch, because that’s basically where Evan sleeps since the accident, and then… Tommy wait’s for an answer, that’s clear. If only Buck’s mind wasn’t so empty.

"I... uh…" Buck isn't particularly good at apologizing. He spent his whole life apologizing for existing, and it never helped.

"From Maddie," Tommy continues, "and not from my boyfriend."

Buck's face becomes as hot as that of a kid caught in the act.

"I just didn't want to..."

Everything Buck might say collapses in his mind like a ridiculous house of cards; the thoughts seem stupid to him. Perhaps that is simply his fate. Maybe he will never get away from being an eternal disappointment to everyone in his life.

"Evan," Tommy says, and there's something in his voice that makes Buck look up, "do you trust me?"

Buck's heart skips an extra beat. Does Tommy know he's repeating the exact words he said to Buck on their first night together? It opened up a whole new world for him. And only now does he really understand how far this goes. Being genuinely wanted. Loved, even, in a completely different way than he is used to.

"Yes," he simply replies, grasping Tommy's hands and holding them tightly, because this is something to hold on to.

"I know you're used to doing this stuff alone but would it kill you to let someone actually help for once?" asks Tommy, and it's still unbelievable that Tommywants to be that someone.

There’s an answer on the tip of Buck’s tongue, and he quickly swallows it. Because yes, sometimes even Evan Buckley can control himself. He could have said that he only broke his foot, that he can still walk (well, limp), that he doesn't need any help. He could refer to their often so different shifts making it hard to see each other more often, and there's Maddie and the rest of the crew to help out, but… That’s not what Tommy meant, and he knows it.

"I'm a lousy boyfriend, huh," Buck says with his crooked grin that defuses many situations, but Tommy immediately shakes his head.

"Evan Buckley, you're everything I want, get that in your thick skull," he says sternly, yet there's that glint in his eye, "and I don't want you to change, all right? I just want to, ugh..."

Tommy is adorable in his embarrassment, gesturing broadly, searching for words.

"I know," Buck says, and now there's probably something in his tone that makes Tommy sit up and take notice. Because he really knows what Tommy wants, and that's something that none of his previous partners ever actually wanted, not even Abby, at least not like this.

He wants to be a part of Buck's life, a real part, not a decoration, not a fleeting affair. Not an exciting party topic, or just the guy you call when you need a place to sleep. Tommy gives his all, he puts all his heart into this. So far, Buck had the most profound conversations with Tommy and, as strange as it sounds, the most profound sex. Above all, though, emotions deeper than anything he’s felt before. Truer than everything he’s felt before. Yes, Tommy gives his all, and that’s why Buck has to do the same.

His phone is lying on the floor in front of the sofa; in this life, Buck will never be tidy, but right now it is lying there very suitably. He takes it, and as he taps on it, he almost hears Tommy's frown.

"What are you doing, Evan?"

"Here," he replies and holds the mobile in Tommy's face. "From now on, you're the first, all right?"

Tommy once told him that he was a pretender for so many years. He’s had years of practice in turning his face into a mask, showing whatever those around him expected him to be, to feel. He doesn't do that anymore, and he knows that he doesn't need it with Buck, something that delights him greatly. And so it is not surprising that Tommy's facial expression quickly changes from irritation to something very, very soft. Well, a bit like a puppy after all.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his eyes seeking the same confirmation as his words.

His name is at the top of Buck's contact list, under emergency contact. Maybe that's only flattering for someone like Buck and Tommy, only understandable for people like them who risk their lives for others and so often fall by the wayside themselves. Tommy understands. He exhales a bated breath, and it sounds like a sweet sigh of relief.

"Very, very sure," Buck replies, and he doesn’t mean just this silly gesture, of course.

He means it all. He’s in it, he’ll give his all. And Tommy?

Tommy knows, and he smiles.

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #Buck/Tommy #Bucktommy #Buck x Tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #firepilot #tommy/buck #dailykinley

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slafkovskys · 4 months

Note

Adam dating an older girl and comforting her after someone rudely mentions their age gap and it makes her upset

you know that gavin likely hadn’t meant it in a rude manner when he let the words fall from his lips. his second beer sloshed in his hand as he leaned against the tall bar table and squinted his eyes at you, “what do you and fants even talk about? you’re so much older than him-”

and you don’t even hear the rest of his words from the sound of your heart thumping against your ribs. your ears start to ring at his observation, so much older than him.

truly, you weren’t. you were only twenty five compared to his twenty and while he was fresh off of his first year in the league, you were three years out of college with your own career and considering a masters in your field. now you knew that there were differences and you weren’t immune to the comments that had been made about your age difference ever since you were seen hanging off of his arm at the most recent cannon ball (comments that forced you to privatize all of your social media) but to hear the words coming straight from the lips of his friend, his former teammate?

you wish that adam wasn’t able to read you so well because mere moments after gavin is pulled away and shrink back into the wall, adam is striding over with a big grin on his face. he sets his drink down beside your own and gently throws his arms over your shoulder and it’s basically automatic for you to wrap yours around his waist, “well, y/n, does it live up to the hype?”

you hum quietly, not meeting his eyes. because you had focused your gaze on his chin, you witness in real time as his smile falls and you’re quick to straighten up, letting your eyes meet his confused gaze, “yeah, it’s great! i can see why you talk about it so much, mo.”

not even the use of his nickname causes his features to soften. he takes a step closer, gently bullying himself between your legs and swoops down so you can hear him over the music, “something’s wrong and you’re not telling me.”

“everything’s fine.”

“you were fine at the game. this is not you being fine,” his hands move up to rest on your cheeks, making sure that you’re meeting his gaze when he asks, “what did gavin say to you?”

you don’t have to question how he knows because somehow he always did. in the seven months you had been together, he was quick to figure out almost everything from what made you laugh, to what made you cry, to what caused you to completely shut down. you look up at the ceiling and tug at his flannel, trying to find the words to soften the blow that his friend was the one who had upset you, “he- he just asked what we talk about considering i’m so much older than you, but it’s fine-”

“i’ll kill him,” his gaze goes cold and his tone serious. when he goes to pull away, you’re quick to tug him back, “i don’t give a fuck who he is to me, he’s not allowed to say shit about us like that. especially after knowing you for, what? an hour?”

“you can’t hurt him, adam,” it’s your turn to raise your hand and thumb at his cheek, letting your finger run against the roughness of his beard, “he’s had a couple of drinks just let it go. besides, he’s not the only one that thinks it.”

“he can have ten beers and that still doesn’t give him the right. no one has the right to comment on us or our relationship,” he grumbles, “you know that i don’t care that you’re older than me, right?”

“but you could be with someone who still likes all of this,” you wave your hand around skeeps and his narrow once again, “not a girl who’s over the college bar phase of her life or staying out late or whatever. you could be with a twenty year old that’s more your speed.”

“i could be, but i’m not,” he insists, “i thought that we conquered this hill when we got together, baby.”

“it’s kind of hard to conquer it when you have to read about it at least once a day,” you frown.

“i don’t care what people say about you or me or us. our relationship is ours, they don’t get to put their two cents in just because it’s not logical to them, okay?” he looks at you for assurance that you were understanding his words and you provide him with a hesitant nod. he grins and leans forward to press his lips to yours, “besides, if they’re this upset when we’re dating, i can’t wait to see how mad they get when i marry you.”

you shove at his arm, “let’s get you out of a boot and off of an elc first, pretty boy.”

send in your requests for sts!

#adam fantilli #soft thoughts sunday

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perpetualexistence · 4 months

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Sea Monster AU: Agony of a Sea Witch

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It sure has been a while since I've made a post for this AU, hasn't it? I know I said I would get this done in time for Mermay. But it's only technically two days away, so I consider this to be Mermay in my heart. That and it's Pride month so now this is just my contribution of incredibly toxic yaoi to Pride month!

What's with the song choice you might ask? And the title? Don't worry about it. Noah'll be fine. Probably.

But yeah this is like 3.5K words so I hope you guys enjoy my blood sacrifice Sea Monster AU update!

Content warnings: Murder mentions, toxic relationship, Alejandro being manipulative as per usual

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With his new body comes new risks. He can't afford to have his legs suddenly turn into tentacles on land. It'd be even worse if they transformed in front of Alejandro. So he's not leaving this cove until he's convinced he can leave it without instantly outing himself.

He starts with turning his legs to tentacles and back. A lot of it has to do with wanting them to transform. Which is good because otherwise this would be a pain.

As the adrenaline fades away, he's more cognizant of how weird it is to feel each leg split into four separate limbs, and then come together again. He shudders at the sensation, but over time he gets used to it.

It takes him all night until he's finally comfortable enough to make his way back home. He sneaks back in at one point only to be caught by an older sibling. They express their concerns about his recent behavior. He manages to get them off his back for now, but they're clearly still worried.

It's summer break at this point, so Noah has plenty of time to learn more magic. He lies to his family about taking summer classes so they don't question his time away. He tells the same lie to Alejandro so that Alejandro doesn't insist the two spend more time together.

That lie he's much more worried about. Not only because Alejandro is more volatile, but also because he knows that Alejandro is going to ask him about how his revenge went.

The intent lie Alejandro believes, so he won't have to explain why he did it. But he'll have to lie about how much he enjoyed it to cater to Alejandro.

Except it doesn't really feel like a lie. Because there's a part of Noah that knows he did rather enjoy it. When his mother asked him whether he was getting a job over the summer or staying at school, he almost admitted right there that he wouldn't need to get a job. Their biggest money problem is gone.

Noah has been considering a lot of people 'problems' now. It's easier to feed a problem to a ravenous sea creature than a person. He knows, on a logical level, that this is wrong and is a very concerning line of thought. But he's been through so much that he feels like he's done more than enough to earn it.

When he goes to talk with Alejandro, the large eel does pick up on his hesitation in taking pride in his kill. He's...surprisingly sympathetic towards Noah's reluctance. He admits that doing it in cold blood for the first time hits a lot harder than simply watching it. It's not something for the faint of heart.

It's why Alejandro was so happy that Noah was willing to try it out. Once you get over the morality of it, it's such a delightful, vindicating experience. Alejandro would love to be there one day to witness Noah finally let loose. Noah deserves it, truly. However, Alejandro won't force it. He's not that crude. If Noah does want to go further down the path of might then Alejandro will be happy to guide him along. Until then, Noah can take his time with it.

Noah leaves that conversation with zero suspicions from Alejandro, but so many questions. The way Alejandro phrased it was oddly sweet and felt like an earnest attempt to comfort him. But it was still encouraging murder. Even if it was arguably justified. And satisfying.

At least it made it clear that shrinking Alejandro was the only way to go. Once he was less dangerous, Noah could figure out what to do with him after.

But first of all he's got to figure out this new body of his. Knowing how to switch between human to cecaelia won't mean anything if his new tentacles keep slapping him in the face every time he tries to use them. Or using suckers to attach onto rocks when he did not mean for them to get adhesive. The retractable fangs are rather annoying since he keeps cutting his tongue with them. Not to mention the excessive amount of saliva that seems to come with it.

The most difficult part is learning how to operate eight lower limbs instead of two. It's also the most exhausting. Chef's training had done little to improve his endurance. Even worse since he's underwater where his whole body feels sluggish.

Slowly but surely, he starts getting better at swimming with his tentacles. He doesn't have the finest control over them, but he can swim with them and go in the direction he actually wants to go in. He isn't sticking to everything he touches with his tentacles, either. He considers that progress.

He'd still like to know how being an octopus was supposed to protect him from a giant electric eel. Sure, he can swim better now. That doesn't do much against someone who can easily outpace him. Or just zap him.

He knows the basics about octopi. He knows they can make ink clouds to confuse their enemies. Which might work for about five seconds until Alejandro goes around the small cloud. The more useful thing is the ability to camouflage. It'd only work when standing still. But if the ritual to shrink Alejandro means he has to go out to open waters, he NEEDS a way to hide himself. He wouldn't be able to afford Alejandro catching him collecting something, or worse, with tentacles.

Through trial and error, Noah finds out that his whole body can go invisible, not just his tentacles. All the better for him. He anchors his ability to camouflage with his desire to disappear. It's an easy feeling to pull up. He usually wants to stay out of most interactions, and his desire to get away from all of this is enough to get him invisible. The harder part is stopping it. Because it means letting go of the feeling. Noah can't really calm down to let go of it because Alejandro has him on high alert at all times. He just forces himself to think of something else, and it works.

All of this is just taking more time away from preparing the ritual. He hasn't even had the chance to read over it properly. He very badly wants to jump the gun, but that'll risk getting caught in a body he can barely control. But being unprepared for the ritual, and the lives it'll probably require given this book's track record so far, is also a huge risk. And during all of this, he's still going on hunts with Alejandro. Risks all around, and Noah feels like he's this close to snapping completely when he's pulled in different directions.

So when Owen sends him a text asking if he wants to hang out over the summer? You know what? Sure. Why not?

Noah deserves a distraction from all the things he's putting himself through. Is this distraction also risky? Yes. But it's not as if he's going to go out in the water with Owen. There's plenty to do in this incredibly isolated town that only advertises its incredibly visible beaches with the extrovert who has constantly been inviting him to going to another yacht party in Alejandro's hunting grounds.

God Owen would be so screwed if Noah wasn't setting up Alejandro's menu.

At least Owen doesn't push so much into what's going on in Noah's life once Noah makes it clear that's not happening. It's nice to actually have the ability to say no. Not the illusion of choice Alejandro brings. It's easier to forget all the things he's done when the most he has to worry with Owen is avoiding a nose milkshake.

Well, there is the fact that Owen is also still insisting on Noah coming along to group hangouts. More people means more lies and more suspicion. But it also means more chance to be in the background conversation. Not do anything.

Noah misses not having to do anything. So against his better judgement, he says yes.

He lets himself get swept into the hurricane that is Owen, Eva, and Izzy. He appreciates Eva not asking any questions from him and just letting him exist. Plus watching her go off on people is fun. Izzy, for all the rabid energy she brings, is more than happy to make all the choices for what they're going to do. He's more than happy to just let her. Owen's both enabling all the chaos and making sure everyone's doing great. He doesn't question Noah wearing a scarf during the humid, sweltering summer. He just scoops Noah up when the heat exhaustion starts getting to him.

And Noah? He's just there. There's no expectations that he does anything. He snarks and they don't complain about his personality.

It's such a nice break from all the murder and deceit. It takes away from the time he could be spending to solve this problem. But if he doesn't give himself this he's pretty sure something's going to snap inside of him. So he fits it in between the magic and the hunting and the hanging out with Alejandro that the eel still insists on.

Hanging out with Alejandro does make hunting more bearable. And Alejandro more bearable. Alejandro still enjoys reading with Noah and bringing him smaller treasures.

Still, now that Noah's started to hang out with other people, he can how conditional spending time with Alejandro is. There's a stark contrast between being with people who could kill you on accident with their shenanigans, and being with someone who would kill you on purpose for trying to pull shenanigans.

It nags at him. Constantly. He doesn't want it to. He wants to relax for once in his life. He can't have that with Alejandro like this. He needs to stop distracting himself. No matter the cost, he has to go through with this. He's done too much now. He just has to keep playing this game a little longer.

He doesn't realize Alejandro's picked up on anything until they're on their way back from a hunt.

The conversation started off simple enough. Noah was making snarks about the people Alejandro had thrown into his gullet. They were long past having any sanctity for the dead.

Alejandro was pushing the boat that was carrying Noah along...and then he began to slow to a stop. They were nowhere near the shoreline. It was just open waters.

Noah asks what's going on. He's trying to sound as casual as possible. Maybe if he keeps faking it, he'll actually begin to calm down.

Alejandro promises it's nothing major, really. It's about a few things that have been bothering him, that's all. He's noticed some new things about Noah.

At first Alejandro thought they were great changes. He does find Noah's scarf cute, and he's very fond of Noah's new interest in Alejandro's passions.

But he's also noticed that their conversations have started to become more awkward. Like Noah isn't completely there for the conversation. He's just curious about what could be on Noah's mind.

Noah's immediately concerned as he now has to come up for an answer for this. It's just him thinking about school, that's all! And the whole murder thing! Giving that serious thought. That's the only thing on his mind.

Alejandro smiles at Noah. He wants to believe Noah. He does. But there's one other thing that's bothering him.

Noah's scent.

The day after Noah came back from his first kill, there was something new to it. Something charged. And salty?

It's very strange. Alejandro was willing to be patient for an answer from Noah. To an extent. The real problem, though, are the newest scents on Noah. They're all human scents. From different people.

Noah would have to be especially close with these humans for an especially long time for their scents to intermingle. Yet Noah hasn't mentioned anything about other humans. Given what happened the last time Noah was getting close with other humans, Alejandro is very interested in knowing what explanation Noah has for this.

Noah knew he shouldn't have let Owen bear hug him so much. Or let Eva carry him around no matter how convenient it was. Or let Izzy constantly invade his personal space. Even though the only way that he could have stopped any of them would have been not to be near them at all.

This was on him, really. For letting himself get distracted. Now he has to figure out what to tell Alejandro. If he tells the truth, he'll be dooming his friends. Alejandro will force him to make an impossible choice. It's what he always does.

He's racking his brain for something, anything to get him out of this mess. Alejandro is waiting for an answer. He does not want to be in this situation. He would give anything to get out of this situation. To just disappear.

"Que es esto?"

Noah looks up to see Alejandro looking down at him. There's some mix of confusion, horror, and anger in his eyes. It's worrying since Noah hasn't given a response yet. His eyes are also darting around Noah. Around?

Noah brings his gaze back down to the boat to figure out what Alejandro is looking at.

Then he looks down to realize that on instinct, he's camouflaged with the ship.

Oh.

No.

Noah's body acts before he can think twice about it. He jumps into the water. Staying on that boat would be a death sentence. At least this way he has a chance at getting away and figuring out SOMETHING.

He knows Alejandro is calling for him and he doesn't care. He's never transformed while invisible and he doesn't want to take any chances now. He's barely gotten any distance until he feels the hairs on his arms raise.

Invisibility means nothing to electrolocation.

Noah is grabbed and is pushed away from the surface. Noah lets out a shout as air bubbles escape him. He switches to using his gills since Alejandro wouldn't notice those anyways. He has a clear view of the fury on Alejandro's face as they swim deeper.

Alejandro demands an answer NOW. He won't return Noah to the surface until Noah shows himself and agrees to explain. Alejandro will keep him here until he drowns if he must. Because he needs to know how Noah knows magic.

Noah thrashes as he tries to get out of Alejandro's vice-like grip. Alejandro doesn't know about the gills, but he'll figure it out eventually. The most he can do is buy himself some time. He's terrible with coming up with plans on the spot but he's got no choice to learn through trial by fire.

He refuses to respond. Speaking would expose his gills. He can hide somewhere and wait Alejandro out if Alejandro thinks he needs to go to the surface for air.

Alejandro is still demanding an answer. How does Noah know magic? That would explain the new scent, but not where Noah got it from. Alejandro has scoured these waters thoroughly. He's the only sea creature here.

So how? And why? They've been having such a good time together. Alejandro didn't even know he could enjoy spending time with a human. Yet he waited with bated breath for Noah's visits. He had been looking for every excuse to keep Noah alive when he fully recovered from his journey here.

Then, when Noah suggested these hunts-

"What?" Noah asked. Holding his cards to his chest be damned. He could NOT let Alejandro try to make Noah out to be the bad guy.

"When you suggested the hunts." Alejandro repeated. He seemed too agitated to even notice that Noah shouldn't be able to speak underwater.

"I didn't suggest them! I never asked for this! You made it clear it was help you or die!"

"I never said you had to help me. I only said you had to give me a reason to let you live."

And no. No, that's not how that worked. That can't have been how that worked. Noah can remember the threat on his life.

"You made the offer to help me hunt all on your own. You could've offered only to spread my legacy and I would've accepted it. You chose to be just as vicious as me. And I was so delighted that you chose me over your own kind."

That's not how that happened. Because if it was, then Noah could have avoided all of this. If it was, then Noah might have been able to reason with Alejandro from the beginning. Noah wouldn't have any blood on his hands. He would still be a good person. Instead of whatever he is now.

It takes more effort than he dares to admit to keep his voice flat. "If it was a choice this whole time, then why didn't you tell me?"

Alejandro paused for a moment. He looked like he wanted to search for Noah's expression. There was none to give with the camouflage. "I thought you'd be happier this way."

How dare Alejandro? How dare Alejandro?

He can't stack the cards against Noah and then blame Noah for not playing the game right. He can't say Noah could have communicated better when he was the one who made Noah feel as if he couldn't say anything at all.

Months of pent up aggravation are bubbling to the surface. He wants Alejandro to hurt. He wants Alejandro to bleed. It's the only way this monster will understand the extent of what he's done to Noah.

Noah feels the transformation happen, and he welcomes it. He's revealed as legs become tentacles. The blue rings on his tentacles glow bright and fierce. He can feel Alejandro struggle to re-adjust his grip. Alejandro is transfixed by the glowing rings. Good.

He uses his tentacles to push at Alejandro's hand to give him room to escape the grip. It's working somewhat. It gives him enough room to sink fangs deep into Alejandro's finger. This was for every time the damnable thing had ruffled his hair. Every time he was given a playful pet or a light jab. Every agonizing moment of patronizing.

He can taste when he pierces through the skin. He keeps going. As hard as he can. Noah's saliva is pouring into the open wound. It's small, but it's something.

Alejandro shouts in pain but doesn't let go. Noah can see the water around Alejandro's tail crackling with frustrated electricity.

Then, Alejandro's grip loosens. Noah bursts out of it. Finally, his sacrifice was good for SOMETHING. He tries to swim away from Alejandro's range.

Alejandro uses the same hand as before to block Noah's escape and bring him back to face the merfolk. Noah is expecting to be squeezed again and tries to get off of Alejandro's palm before it happens.

He does escape. Alejandro's hand closes around where Noah had just been a couple of seconds ago. Alejandro looks...confused. His hand is trembling. He reaches for Noah again, but the hand is slower this time. Much easier to avoid.

"What...what did you do to me?" Alejandro asked.

Noah's rage is marred with confusion. Alejandro's arm slowly falls to the side. Limp.

That's when it clicks for Noah. He'd never looked up the exact species of octopus he was. He'd been far too preoccupied with other matters, and he thought it would never come up. Yet here he was, with glowing blue rings and a bite chockfull of saliva.

Except it was never saliva. It was venom. And now they're both finding out how deadly Noah had made himself.

The fear in Alejandro's eyes is satisfying. Noah's finally managed to turn the tables on him. Even if he never wanted it like this. The plan had never been to kill Alejandro. Just to contain him. Alejandro would have killed him if he thought he had to. So whatever's about to happen is just going to happen.

So long as he keeps telling himself this, he can ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

He can't ignore the gray mass of flesh barreling towards him.

Of course.

Noah should have realized it was always going to end like this. He's not going to be fast enough to outswim that tail. He's been martyring himself this whole time. Might as well go all the way. At least the few people he cares about will be safe from his stupid, horrible mistake.

His last thought is wondering if there ever was a way this could have ended differently.

The tail hits him. Electricity courses through his body.

He screams, and it goes dark.

(For all of you curious, Noah's a blue-ringed octopus! I would have shared a picture earlier, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise in case you knew about it already. Here is a lovely little picture of an incredibly deadly octopus the size of a golfball that can kill a human in minutes!

#sea monster au #total drama au #total drama #total drama noah #td noah #total drama alejandro #td alejandro #td alenoah #total drama alenoah #alenoah #giant/tiny #noah td #alejandro burromuerto #horror au #tw toxic relationship #cw toxic relationship #total drama horror au #td horror au

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